Forty years ago, a heroic ‘Gang of 19’ disabled protestors surrounded a city bus at the intersection of Colfax and Broadway. They were protesting their lack of access, as the buses were not handicapped accessible. None in the country were. The police didn’t know what to do. They arrested their able-bodied friends and care-takers. As my dad said in the paper, ‘How are we going to have a civil rights movement if we can’t even get arrested?’
That quickly changed. As the protest persisted, the Gang of 19 were all arrested—the first of many—and the black eye on the city led to the buses being properly equipped. It was a huge victory.
And thus was born the modern disability rights movement. My dad was following the leadership of the honorable Reverend Wade Blank, a disabled rights hero who was gone from this planet too soon. Wade was like a godfather to my family and I remember him as so funny. And kind. But as Wade and my dad would quickly tell you, they were just following the fight for the basic human rights of a group of people who were tired of being warehoused in decrepit, negligent nursing homes, tired of being told by society that they didn’t belong out of doors or in restaurants, or libraries, or movie theaters, or on the bus or on the fucking sidewalk.
Out of that movement was born ATLANTIS, then ADAPT, which led to a national coalition that demanded and eventually achieved the passing of the Americans with Disabilities Act. The Gang of 19, Wade Blanc, and my dad, their legal counsel, as well as so many others were heroic that day, as they continue to be in the ongoing fight for disability rights, a fight that continues all the way to the offices of the pricks trying to slash their Medicaid today.
But today isn’t about those assholes, it’s about the heroes, like my dad, up there saying a few words about his buddy Wade Blank. Congrats, Johnny H. Couldn’t be prouder of you.
