When one is considered to be the component that makes a group diverse, it is easy to overlook the various forms of diversity, especially those marginalized within your very own marginalized group.
Growing up in Oak Park in the 1990s, diversity was simplified to me as the co-mingling of African Americans and their white counterparts. The narrative of achieving diversity and equality in the form of housing integration, classroom diversity, and resolving the achievement gap was, in fact, often framed as black and white.
This narrow framework bankrupts the true richness of diversity that also includes those living with disabilities, plus economic, political, and ethnic diversity — factors that impact our experiences in our community and conceive a diversity of thought that is reflective of this country. When we fail to include the richness of true diversity, we limit the ally’s lens and ability to combat the oppression of those they have yet to even acknowledge.
True diversity requires us to see each other, that is to be aware of each other’s differences, not as a form of tolerance but in celebration. Reflecting on my childhood in Oak Park in the 1990s our discussion of race and ethnicity often overlooked Latinx heritage and our discussion of equality and civil rights overlooked those living with disabilities. While one may attribute this to the relatively small population of those demographics in Oak Park’s classrooms, I strongly believe a demographic does not have to be overwhelmingly present for us as a community to afford the dignity of learning about it.
Curriculums conceive consciousness, and if one is to expect a predominately white school to celebrate Black History Month, we must ensure that our curriculums celebrate the contributions of those living with disabilities, the American Disabilities Act, LGBTQ (all five letters), Asian-American history, Latino-American History and so many more.
My own narrative has been enriched by exposure to narratives different from mine. Working at Equip for Equality, an agency designated to protect and advocate on behalf of those living with disabilities, enhanced not only my empathy but also my energy toward being an ally with those living with disabilities. Listening during intake to the anxiety of a mother concerned about where her son, who lives with a developmental disability, will live and work as an adult provided me with an imperative lens not only as an advocate but also as a mother. Her narrative created a sense of urgency in me to ensure that individuals living with disabilities have equal access to housing and employment.
My quality time with the women of Oak Park Progressive Women of Color has exposed me to the diversity of “color.” Listening to the narratives of my Asian-American, Latina-American, and biracial sisters has taught me the commonality of our oppression and, more importantly, the power of our unity.
Expanding my net of diversity has taught me that regardless of how diverse our paths may be, we are all fighting for a life of dignity for ourselves and our loved ones, and that must always be our common ground. But when we cut our definition of diversity short, we shorten our progress as a community toward that common destination of dignity for all.
Michelle Mbekeani, 27, is a lifetime resident of Oak Park. She is an attorney at the Sargent Shriver National Center on Poverty Law. She is the mother of an energetic and loving 2 year old boy. Michelle enjoys singing and volunteering thoughout the community, supporting Oak Park public schools, and the Oak Park Festival Theatre.
