On Monday, April 14, Partners in Policymaking class members toured Central State Hospital in Milledgeville as a part of their major project for the year. We spent three hours touring the campus, talking with staff and individuals who live there,and for the first time getting to experience what an institution is like. A reporter and photographer from the Macon Telegraph spent some time interviewing us for a story they will be doing next week.
One of our Partners reminded us on the way home about a question that one of our speakers , Bruce Anderson, posed to us last October. He said our core question needs to always be,"Under what conditions is it okay to segregate?". If you ever have a problem in answering that question, going to Central State would validate the long term effects and dangers of keeping people separate.
Read more in Julie Beem's letter below:
Invisible. That’s the word that struck me as I toured Central State Hospital in Milledgeville earlier this week. The people we were there to see, those with developmental disabilities (DD), are the “invisible” population of Georgia.
I was one of nine moms from Partners in Policymaking, an advocacy training program sponsored by the Atlanta Alliance on Developmental Disabilities and the Governor’s Council on Developmental Disabilities. All of us have children diagnosed with a developmental disability, like autism or Down’s Syndrome, and some, like me, have children who also have psychiatric diagnoses.
I went to Central State not knowing what to expect. I knew the history of the hospital as one of the largest insane asylums in the country, housing over 12,000 people in the 1960s. What I saw in the living quarters and educational facilities for the developmentally delayed residents at Central State was not horrific. It was clean, they were well-fed, and the staff seemed caring and knowledgeable. Yet, I kept thinking how invisible these people are.
It was evident that our visit was a big deal. We were greeted by the supervisors of each unit and accompanied by Joe Coleman, Developmental Disabilities Service Chief, all who seem to be good people trying their best to care for the people of Central State. But you could tell by the look on the children’s faces in the medically fragile ward, and by the enthusiastic greeting we received by the young men enjoying a basketball game outside their residential unit, that they don’t get many visitors. They are tucked away; forgotten.
And, there in, lies the rub. At Central State, people with developmental disabilities have only their basic needs met. They have food, shelter, a place to sleep, clothes to wear, access to medical treatment. But what else do they have? What about meaningful work, enjoyable leisure activities, or more importantly, friends and family?
Society has always wrestled with the challenge of including marginalized populations, like people with disabilities. Here in Georgia, that seems especially true. Nearly a decade has passed since the Olmstead decision in which Georgia was appealing for the right to enforce institutionalization, but the Supreme Court upheld the right of people with disabilities to live within their community. Yet, most Georgians have no idea how many people with DD are still in institutions or what is needed move these people into the communities. For most of us it’s “out of sight, out of mind”. Until a tragedy hits the headlines or we personally know someone, developmental disabilities remain invisible.
While none of us dare admit this aloud, there’s a fear that a life with a disabilities is a little less human than the rest of us. We make the mistake to think that people like my daughter are worth less in some way. This is where we moms of children with disabilities have an advantage over those with no experience.
My daughter has hopes, dreams, desires, dislikes, just like any 11-year-old. Her sense of humor, compassionate heart, deep soul and unquenchable spirit show that she’s fully human. She has taught me more about being human and the value of life than any other person on this planet. And while those at Central State would lead more meaningful lives for themselves in the community, the point we often miss is how much more meaningful our lives are when these people are no longer invisible to us.
