I had never considered myself someone with a disability. Later in life, I realised I was struggling to keep abreast of certain kinds of tasks. I had always blamed myself, called myself lazy, disorganised, without ambition. Deadlines came and went, opportunities passed, and I often wondered why. Why did they pass me by? This toxic inner conversation took its toll. I naturalised it. I knew I was someone who did things late. Not only does this (late) blog post confirm it, but I am constantly, always already, feeling the weight of my own criticism. It wasn’t until starting this job at UAL four years ago that a colleague said: “Have you considered whether you’ve got some attention deficit disorder?”
A younger me would have shaken it off: “Na, I’m just lazy, need to be better.” Ade Adepitan (2020) makes the distinction that reframed this for me: what harms people is not race but racism, and what disables me is not ADHD but ableism. My difficulty is not that I can’t concentrate in a loud cafe, or that I struggle to finish tasks. The difficulty is also the task at hand, the deadline, the lack of space and time to think slowly.
I now have workplace adjustments, and my manager is aware of my difficulties. Does this awareness make it easier to be seen? Does it ensure my condition is upheld? The short answer is: not so much. The challenge shifts to one of taking space, of being heard, and of articulating clearly how my disability affects me. Maybe because the world is still not there yet.
Often, in preparing for a class, I find myself having to remind others, without shame or fear of judgement, that: “Sorry, but I won’t be able to do group tutorials in a room with other tutorials happening simultaneously,” or “Can we book a meeting room instead of meeting in the canteen? I struggle to follow conversation in a noisy environment.”
While reading the resources, a question came up: why is it difficult for me to uphold my adjustments with my team? Why do I sometimes feel unable to? Crenshaw (1990) shed some light. Using intersectionality as a lens: I am the only straight man in the group, which already positions me in relative privilege on a couple of axes. So I end up seeing my adjustments as a potential imposition on people who might have a better claim to be accommodated. Being recognised is only part of the issue; the everyday practice of recognising and accommodating is a longer, more arduous journey.
This in turn made me think of students, who have more information and less time to absorb it (we are restructuring our MA to fit within 12 months instead of 15). I feel the stress of trying, and sometimes outright pretending, to do the work we need to do within these time constraints. Considering their positionality, how are they meant to have their needs heard in relation to what we are teaching them?
What are we as staff doing to accommodate them? Are their needs recognised and actioned on a day-to-day basis? Are we designing with the students, or for the students? How can we as educators on a MA that prized itself on seeking eco social justice enable and make space for the diversity of needs of our students? Can we embody these values as well (as they are formally recognised)
Adepitan, A. (2020) Ade Adepitan gives amazing explanation of systemic racism. YouTube.
Crenshaw, K. (1990) ‘Mapping the margins: intersectionality, identity politics, and violence against women of color’, Stanford Law Review, 43(6), pp. 1241–1299.
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