Title I of the ADA covers employment. My assumption is that having an equal opportunity to have a job is integral to being able to participate in society. My jaw drops reading EEOC press releases that detail the complete lack of empathy some employers have towards their employees. Not all employment issues have to do with outright intentional discrimination. I think the root of most employment issues involving disability is a lack of understanding. Today, I want to tell a story about a time in my life when I lacked the understanding that I had rights under Title I of the ADA.
Before I get too far into the weeds, I’ll explain the basics around Title I of the ADA.
An employer has to employ 15 or more employees to be a covered entity of Title I of the ADA. Some states have laws which lower that number for state enforcement. The basic principle behind Title I is that an employee with a disability should be able to perform their essential job functions with or without reasonable accommodation. A reasonable accommodation is anything that removes the barrier to their job the employee is experiencing that is satisfactory to both the employer and employee. The interactive process is a conversation which the employee and employer engage in to understand what reasonable accommodation exists to allow the employee to apply for, retain, or benefit from their employment. The threshold to communicating this need to an employer can be as simple as communicating a work barrier due to a medical condition to a supervisor. There is plenty more nuance to reasonable accommodation, but that is all one may need to understand for my story to make sense.
Years ago, before I joined the staff at the ADA Center and even before my career as a Paralympic cyclist, I was a working musician. To make a meager living, I taught trombone lessons, taught music part-time at schools, and agreed to any gig I could get connected to. One of my opportunities to perform music for the public was working at Disneyland as a musician, on the substitute roster. There were 3 regular trombone positions that I was on a list of subs to fill-in for the regulars when they needed time off. Overall, it was a fun job that allowed me to perform with truly great musicians.
One of the regular trombone positions involved playing the bass trombone. I was always good at filling in for the different roles of a music group and felt very capable of performing on the bass trombone whenever called upon. The bass trombone is a lot heavier though, than my standard tenor trombone. We also had to wear costumes which were somewhat restrictive. A completely able-bodied person might not even notice the restriction of movement, but as a person with limited strength and mobility in my left arm, I definitely noticed. Some of the costumes also had a number of buttons to secure, which was a huge barrier to me with limited dexterity. In fact, it wasn’t until I was around 20 years old that I first buttoned the cuff of a dress shirt with my left hand. It only took me 45 minutes. I’ve cut that down to around a minute these days.
The nature of growing up with a disability that no one else you know can relate to is that you just accept things as they are and deal with them. That’s how I approached life. One unique aspect of having a neurological condition is that some days are worse than others when it comes to nerve function.
As a sub in the Disneyland Band, I was not expected to memorize the entire music book for each trombone position. I could use a lyre to prop up a book of miniaturized music to read in the park. Normal practice for the first set of the day was to play one standardized opening musical number and the rest was at the whim of the band leader. One particular day, I was called to play bass trombone and had a bad neurological day. The added weight of the music book and the restrictive costume made my heavy bass trombone almost too heavy for me to even hold. I remember my left arm trembling from the effort. Needless to say, I was not able to perform music adequately under those conditions. No one said anything, but I knew that I sounded bad, and everyone knew it. Only I knew why. This didn’t necessarily have a direct impact on me from my employer, but it did send me into a downward spiral of depression. I identified my sense of self so much with my work at that time. I’d never felt that sense of shame before or since. This experience triggered an existential crisis for me, my career, and sense of worth.
The thing I understand now is that that could have easily been prevented. If I had known I had the right to ask, I could have had the band leader choose the tunes ahead of time, so I didn’t have to hold the entire weight of the brick of music during the performance. I could have just taken out the music I needed and nothing extra. That might’ve been a reasonable accommodation that didn’t cost the company any money to provide. All it required was for me to ask the supervisor to modify a practice to allow me to perform my job to my abilities.
Years later, I have moved on but still use that experience to guide me into understanding that although I take a lot of pride in performing my job well, the things I do no longer serve as a proxy for my sense of self-worth. That said, I dealt with a lot of negative emotions for something that was truly trivial to address, had I known I had the right to ask. I did not identify myself as a person with a disability at that time, just someone with a permanent medical condition that affected my arm. I’m not sure if knowing my rights then would have made a big impact on the course of my life between then and now. I would like to educate others to understand my experience so others with similar experiences know they are not alone. Or better yet, realize they can put in a simple request that could positively affect their lives.