“Special” is the language of patients captive to a disability industrial complex. “We have a medical community that’s found a sickness for every single human difference. DSM keeps growing every single year with new ways to be defective, with new ways to be lessened.” “We have created a system that has you submit yourself, or your child, to patient-hood to access the right to learn differently. The right to learn differently should be a universal human right that’s not mediated by a diagnosis.” Identity-first is the language of agents. By replacing “special” with social model language, we can begin the transformation from patient to agent.

“Special” is the language of compliance. Disabled kids “are driven to comply, and comply, and comply. It strips them of agency. It puts them at risk for abuse.” “Prioritize teaching noncompliance and autonomy to your kids. Prioritize agency.” “The most important thing a developmentally disabled child needs to learn is how to say “no.” If they only learn one thing, let it be that.” “It’s of crucial importance that behavior based compliance training not be central to the way we parent, teach, or offer therapy to autistic children. Because of the way it leaves them vulnerable to harm, not only as children, but for the rest of their lives.“

“Special” is the language of forced intimacy.

Forced intimacy is a cornerstone of how ableism functions in an able bodied supremacist world. Disabled people are expected to “strip down” and “show all our cards” metaphorically in order to get the basic access we need in order to survive.

Forced Intimacy: An Ableist Norm | Leaving Evidence

“Special” is the language of abuse. People that are “special” can be tormented and murdered.

• Why I Left ABA | Socially Anxious Advocate
• I Abused Children For A Living – Diary Of A Birdmad girl
• I Abused Children And SO DO YOU: A Response To An ABA Apologist – Diary Of A Birdmad girl
• I’m an ABA therapist, I’ve noticed a lot of the… – neurowonderful
• I’m sorry, but that’s not earning your token
• ‘Cardgate’ Scandal Uncovers Widespread Disrespect of Autistic People | NOS Magazine
• The Misbehaviour of Behaviourists
• Applied Behaviour Analysis – Personal Reflections
• Read what one autistic adult had to say the day she realised that the therapy she went through as a child was actually ABA.
• Mindset Marketing, Behaviorism, and Deficit Ideology
• Autistic Empathy
• The Double Empathy Problem: Developing Empathy and Reciprocity in Neurotypical Adults
• My Thoughts on ABA – Autism Women’s Network

Change our vocabulary, and change our framing. Use the inclusive language of neurodiversity & the social model of disability. Use the power of identity first language to connect disabled kids with an identity and tribe. With identity-first pride and a social model tribe at their backs, kids can better develop voice, agency, and the tools of self-determination.

People forget disability is a term that comes w/ civil rights because it’s codified in statute. “Differently abled” “handicapable” & “special needs” aren’t. It’s also a word WE chose when we named the ADA, not a word chose by nondisabled ppl 2 make them feel better. #saytheword

@RebeccaCokley

The time is now for social model inclusion. Our needs are human needs, not special needs. Language matters.

A disabled person’s right to access public spaces isn’t a special need.

A disabled person’s diet isn’t a special need.

A disabled person’s right to information & communication isn’t a special need.

A disabled person’s accommodation isn’t a special need.

Charis Hill | they/them on Twitter

Although human diversity, the social model of disability and inclusion as human rights framework concepts are developing traction, for much of society the “special story” still goes like this:

A child with “special needs” catches the “special bus” to receive “special assistance” in a “special school” from “special education teachers” to prepare them for a “special” future living in a “special home” and working in a “special workshop”.

Does that sound “special” to you?

The word “special” is used to sugar-coat segregation and societal exclusion – and its continued use in our language, education systems, media etc serves to maintain those increasingly antiquated “special” concepts that line the path to a life of exclusion and low expectations.

The logic of the connection between “special needs” and “special [segregated] places” is very strong – it doesn’t need reinforcement – it needs to be broken.

Further, the “special needs” label sets up the medical “care” model to disability rather than the social inclusion model of disability. It narrows and medicalises society’s response to the person by suggesting that the focus should be on “treating” their “special needs”, rather than on the person’s environment responding to and accommodating the person – including them for the individual that they are.

There is another insidious but serious consequence of being labelled (as having or being) “special needs”.  The label carries with it the implication that a person with “special needs” can only have their needs met by “special” help or “specially-trained” people – by “specialists”.  That implication is particularly powerful and damaging in our mainstream schooling systems – it is a barrier to mainstream schools, administrators and teachers feeling responsible, empowered or skilled to embrace and practice inclusive education in regular classrooms, and accordingly perpetuates attitudinal resistance to realising the human right to inclusive education under Article 24 of the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities.

In other words, the language of “special needs” leads to, and serves to excuse, a “can’t do” attitude as the default position of many general educators – it effectively deprives inclusive education of its necessary oxygen – a conducive “can do” classroom culture.

“He ain’t special, he’s my brother” – Time to ditch the phrase “special needs” – Starting With Julius

Often when the radical voice speaks about domination we are speaking to those who dominate. Their presence changes the nature and direction of our words. Language is also a place of struggle. I was just a girl coming slowly into womanhood when I read Adrienne Rich’s words “this is the oppressor’s language, yet I need it to talk to you.” This language that enabled me to attend graduate school, to write a dissertation, to speak at job interviews carries the scent of oppression. Language is also a place of struggle.

Language is also a place of struggle. We are wedded in language, have our being in words. Language is also a place of struggle. Dare I speak to oppressed and oppressor in the same voice? Dare I speak to you in a language that will move beyond the boundaries of domination — a language that will not bind you, fence you in, or hold you. Language is also a place of struggle. The oppressed struggle in language to recover ourselves, to reconcile, to reunite, to renew. Our words are not without meaning, they are an action, resistance. Language is also a place of struggle.

Choosing the Margin as a Space of Radical Openness, bell hooks