- Ngôn ngữAfrikaans Argentina AzÉrbaycanca
á¥áá áá£áá Äesky Ãslenska
áá¶áá¶ááááá à¤à¥à¤à¤à¤£à¥ বাà¦à¦²à¦¾
தமிழ௠à²à²¨à³à²¨à²¡ ภาษาà¹à¸à¸¢
ä¸æ (ç¹é«) ä¸æ (é¦æ¸¯) Bahasa Indonesia
Brasil Brezhoneg CatalÃ
ç®ä½ä¸æ Dansk Deutsch
Dhivehi English English
English Español Esperanto
Estonian Finnish Français
Français Gaeilge Galego
Hrvatski Italiano Îλληνικά
íêµì´ LatvieÅ¡u Lëtzebuergesch
Lietuviu Magyar Malay
Nederlands Norwegian nynorsk Norwegian
Polski Português RomânÄ
Slovenšcina Slovensky Srpski
Svenska Türkçe Tiếng Viá»t
Ù¾Ø§Ø±Ø³Û æ¥æ¬èª ÐÑлгаÑÑки
ÐакедонÑки Ðонгол Ð ÑÑÑкий
СÑпÑки УкÑаÑнÑÑка ×¢×ר×ת
اÙعربÙØ© اÙعربÙØ©
Trang chủ / Đề mục / Thẻ black experience 2
ADAPT (354)
Austin American-Statesman Sunday, October 25, 1987 Lifestyle section Title: Streetcars and Desire Activist couple dedicate lives to tearing down walls between city buses and the disabled By Carlos Vidal Greth, American-Statesman Staff (This is a compilation of the article that is on ADAPT 354 and ADAPT 353. The content is all included here for easier reading.) Most visitors to the Bay Area relish the opportunity to hop a cable car and "climb halfway to the stars," as Tony Bennett croons in his signature song, I Left My Heart in San Francisco. Stephanie Thomas, organizer for Americans Disabled for Accessible Public Transportation, had other ideas. "To mobility-impaired people, keeping those historic symbols of public transit alive memorializes inaccessibility and makes it seem like a positive thing," she said. ADAPT, a national civil-rights group, strives to make it easier for disabled people to ride city buses. They differ from mainstream disability-rights groups in that members sometimes commit acts of civil disobedience when the usual political channels clog or hit a dead end. Thomas, her husband Bob Kafka, and eight other Austinites went to San Francisco in late September to conduct a protest during the national convention of the American Public Transit Association, a lobbying organization. Kafka and 15 others were arrested when they climbed out of their wheelchairs and staged a sit-in at the cable car turnaround at Powell and Market streets. Thomas was arrested twice, once for blocking a shuttle bus and once for blocking a cable car. "I've been arrested eight times or so," she said. "I've lost count. Bob has been arrested 14 times. The police are usually aware it's a demonstration about civil rights, and that we're not out to hurt their city. But it's scary. We're not automatons. Some members break down and cry when they go to prison." As far as Thomas is concerned, the suffering has been worth it. "The demonstrations got national exposure. More important, we got the transit association's attention. They are beginning to listen." Thomas, who is also executive director of the Coalition of Texans With Disabilities, could sit for a poster portrait of the committed political activist. Her shock of amber hair shifts of its own accord like the wind ruffling a field of grain. Wide, blue eyes fix visitors with the riveting gaze of a woman who believes she fights for what is right. She was born 30 years ago in New York to parents who fought for justice in their way. Her father organized political campaigns and worked for arms control. Her mother, a writer, was involved in the women's movement. "Mom taught me to question people's perceptions," Thomas said. "The women's and disabled movements have something in common: We're defined by our bodies. You have to fight that all the time." Her first protest occurred when she was in elementary school. Mothers in the apartment building where her family lived wanted to establish a day-care center. The owners didn't want to provide the space. "Women and children took over the building," Thomas said. "We weren't angry college protestors. We were non-threatening moms and kids. But our presence made a difference." Despite her progressive upbringing, she was a shy girl who hid from the world behind the covers of books. When she was 17, her legs were paralyzed when she fell off a farm tractor while doing chores. What could have been a tragedy turned her life around. "I realized that life doesn't go on forever, and that you need to make the most of every moment," Thomas said. Thomas attended Harvard, where she and other disabled students organized a group to help make campus more accessible. "When I look back, I see we were very tame,” she said. “We were polite but usually got what we asked for.” Over the years, Thomas became increasingly active in disability rights. She got involved in independent living centers, communities of disabled people supporting one another so they can live with dignity outside institutions. In the early 1980s, she joined the Austin Resources Center for Independent Living. She went to work for the Coalition of Texans With Disabilities in 1985. The 9-year-old coalition lobbies for, represents and coordinates 90 organizations (including ADAPT) concerned with disabilities, as well as the more than 2 million disabled Texans. “It is the collective voice for the disabled in Texas,” said Kaye Beneke, spokeswoman for the Texas Rehabilitation Commission. "They’re committed - the members live every day with the problems they try to solve. “Stephanie understands there’s a spectrum of political views in the coalition, which tend to be more middle-of-the-road than ADAPT. She takes responsibility for the representing of all those views. But don’t call the coalition passive. They’ve had their way in the legislature and on the local level.” As a leader in two of Texas major disability-rights organizations, Thomas has her hands full. It helps having Bob Kafka, who broke his back in a car accident in 1973, at her side. The experienced trouble maker -- albeit trouble for a good cause -- has made a name for himself. He won the Governor’s Citation for Meritorious Service in 1986. Appropriately, Kafka met Thomas at a disability-rights conference. “Stephanie was real involved, real committed and real attractive,” he said. Sharing home and office has increased their commitment to the cause they serve- and to each other. “Bob and I are an activist couple,” Thomas said. “It’s intense because we work so closely. But it’s rewarding. It has made us an incredibly tight couple.” Thomas has to rework her concept of activism when she joined ADAPT. “Demonstrations force the public to look at disabled people in a different light,” she said. “The cripple is the epitome of powerlessness. We say we’re sorry if it scares you to look at me, but we have to live our lives.” Confrontation, however can cost allies as well as foes. This year, the Paralyzed Veterans of America severed ties with ADAPT and any organization "advocating illegal civil disobedience.” “Our charter states that we must act in accordance with the laws of the land,” said Phil Rabin, director of education. “To act otherwise would be to violate our charter. “The veterans and ADAPT members share first-hand the frustration of living in a society that is not accessible to the disabled. We don’t want to fight ADAPT. It’s a waste of precious resources to divert our energies.” Though Thomas’ group is controversial, it has achieved many of its goals. Albert Engleken, deputy executive director for the American Public Transit Association in Washington, D.C., acknowledged that ADAPT’s street theater has had some effect. In September his organization created a task force to study the issue of providing service for disabled, he said. Engelken, however is not a convert to their cause. “ADAPT wants a lift on every transit bus in the country,” Engelken said. “We believe it should be left to local transit authorities to decide how to handle transportation for disabled people. Transit officials are not robber barons. We’re paid by the public to provide the most mobility for the most people.” Thomas knows how to work within the system. Ben Gomez, director of development for Capital Metro, said ADAPT members have been effective on the Mobility Impaired Service Advisory Committee, which makes recommendations on service to the transit authority board of directors. “They’re well-organized,” Gomez said. “We don’t always agree on the approach and issues. We’ve made many of the adjustments they’ve asked for, but not always within their time frame.” The concessions have been gratifying, but Thomas has only begun to fight. “ADAPT took a dead issue änd made it hot again,” she said. For information on American Disabled for Accessible Public Transportation, write to ADAPT of Texas, 2810 Pearl, Austin 78705/ To learn more about the Coalition of Texans With Disabilities, call 443-8252, or write to P.O. Box 4709, Austin 78765. [curator note: addresses and phone numbers no longer valid] Staff Photo by Mike Boroff: A man (Bob Kafka) with Canadian (wrist cuff) crutches, a plaid shirt, light colored jeans and sneakers sits in the lap of a woman (Stephanie Thomas) with wild big hair and a button down shirt. She is sitting in a manual wheelchair. Caption reads: "Bob and I are an activist couple,” says Stephanie Thomas who met Bob Kafka at a rights conference. “It’s intense because we work so closely. But it’s rewarding.” Photo by Russ Curtis: A group of protesters are looking up at something over their heads and their mouths are open shouting. In the front of the picture a woman in a manual wheelchair (Stephanie Thomas) is sitting on a line on the pavement that reads passenger zone. She has her finger raised pointing and is wearing a t-shirt with the ADAPT no-steps logo. Beside her is a man (Jim Parker) with a headband looking back over his shoulder, beside him another man in a wheelchair. Behind Jim stands a woman (Babs Johnson) with her arms by her sides and her mouth open yelling. Behind her a line of other protesters is arriving. Caption reads: ADAPT organizer Stephanie Thomas traveled to San Francisco to participate in a rally protesting the policies of the American Public Transit Association.
ADAPT (241)
The Cincinnati Post, Wednesday, June 11, 1986 11A Opinion Small photo of the head of a white man with short hair and black rimmed eye glasses. James L. Adams Crosscurrents Title: Pretenders to the Civil Rights movement The attempts of minorities of all stripes to identify with the black experience in America to gain even legitimate goals strike me as being a deception and a fraud. It also trivializes the dehumanization the blacks suffered at the hands of the white majority for 350 years. Only one group was brought to this country in chains, treated like animals, sold on the block like livestock, forced to live in shanties and valued only for the labor they could produce. And even after being freed from the shackles of slavery, blacks were denied their civil rights for another 100 years. No other group in this country has had to suffer those indignities. Yet minorities as diverse as militant feminists, homosexuals and the handicapped hoist the banner of oppression and try to do a black face routine as farcical as the old showboat acts on the Mississippi of the last century. The wheelchair protests staged by the Denver-based American Disabled for Accessible Public Transit (ADAPT) here last month are only the latest examples of groups with gripes trying to piggyback on the black civil rights struggle. Let us all agree that more needs to be done to make sure the disabled among us can get where they want to go. And there obviously are cities doing more than Cincinnati to make public transportation accessible. Denver is one. But that is begging the question. Cincinnati is not Denver. Queen City Metro is strapped for funds. It cannot provide all the service it would like for the handicapped—or even the able-bodied. But the issue is money, not civil rights. Determined to get arrested, the wheelchair protesters blocked the Westin hotel entrances, grabbed onto the wheel well of buses to keep them from moving, and one wacko with a death wish even rolled into the path of a bus going 40 mph. Bob Kafka, one of the 14 arrested—and given special treatment at the Hamilton County Justice Center—wrote a letter to The Post that began: “I am writing this letter from the Hamilton County Jail, in which I am spending Memorial Day, for the crime of trying to ride public transportation." Kafka's emotional appeal falls flat. (He obviously was trying to imitate Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., whose famous “Letter from the Birmingham Jail" stirred the conscience of a nation.) Kafka's crime was not that of trying to ride public transportation. He was charged with disorderly conduct for crawling aboard a bus, dragging his wheelchair, dropping 50 cents in the fare box and then demanding to ride - knowing full well the bus could not move with him on it. But Kafka, in his letter, attempts to equate the problems of the handicapped with those of blacks who were forced to ride in the back of the bus: “Those in power have decided to oppress us and make sure disabled people do not ‘step out of line’ and assert their rights," Kafka wrote. “Queen City Metro decided they were going to keep disabled people in their place.” By couching his complaint in vintage 1960s language, Kafka confuses the issue. The disabled should be heard. But they should give rational reasons for their demands for equal access to public transportation and not try posing as an oppressed minority that dares not “step out of line." I didn't see any cattle prods or police dogs used to quell the demonstrations. After the protesters had left town, Council Member David Mann had pangs of conscience that caused him to make some of the silliest statements in the annals of Mann. “It seems to me that every human being in Cincinnati — visitors, handicapped or otherwise — had the absolute right to enter the Fountain Square South complex on equal terms," Mann wrote, as if he had been living in a cave during the four-day wheelchair protests. “If you and I were free to move unfettered into the public areas of the Westin, then those who happen to move by wheelchair should have been treated precisely the same." I know philosophers have struggled for centuries to define reality. After reading Mann’s views on what took place in front of the Westin, I can understand why. His perceptions are unreal. Those who happened to “move by wheelchair” were not treated precisely the same as others because they were intentionally trying to block the entrances and disrupt bus service. That's called breaking the law. It seems to me that even a council member from Clifton, who happens to be a lawyer, should be able to make that distinction. The restrictions were not based on class discrimination. Rather, they were triggered by those misguided handicapped persons who believe they can gain greater access to public places by denying that right to others. The wheelchair protesters would have scored more points with the public by shunning crazy antics and making their appeal in a sane manner. I think it revealing that the Greater Cincinnati Coalition of People With Disabilities refused to participate in the public demonstrations. The coalition leaders believe they can accomplish more by talking with local city and bus officials than by trying to disrupt traffic. They certainly will gain more public sympathy. James L Adams is associate editor of The Post. PHOTO by the Associated Press: Two men in wheelchairs, one with dark curly hair and a beard in a manual wheelchair (Bob Kafka), and the other with long braids, a headband and a dark beard (Mike Auberger), block a narrow hallway. Both are wearing light colored shirts with the ADAPT no steps logo in black. Behind them at least seven men -- two appear to be police officers -- stand, looking somewhat exasperated. caption reads: Bob Kafka. left, and Mike Auberger chained themselves together to block the entrance to Queen City Metro offices.