Hadija, do you have a hero that inspires you?
I don’t have a hero in the conventional sense; what I do believe is that anyone can be a hero by simply surpassing themselves. Throughout history, and also today, there are many brave people who speak up, leave their comfort zones and go against the flow of anti-democratic narrative. In the past, those are the people who have sparked off peaceful revolutions. They include those who have followed the African philosophy of Ubuntu, like Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu, as well as writers such as Audre Lorde or bell hooks. Their texts, which I’ve read, are inspiring in their courage and clarity. For me, it means something when people want to create genuine, open communities and forge ahead even when society on the whole is heading in the exact opposite direction.
You write about injustices perpetrated against disabled people. How does this show in our society?
I was 28 years old when I held my first talk in which I criticized ableism. After that, I saw ever more discrimination against people with disabilities wherever I looked. Exclusion is evident in so many places, in language on a daily basis and in laws and power relations on an institutional level; but also in what is considered a good life and in the fact that disabled people are regarded as being somehow deficient. All of this has a long history that goes back well before the Nazis, all the way to eugenics research. Many people know very little about its history. When I drop into a conversation, for example, that I have a disabled child, people often don’t know what to do with that, how to respond. This shows me time and again that we don’t have the awareness, the required language, and that it’s just not being talked about enough.
“Exclusion is evident in so many places, in language on a daily basis and in laws and power relations on an institutional level.“
How much courage did you need to write this book?
My courage has grown. It is, in effect, the sequel to my first book, “Die Schönheit der Differenz” (The beauty of difference), which is about how each of us humans is different and how experiences of being privileged and being disadvantaged can sometimes overlap. It also deals with how social structures and our history of violence give rise to discrimination and marginalisation. We are currently experiencing a political backlash: many people are ignoring the facts or believe that everything will turn out alright. Or they are not so worried because they think they are not affected themselves. But disability is an overarching societal issue. It affects everyone – perhaps even yourself at some point. That’s why I hope that many people will take up my counter-narrative. Perhaps it will give them courage. Writing the book made things clearer for me. In this respect, it didn’t, ultimately, feel so much like an act of courage as one of absolute necessity.
What were the things that became clearer to you through your writing?
Having a Black disabled child was not something that surprised me as such. But I did know that it would be a challenge to be that child’s mother. What does being an ally mean for me, and power-critical parenting? I have had so many realisations over the years, since learning about disabilities and learning about society go hand in hand. It’s about so many aspects that overlap: about bodies, ideas of beauty, the big issue of social Darwinism, which not only affects disabled people, but also poor people and migrants. It’s about the currently topical issue of being useful. We should tackle these big issues so that our society can truly change towards an open society that can tolerate differences, that is not about tolerance, but about acceptance.
“Inclusion is not for disabled people; it is for everyone. We should not be guided by special traits, but by self-evidence. Because, naturally, we are all here.”
Your son is now nine years old. What experiences have you had together?
Our main experience is that having a child with a disability that you want to be able to grow up just like non-disabled children means having to fight battles; that finding a truly inclusive school is nearly, if not entirely, impossible. Ever since my child was born, I have given more thought to what it means to find spaces for our son in which there is awareness. I would say that my husband and I were lucky enough to have found many such spaces, where people with open hearts and a willingness to discuss and recognise diversity enable our child to grow up being different. Essentially, it’s about dealing with it as a matter of course, without judgement. That’s the whole point.
How can we make our society a good, inclusive space for everyone?
For me, it’s about fostering a sense of responsibility. For that to happen, everyone would have to start with themselves. Humanity and humanism are fundamental values of our democracy, as I point out. It is important to think about the kind of society I want to live in. Maybe I have to admit to myself that I don’t want everyone to be part of it and then ask myself why that’s the case. This basic honesty with ourselves and with others is important, because on the other side you have right-wing populist narratives, which are simple and easy to follow. Where it gets complicated is when you have to deal with differences and discrimination, because that reaches all the way to your own body and your innermost self. That takes courage, which brings us back to the heroes. Who is ready to commit to themselves and to others?
Text: Maria Zimmerer
