Earlier this year, we started a community meeting for the parents and family members of children with disabilities in a small village in Northern Iraq.
At our first meeting, a few curious parents had already arrived. A couple more grandmothers and siblings trickled into the large village hall. Pleasantries were exchanged. Tea was served. We could tell that some of the parents were wondering when we would get started. But the children with disabilities we had invited were not there.
I asked one teenage girl, “Where is your sister Evlin?”
She replied in surprise, “Oh, we didn’t know she was supposed to come.”
“Of course! Her voice is really valuable.”
So her sister ran home to get Evlin, and a few of us carried her wheelchair up the stairs into the inaccessible old hall. Meanwhile, a few of the men went to Omed’s house, another boy with severe scoliosis and cerebral palsy. “You’re invited! We need you at this meeting.” Delighted and surprised, Omed directed his electric wheelchair to the hall, proudly accompanied by our physical therapist. Ten minutes later, we could begin. Because in disability advocacy, we know there is truly “Nothing about us without us.” At the following meetings, parents brought their children with disabilities, knowing this was a different kind of place—one where their voices mattered.
