“Good introductions should be considered part of universal design.“
“Employers are often focused on obtaining the ‘best and the brightest’ and have defined that, in part, as having a profile that typically PWD (people with disabilities) do not have because of missed developmental opportunities and/or non-traditional backgrounds for the position.“
Name or Anonymous:
Please share how you prefer to introduce yourself:
Call me Alex.
Here’s a little more about me. Since 1999, I’ve dedicated my life to help break the cycle of poverty for people disabilities and the economically disadvantaged. Employment is the key to a life of independence. I develop and maintain programs that go right to the heart of the issues and produce remarkable successes. My hat is off to those who take the challenge and I am so proud to be part of the process of transforming.
As Computer Technologies Program‘s Executive Director, I’m responsible for overseeing the administration, programs and strategic plan of the organization. Other key duties include fundraising and community outreach.
DiD’s first Storyteller goes live on Monday, 9/2/19 – and all I’m going to say about them is, “They’re AWESOME.”
We’re taking the whole thing easy ’cause it’s Labor Day! Our next Storyteller will follow the next Monday.
The Disabled in Development Project (DiD) is about advancing disability equity in philanthropy and fundraising. Because access to funding is an equity issue.
Our representation matters because access to funding is a critical component in dismantling structural ableism.
Telling our stories matters because we need to make philanthropy more effective and thus more powerful by centering more disabled people from multiply-marginalized communities.
DiD is our storytelling place to both celebrate advances in disability inclusion and to testify to the ableist structural barriers we’ve encountered, and that may have halted our career advancement or forced us out. Tell your truth about our disabled labor to transform philanthropy!
1 in 4 people in the US has a disability. 3% of folks in philanthropy identify as disabled. 3% of funding goes to disability-related work. Which all adds up to the reality that disabled people don’t typically win in the funding arena.
“Stigma-busting tales of bringing our disabilities, chronic illnesses, and aging to our work in philanthropy and fundraising”
FAQs for Field Allies
What’s the purpose of the Disabled in Development Project?
Founded in 2019 by Ingrid Tischer, the purpose of the Disabled in Development (DiD) Project is to make philanthropy more effective and thus more powerful by centering more disabled people from multiply-marginalized communities.
What do you want from Field Allies?
Field allies of the Disabled in Development Project (DiD) are friends and supporters who help share DiD with potential storytellers and other like-minded allies.
In choosing to let me list your name and a blurb about you as a Field Ally, you show solidarity with DiD’s efforts to dismantle structural ableism and advance representational leadership in philanthropy and fundraising.
You might be a connector — someone who isn’t a DiD story-teller yourself – who knows people who might want to be storytellers.
Or you’re with an organization that wants to stand with DiD in saying,
“Disability inclusion, equity, and representation are essential to powerful philanthropy and fundraising, and centering more disabled people from multiply-marginalized communities is the way to go.”
Or you’re both!
You help encourage your community to participate and share their stories. You also publicize this campaign among your professional and informal social networks.
Here are some general guidelines:
Please let me know if you’d like to help get the word out. If you would, please email me and let me know if I can list you or your organization as one of our Field Allies.
Want in on the conversation about ableism? Check out what disabled advocates, civil and human rights activists, and philanthropic leaders had to say at the Twitter chat on 10/12/18 about philanthropy and inclusion. Then make your voice heard at #FundDisAdvocacy.
Foundation funding for disability advocacy dropped 23% between 2011-2015. Disabled people were the only group to see a decrease. Most funders are “aware” of disability but do they see ableism and structural discrimination? How do we make funders see disability civil and human rights as areas of actionable, urgent advocacy? A first step is recognizing disability as a constant but hidden set of variables in nearly all formulas for civil and human rights.
I’m writing to you in my capacity as a community organizer – which is another name for a social justice fundraiser.
I believe you and I share common ground on the importance of advocacy:
We know that the great civil and human rights gains of the last century, envisioned and organized by the grassroots, were built to last through the courts and legislation, and they will continue to be the battlefields for preserving them.
I’m writing because disability civil and human rights advocacy is missing from your funding portfolios.
The first step in changing that is frank communication.
When you do not explicitly say “disability” in funding advocacy, you send a message to us: Deny, disown, and downplay your disability identity. That denies all marginalized communities access to our hard-won legal tools and, worse yet, our expertise in using them.
You may understand this letter, at first, as pertaining to a discrete group: disabled people. But it is a fundamental mistake to think that civil and human rights for any community can be fully achieved if we neglect, forget, or disregard such a basic human condition as disability and allow it to be the “natural” cause of poverty and abuse. If we are not safe or free to be vulnerable, then we cannot call ourselves safe or free. Our society is not safe or free.
The Best of Times, the Worst of Times: This Moment in Disability, Dignity, and Human Rights
An earlier version of these remarks was shared at Congregation Beth Jacob in Redwood City, California on March 3, 2018. I deeply appreciated their welcome when I was invited to address their community by Anne Cohen, an activist, disabled parent, and board member at the organization where I am Director of Development, Disability Rights Education & Defense Fund (DREDF) or, as Anne has dubbed it, “the ACLU of disability rights.” CBJ’s cross-disability access allowed me to take the first step in organizing community support: communicate.
I grew up with a disability, one that is genetic. I have been a plaintiff in an ADA access case here in California. It involved a bathroom. That required a lot of talking publicly about my using the bathroom. For disabled people like me – physically disabled — being disabled means never knowing where your next accessible public bathroom is. Today. Nearly thirty years after the ADA was passed. And keep in mind those 30 years coincide with my fundraising career in social justice non-profits and their philanthropic allies. Those are whole decades of trying my best to use empathy and imagination to shift that stubborn disability narrative that says I receive but can’t give. That disability is a health thing. That I need a cure when a toilet would be preferable. That I am charity, personified, not justice, denied.
If the grand success of the 20th century was the rise of disability as an accepted political identity, we intend for the 21st century to be the time when disability is recognized as the constant but hidden variable in nearly all formulas for global human rights. Including disability as a given factor in most people’s lives is essential to successfully advancing the rights of people who are members of minority communities, survivors of violence and/conflict zones, and veterans; people who live with chronic ailments and have survived catastrophic illness, people who are young and old; male, female, and anywhere on the gender spectrum. While disability has been understood as “different and divided” I believe it can come to be seen as “unique and united.”
As you sit sweating under an increasingly sweltering sun this day, feeling the inevitable effects of a wasteful attitude toward natural resources, you may not be thinking of another type of catastrophic loss caused by another type of massive denial. I speak of almost no one’s favorite topic: Disability. How denying disability’s central role in just about every human life relegates significant chunks of our lives — and worse still, people-sized chunks — to the rubbish heap. It may be that “disabled” doesn’t feel like a word that fits who you are. Fine. Have you ever felt vulnerable? Think of “vulnerable” as a gateway word to a chronic case of disability-speak.