Olmstead Clarification: Segregation

Imagine you're a child: You have loving parents, maybe some siblings, possibly a spotted brown mutt that you chase fireflies with, and definitely some wild dreams of who you will be when you grow up. You struggle in school, all subjects, but your parents reassure you (and themselves) that you'll catch up. But you don't. So, they go to a doctor and are told you will never be "normal" and that an institution is best for "someone like you." It's decades before the Americans with Disabilities Act is signed. You have no access to special education. Community services aren't available. There is no therapy outside of an institution. So, your parents agree. 

You grow up bouncing between facilities. Your parents become elderly. You imagine your old pal (who you missed out on years with and didn't get to say goodbye to) chasing fireflies between heaven's clouds. You don't get to have a romantic partner, learn to drive a car, get a job, or even choose the color of the sheets you sleep on. But, somewhere in the long stretch of gray, the doctors agree you're well enough to live in your community. 

It's years between their decision to release you and your freedom because there is still, after decades, no programs to help you reintegrate. There are no services to have someone come in and assist you with the few things you can't manage alone. Now, your parents aren't even around. 

You have to go to court to be free. In 1999, the Supreme Court sides with you. They rule that "segregation of persons with disabilities constitutes discrimination in violation of title II of the Americans with Disabilities Act." You finally get a chance at a better life. Your court case is known as Olmstead, and it helps a lot of disabled people stay in their homes and communities.

*~*~*

This month, a memo put out by the Justice Department says the integration mandate in Olmstead can't be enforced and that states aren't required to provide services (like in-home healthcare) to ensure disabled people can stay in their communities. In short, if the state a disabled person lives in decides it will no longer provide care, there are few options that will exist outside of an institution.

Some people will say: Chill out, a memo isn't a law. 

It's not, but it is permission. Permission to cut programs to "save money." Permission for a school to gut their special education department (something that might happen anyway now that the Department of Education is being scattered among other departments). Permission to allow private investors to build more institutions. It's permission for businesses to not make their buildings ADA-compliant because more disabled people will be afraid to "make waves" now that their place in their community is exceedingly tenuous. 

The memo combined with targeted attacks on the program that pays family members who are caregivers and the expanded work requirements for people getting assistance (even those suffering from cancer) can be seen as nothing but the intentional dismantling of protections and the construction of harmful roadblocks. They want disabled people in for-profit institutions, four of us crammed into a room meant for two, making stockholders sweet dividends. Out of sight like decades ago, sentenced to life for the crime of being a cripple.