Togetherness Looks Like..

As the daughter of a Deaf and learning disabled parent, throughout much of my adolescence into young adulthood, I witnessed a plethora of “lack” in various areas of my life: resources, community, support, care,

all buried under an immovable mound of ableism, classism, and poverty, topped with boulders of inaccessibility.

As I grew older, graduated from college, and began to attempt to create my own sense of stability and community, I then realized even with what felt like many of the burdens of my childhood eliminated, “the lack” seemed to sprout up and reappear in various areas of my life. I realized the root of “the lack” that couldn’t seem to break away from my life, was masked by a gap in inclusivity, in togetherness.

I first saw it in myself. Excited to re-enter St. Louis as a talented, creative, and advocate, it seemed all that I accomplished in Springfield Missouri, at Missouri State University was not enough to be accepted by the communities I so badly wanted to participate in and be a part of. When asking for guidance or collaboration amongst fellow creatives I was quickly shot down, and instead found support in older professionals who looked nothing like me at all. I continued to wonder why I could not find community in those who had endured the same struggles as me. It was as if the community was locked and had a special code, and if you were not a familiar face or had some form of respect or recognition you would not be supported or accepted.

I saw it differently with my mother. A single African American 56-year-old Deaf woman. As her daughter, I struggle to find ways to support her and serve as her interpreter, caregiver, and personal assistant while allowing her to find her own sense of community and navigate the city with independence. Organizations refuse to meet her where she is and only support one side of her while completely ignoring her Deafness. The difficulty I found in trying to find a caseworker who would interpret for my mom or help to make Dr. Appointments was shattering. My family found themselves having endless conversations with caseworkers who would quickly state what they were and were not going to do for her, while not questioning another individual with a disability outside of Deafness. It seems when people have to go out of their way to include someone or encounter someone with newness or something they don’t care to try to understand; it is a lot easier to exclude than to work on how to make one feel supported and included.

Lack of inclusivity or togetherness finds its way beyond myself and my mother and out into various communities within St. Louis as well. For example, we see there are various organizations dedicated to improving the lives of disadvantaged young people, and young people of color; there are various organizations dedicated to the improvement of young, middle-aged, and older women. To name a few: Wyman, College Bound, Bridge programs, Girls on the Run, Daughters of Divinity, Ladies of Elegance, AKA Fashionetta, Delta Gems, Rung for Women, Haven of Grace, and Almost Home. Adversely, there is much scarcity in organizations whose mission solely focuses on improving the lives of Black men, or young disadvantaged men entirely. What you see is one high school in North County, Hazelwood East, high school, bringing together Fathers, instructors, and mentors to curate a lock-in experience one night a year to help uplift the young Black men of the community.

On a macro level in terms of community resources. We see a plentitude of resources and small businesses that have sprung up on the southside. What has now been named our beloved “Art District” of St. Louis is bringing revenue and creating jobs for those in the community, while resources, revenue, and job availability is almost non-existent on the north side of St. Louis. Our north side of St. Louis houses many staples of St. Louis such as Crown Candy, and a plethora of music, literary, health, and art-based community organizations. The access to things that will help one to flourish in St. Louis as a community member, do not always find themselves in the palms of the residents who need it most. The resources and awareness of such things seem very individualized and at times completely zoned and separate. I understand one municipality of St. Louis cannot mirror another, however, it would seem that through inclusivity these resources would at least find themselves becoming more accessible to those who need them despite background history, knowledge, sex, identity, and above all zip-code. The resources fall easily into upcoming established communities, and those who have prior knowledge, and connections. But what about individuals who don’t have the ability to create extensive networks in their ideal fields or areas of life that need expansion, or those who may not live in an “Instagram-worthy” municipality? How do we make these opportunities, and resources, accessible? Inclusivity, and togetherness, feed accessibility.

Accessibility is not a privilege, a gift, or something to work for in order to attain. Accessibility is free.

Everyone in their respective places with various identities in life deserves access to things that help them walk through life as the best version of themselves. They deserve to “be in the know” to be included in changes and happenings that are potentially improving St. Louisan’s lives. Locals deserve to know inclusivity not through definition, but through feeling. They deserve to feel as though things are within their reach. St. Louisans deserve to feel liberated not purely individually, but together. Inclusivity or togetherness surpasses coming together for the support of a St. Louis-bred star athlete, “no shade” to Jayson Tatum, but instead embodies the coming together of networks, supports, systems of care, and resources from various sides of the city. Togetherness looks like individuals from different diasporas coming together. Togetherness looks like opening up the possibility for citizens to interact with each other freely. Togetherness looks like being more giving to one another without prerequisites and a “clicky” “you can’t get in” individualized identity.

Togetherness looks like helping one another remove our mounds, boulder, and debris, not expecting one to be solely responsible for their own weight in dirt.

Rome wasn’t built in a day. Homes, lives, and professional careers, can not be built in a day, and none would be successful without the support of the various unique communities around them. Everyone gets a piece of the pie.

To bring this closer to home, unraveling my self-identity, my family introduced me to Helen Keller, at a young age. It helped me better understand disability, and how it showed up in our lives with my mother. The thing I respect most about Helen Keller is throughout all her triumph she discovered a very selfless critical lesson, that as individuals we could only change small things around us, but in order to create great change in cities, communities, and the world, we must put come together. She stated. “Alone we can do so little, together we can do so much.” Imagine what St. Louis could tackle if togetherness, made its way into the minds and hearts of every home in the 314 district. We start by standing together. We start with inclusivity.