hopeful outrage

I attended a required initial training for my position that explained the history of developmental disabilities in our country, specifically New York. Fortunately, where we are now has greatly improved over the past few decades. I watched a short film about Willowbrook State School, which was in Staten Island. It made my stomach turn. To call it a ‘school’ is repulsive. It was not a place for learning, and was certainly not safe. Willowbrook was an institution for children with mental retardation from 1930-1987. I was born in 1988. There were over 5,000 people crammed into the facility, which Senator Robert Kennedy called “a snake pit” after visiting. There would often be one staff person on for 16-hour shifts, responsible for the direct care of 40 disabled children.

According to the materials I received in my training - between 1963 and 1966 healthy children were intentionally injected with the virus that causes hepatitis and then monitored to gauge the effects of gamma globulin in combating it. After lots of investigating, Willowbrook was publicly exposed on television in 1972. Geraldo Rivera exposed a ward crowded with children, mostly naked. Some were smeared with their own feces. Essentially unattended, they were everywhere, knocking their heads against walls, one even lapping water from a toilet bowl.

My new friend was raised in institutions. Once turning 18, he joined our organization and has thankfully had a place to call home for 32 years. He loves life, treats others well, and finds harmony in a simple cup of coffee. He holds my hands tightly while he completes his physical therapy exercises. His hands remind me exactly of my father’s. It’s comforting. To learn about the conditions that people with disabilities had to endure within these state institutions is so horrifying. What’s more horrifying is to let my mind picture the person who looks at me, with love-filled eyes, from across the breakfast table, to say “thank you, my friend” …it’s horrifying to envision his joyous spirit, just a child, trapped in the hell I’m imagining.

I once heard in a lecture “if you’re not outraged, then perhaps you aren’t paying attention.” Earlier this afternoon, I felt outraged. But for tonight, as the cool wind snakes in the window I take a breath of relief. Tomorrow morning shall bring a cup of coffee with a dear friend, and a new outlook on their story.