Dialogues on Disability: Shelley Tremain Interviews Melinda Hall

https://goo.gl/69v4PS

I was raised in an evangelical Christian household in rural Ohio and was homeschooled until the fourth grade for religious reasons. I recall that after I transitioned to public school, I asked to be excused from science lessons on evolution and was completely bewildered that my teacher was upset with the request. Church and religion dominated my childhood, but I did not then realize how different my life looked from the lives of those outside my particular enclave.

Because my dad is a pastor, I, along with my three siblings, was under a great deal of oppressive scrutiny within the church. My personality and behaviors were continually monitored both within and outside the family. Because of this, I had little privacy and felt that my parents valued the opinions of other people, or perhaps even their wants and needs, more than my fundamental needs or development. I desired recognition from my father as an authority figure and struggled mightily with the fact that I continually failed to meet his (often shifting) expectations. In that way, at least, my story is not an unusual one. But, atypically, since I was educated at home and my dad was an authority figure at the primary institution where I was socialized, I did not have a competing authority structure or system to provide insights about alternatives and opportunities for change.

I remember that I was obsessed with proper etiquette and bodily comportment—I thought all the time about making myself as unobtrusive as possible—and with abstract concepts like purity and goodness, a preoccupation that I now understand was racially-inflected, among other things. This was true even while I subverted rules and tested limits. I think that I wanted to prove that I was lovable even if I was “immoral;” but, I was, at the same time, also hyper-aware of rules and believed that one’s value came directly from rule-following. Long before I became a teenager, being appropriately feminine and growing into what the church understood as Christian womanhood was a major, daily issue that I had to confront, plan for, and control. I received the strong message that I needed to hold myself accountable to those norms or risk a variety of punishments, both immediately and in the future.

As a teenager, I often worked to "serve" the church in different capacities and wanted very badly to fight against injustice. The way that I understand injustice and how to fight it has radically changed from that time period, but in this way at least I have a continuous interest from my childhood. Teaching, as an adult, in a volunteer capacity at the Tomoka Correctional Institution is a way—among dedicated colleagues—to intervene against cruelty and build community ties in a fundamentally hostile space. Teaching work on disability there has been very important to me, revealing to me in an immediate way just how many disabled people are imprisoned, how many imprisoned people are disabled. I would estimate that, of the 20 men in the classes that I teach, 80 percent identify as, in some way, disabled.