PREFACE

A social justice approach to disability in higher education means beginning with the assumption that people's abilities and rights to contribute to and benefit from higher education are not dependent on their bodies or psyches conforming to dominant norms. It means that we believe the barriers to success in higher education lie in the structural, organizational, physical, and attitudinal aspects of our institutions. In this book, we deliberately approach disability from a social justice perspective, recognizing the multifaceted nature of disabled people's lives, while attending to the contributions and potentials of students, staff, and faculty with disabilities. We also pay attention to the attitudinal, organizational, and physical barriers impeding success; to history, law, and policy; to functional limitations and the challenges posed by people's minds and bodies; and to advocacy, struggle, and social change. In particular, we recognize that the experience of disability is mediated by other social identities people hold and the many roles they take on, both within and outside higher education. In addition, in this book we examine the role of people who are not disabled in creating and maintaining social systems, policies, and norms that circumscribe the lives of individuals with disabilities, as well as the ways that those with and without disabilities can reduce or eliminate those barriers.

Our approach differs from most other writing on disability in the context of higher education, in which disability commonly is understood as deficit, limitation, or inability. Even those who work to create an inclusive, socially just society frequently use metaphors that reinforce perceptions of the incapacity of people with disabilities (e.g., using “color‐blind racism” to describe people who say they are unaware of racial differences; Nocella, 2009). As Mingus (2011) noted,

People usually think of disability as an individual flaw or problem, rather than as something partly created by the world we live in. It is rare that people think about disability as a political experience or as encompassing a community full of rich histories, cultures, and legacies (para. 1).

In this book, we strive to do just that. In addition, this book differs from other texts on disability by recognizing and exploring diversity within disabled communities. Moreover, we take an intentionally interdisciplinary approach, drawing on both the research and experiential literature from a variety of disciplines, while noting the paucity and dated nature of disability research that foregrounds the experiences of people with disabilities in higher education (E. V. Peña, 2014). Finally, we approach disability as a campuswide issue rather than the sole province of disability resource providers.

We need a better approach to understanding disability in higher education for multiple reasons. First, the numbers and percentages of people with disabilities entering college are rising, with 2011 data indicating 11.1% of college students having a disability (National Center for Educational Statistics, 2016b), almost double the numbers from the mid‐1990s (although there is considerable variability in disability statistics, as discussed in Chapter 4). Second, despite the increasing enrollment of disabled students into higher education, people with disabilities continue to be underrepresented in the workforce, including at colleges and universities, as we expand on in Chapter 7. These two dynamics are compounded because few staff or faculty members know how to work effectively with people with disabilities as students, colleagues, or supervisees. Finally, few colleges or universities have systematically identified and eliminated institutional and cultural barriers to the success of their constituencies with disabilities. In this book, we provide the information necessary to begin to create campus environments supportive of the success of all their members.

Audience

The primary audiences for this book are disability resource providers and student affairs practitioners who work with students with disabilities (i.e., all student affairs practitioners), faculty and academic affairs administrators, and master's and doctoral students who are studying social justice and disability issues. We believe the book will be particularly useful to scholars and faculty who teach courses on social justice and/or disability, both inside disability studies programs and in education, health and human services, social work, and human development programs. Scholars studying disability also will find this book to be an important resource because we bring together material from multiple disciplinary perspectives; present new data and interpretations; and integrate history, theory, and practice from a social justice perspective. This book will be of help as well to scholars who are pursuing new and important areas for future disability research, practitioners seeking a reference manual written from an intersectional perspective, faculty interested in course textbooks and supplementary material, students who are entering the field wanting disability‐specific knowledge, and individuals without disabilities looking to deconstruct ableism on their campuses. Finally, we believe this book will be useful to those working to help students with disabilities make the transition from high school to higher education.

Positionality

As we begin a book that takes a social justice approach to understanding disability in higher education, we recognize the importance of locating ourselves as authors. We believe that readers need some understanding of the experiences, influences, and values we bring to our own approaches to disability and the ways those approaches shaped the content of this book.

We hold several social locations in common. Each of us is a White, cisgender woman with a great deal of education. All of us were raised and have lived most of our lives in the United States. We each identify as having one or more disabilities. We all have cats. We each have worked in student affairs (although in different functional areas). We all have extensive histories in social justice work, view ourselves as advocates, and view student affairs work in general and disability work specifically from that perspective. While we all have served as college instructors, for two of the four of us (Nancy and Ellen), this was or is our primary professional role. Autumn and Kirsten have taught in addition to their main employment. In addition, we have unique histories that have shaped how we came to write this book and how we conceptualize disability, both personally and as a theoretical construct. Below, each of us explains her history.

Nancy J. Evans

I had polio as a four‐year‐old during the last big polio epidemic before development of the polio vaccine. I grew up in a poor family: my father was a tenant farmer who left school after the sixth grade, and my mother was the daughter of Norwegian immigrant farmers. My first memories are of my parents leaning over my bed at the medical center an hour from my home, where I was treated by a prominent orthopedist, nationally known for his work with polio patients. Still, my mother experienced lifelong guilt feelings because (a) she was sure I had caught the polio virus on a trip to her family home in Minnesota just before I became sick, and (b) our family's financial status made it impossible for her to take me to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota for treatment. My back and legs were paralyzed, and I spent nine months in a rehabilitation hospital learning to walk with crutches and the back and leg braces I have worn since I was four years old. I also had many surgeries between the ages of 4 and 13 to straighten my legs and feet, which required hospitalization, rehabilitation, and periodic home schooling.

I had my last major surgery at age 13 and was home‐schooled during my eighth‐grade year by a young teacher who also taught at the local school. She spent a great deal of time with me and was a major influence on my life, encouraging me to excel in my schoolwork and go on to college. My father was killed in an accident when I was just starting ninth grade. My mother, who was not used to making decisions, was overwhelmed and unsure of her role as a single parent with two teenagers. Since she worked first evening and then night hours, we were left on our own a lot. Because of my teacher's influence and my mother's lack of self‐confidence, I became an independent and resilient teenager, making my own decisions, ignoring my impairment for the most part, and focusing on the aspect of my life in which I could excel: academics.

Because of my disability, the New York State Department of Vocational Rehabilitation would pay my college tuition and costs as long as I attended an in‐state college. However, the private college I had my heart set on attending “discouraged” me from enrolling because they did not think I could handle its rather hilly campus. Devastated, I instead attended SUNY‐Potsdam (now Potsdam State University), where I felt welcomed. Potsdam provided an excellent environment in which to expand my horizons, become involved in the civil rights and antiwar protests of the 1960s, and become a student leader, including student government president.

Immersed as I was in student government and protest, I had no clue what I would do with my life after I graduated from college in 1970. Based on the advice of my student government advisor, I finally decided on a career in student affairs, completed a...