There are some things I believe without the irritable searching after the incitements of thought. For instance, John Wayne in The Searchers is crafty, brash, full of doubt, and accordingly believable as a man who is searching for his niece on the 19th century American frontier. I believe in doubt. Admire it in fact. Each day I invariably doubt my own capacities. I wonder if I can change the things that are in my immediate vicinity and influence those things that are ostensibly beyond me–the global. I recognize that I'm a searcher. I want the places where I work to be accessible to people with disabilities–want them to go beyond compliance as we like to say in the disability advocacy world. Yet, like John Wayne I feel rained on, sometimes find myself taking shelter under a tree. Just a few days ago I complained about a broken wheelchair ramp at Syracuse University. SU doesn't have an ADA Coordinator who counsels individual departments and facilities personnel. Everything is decentralized which means, alas, that access gets left behind and so I come along, newly minted, the fresh faculty face, and complain. Now there are meetings scheduled. The good townsfolk are gathering. This is good. I am capable of advocacy–the brashness, the inexorable crafty and pushy qualities of the activist are mine. But I am doubtful too. Syracuse University should be farther along with its accessibility initiatives. I doubt my efficacy. I'm tired of ADA failures in the places where I work. I've seen it all before. I doubt the system. Doubt myself. Keep moving. Keep talking. Where's Vera Miles? Where's Natalie Wood?
Planet of the Blind 