There is a popular phrase, particularly in disability-rights activism, that is used to denote the idea that no policy should be decided without the input of major stakeholders: “Nothing About Us, Without Us”. Besides being a catchy slogan, it is a principle that should apply across all sectors – especially international development.
A great many organisations seem to pride themselves on being a ‘voice for the voiceless’. Whilst this might come from a place of good intent, it begins with dangerous assumptions. We’ve said it before: language is a powerful thing. Such an expression articulates an inherent power imbalance – one that becomes quite clear when you deconstruct the phrase.
First, we make the assumption that there is such a group as ‘the voiceless’. As Judithe Registre maintains in her 2017 blog post, we have somehow accepted this as a suitable classification, and continue to leave its “origin or relevance” unchallenged. To deem a person voiceless is not only an inaccuracy, but an indignity; it denies the value of their experiences and emotions, the right to the expression of identity and self. “There’s really no such thing as the voiceless. There are only the deliberately silenced, or the preferably unheard.” Arundhati Roy’s words ring true here; to accept that a person or group can be voiceless is to be complicit in their silencing.
To then ‘become’ a person or group’s voice is to then presumptiously grant ourselves the authority to speak on their behalf. In doing so, we are centring ourselves in the conversation. The narrative becomes about us, rather than them – a disempowering move.
Instead, we should approach advocacy as allies; walking the fine line between being a voice alongside disenfranchised people, whilst acknowledging that their stories carry more weight than our own. Being a good advocate means listening first, and amplifying the voices of those who are oppressed or marginalised. A person might be non-verbal – yet they still have a voice. The challenge, and solution, is to find an appropriate means of communication – to afford them the dignity of sharing their own story, in their own way, and own time. Instead of becoming a ‘voice for the voiceless’, we should be seeking to empower and enable people to speak for themselves.
What does this mean for Disability Africa? Well, in terms of our Monitoring, Evaluation, and Learning (ME&L) strategy, it means that we are considering varied and innovative approaches to gathering rich and meaningful data not only about, but also from the disabled young people accessing our projects. Tom, our ME&L Co-ordinator, has been working hard to ensure that we will include and prioritise such voices in upcoming project evaluations – to ensure that they will be neither silenced nor unheard.
Through our model of Inclusive Community Development, we are equipping local people with the tools and confidence to advocate for the most disadvantaged members of their community. Most importantly, for the disabled young people on our projects, play is a wonderful advocacy tool in itself. Playschemes are the perfect setting for disabled young people to demonstrate what they are capable of, in contexts where others are often more aware of what they can’t do. It allows children to explore their own interests, in their own time, giving them autonomy over their decisions – in contexts where choices are often made for them. Play is a means of communication that is accessible to everyone, and affords the dignity of contribution to even the youngest and least verbal children. Parents and neighbours often express their amazement at the children’s progress – play speaks volumes. The best part? Inherent in its nature is that it requires participants to take an active role. As a result, advocacy through play organically ensures that there is ‘nothing about them, without them’.