Facebook Publication Date: 5/21/2021 7:05

Neurodivergence, Disability, and Taking Accountability for Racial Harm

–by Alexia A

There’s this pattern that happens when a white or non-Black person is asked to take responsibility for racist behavior:

“This conversation is triggering. I will no longer engage.”

“I wasn’t trying to be racist. I’m neurodivergent.”

“I’m too sick to deal with this stress.”

At times, mental illness, neurodivergence, and/or disability is used as an excuse for racist behavior. Other times it is used as an excuse for why one can’t take responsibility for their actions. According to the logic of these common refrains, anti-racism is work that is supposedly reserved for abled people who have ample access to time, energy, and social support.

This line of thinking, is first of all, racist. It erases and devalues the ongoing anti-racist work that Black people and other people of color are forced to take on regardless of their ability, time, energy, and social support, which, due to structural racism, tends to be significantly less than that of white people. This line of thinking is also ableist in that it fails to recognize the agency that disabled people have over their actions. Ableism is a system of oppression that imagines neurodivergent and disabled people to be inferior and somehow less than human because their bodyminds do not work the same way as abled peoples’ do. The idea that a neurodivergent and/or disabled person is unable to unlearn internalized racism because of their disability is a denial of neurodivergent and disabled peoples’ humanity and complex personhood.

It is important to recognize that mental illness, neurodivergence, and/or disability can have a significant impact on how people communicate, process information, navigate their interpersonal relationships, and respond to conflict and calls for accountability. Some people may need direct communication and ongoing conversations to understand the feedback they are receiving. Some people may need to take additional time to process and calm their nervous system so that they can take responsibility for harmful actions and work towards repair.

As abolitionist organizer Mariame Kaba writes in her work on community accountability processes, “It is not process time when you’re in crisis intervention mode.” If a person is currently in a medical crisis, dealing with intense psychological distress or physical pain, they may not be able to accept responsibility for harm they caused or are actively causing, in that exact moment. This means that in our work to address racism in our interpersonal relationships, we need to be understanding of creating time, space, and access for mentally ill, neurodivergent, and disabled people to participate in ongoing processes of accountability and repair.

But, being attuned to people’s access needs and exercising flexibility and grace is not the same as absolving mentally ill, neurodivergent, and disabled people from taking responsibility for their role in perpetuating racism.

In my experience, mentally ill, traumatized, neurodivergent, sick, and disabled Black folks and people of color (who are also queer and trans) are some of the most politically active, dedicated, and thoughtful organizers and people that I know. People who are simultaneously struggling against racism, ableism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and classism in their everyday lives are doing the hard work of cultivating care and humility so that we can build strong systems of community accountability and transform our interpersonal relationships.

Disability justice, a movement led by neurodivergent, sick, mad, mentally ill, and disabled Black and Indigenous people and people of color, emphasizes that fighting against systems of oppression requires centering our interdependence and the responsibility that we all hold for one another. In other words, there is no self-care without collective care. There is no disability justice without justice for all people impacted by racism.

You see, for people of color, racism is literally disabling. People of color are disproportionately impacted by structural and interpersonal forms of racism, which medical research recognizes as a social determinant of health. Because many people of color live and work in contaminated and polluted areas, are exposed to greater safety hazards, receive less frequent and lower quality medical care, and live with the ongoing effects of chronic stress and intergenerational trauma, there are higher rates of mental illness, chronic medical conditions, and disabilities in communities of color. And let us not forget that disabled people make up half of the people killed by the police and almost 40% of those who are incarcerated in the U.S.

When people of color, and let’s be real–this impacts Black folks in particular–say “I have a disability,” they are not afforded the same flexibility and grace as white neurodivergent and disabled people. Ableism intersects with white supremacy to regard white neurodivergent and disabled people as innocent and childlike, while Black neurodivergent and disabled people are regarded as criminal and dangerous.

If mentally ill, mad, neurodivergent, and sick and disabled queer and trans people of color who are the most impacted by intersecting forms of oppression can be open to feedback, unlearning oppressive behaviors, figuring out ways to work towards accountability, and leading others in social justice struggles, then white neurodivergent, sick, and disabled people can do this work, too–and they need to do this work, too–if we want to end cycles of organizers of color burning themselves out to the point of disablement and premature death.

Figuring out how to work towards racial justice as a neurodivergent, mentally ill, or disabled person may require some patience and creativity, but luckily, these are skills that many neurodivergent and disabled people have already cultivated in the struggle to simply exist in an ableist and inaccessible society. While some forms of activism–like marches, rallies, and phone banking–may not be widely accessible to disabled and neurodivergent people, taking accountability is something that everyone can practice.

In the Lace on Race community, nobody has to develop these skills on their own. By participating in this space, we are all committing to individually and collectively managing the “slosh bucket”–those accumulated triggers, pain points, and stressors that can splash onto others and dilute our capacity for reflexivity and growth if we’re not careful. We are all committing to “kind candor”–offering direct and nuanced feedback while never mocking, taunting, or punching down. And we are all committing to showing up–”visibly, reliably, and faithfully”–because that is the only way to truly build community and deepen our personal praxis.

While accountability is something we all must choose to take–following transformative justice activist Mia Mingus, I don’t believe in the concept of “holding someone accountable”–it is a responsibility that is both individual and collective. Here at Lace on Race, you can expect to be held, seen in your wholeness, and guided towards growth, so long as you are receptive. What is required is commitment, humility, and a recognition that there is no health and safety so long as racism exists.

Thank you to Steph Rojas for their feedback on this piece, in particular their point that disabled, neurodivergent, and mad people of color rarely get to use “disability” as a shield from accountability.

Return to The Bistro to engage on this post: https://laceonrace.com/groups/the-bistro/forum/discussion/neurodivergence-disability-and-taking-accountability-for-racial-harm/

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