One of the most admirable attributes of Tufts University is the student body's push for acceptance and open mindedness. We strive to end ignorance and bias on our campus, we strive to provide fair representation to minority groups in our multicultural population and we have a large and vocal queer community: all aspects that bring unique and refreshing perspectives to Tufts.
While this awareness makes me proud to be a member of the Tufts community, I have noticed one aspect that is clearly missing.
Multiple times each day, I will probably hear the word "retarded" uttered by many of my peers, people whom I respect and whose company I enjoy. Their word choice, however, is less than desirable. For a year and a half I have been bewildered by this observation, yet unsure how to make my opinion clear. Perhaps it is the fact that criticizing one's choice of words may seem like violation of free speech; perhaps it is the fact that the word use is so prevalent; or perhaps it is the fact that I have been worried about sounding too accusatory. In the meantime, while I gather the courage to speak my mind to my peers, I can raise awareness through this op-ed.
As an ally and supporter of the gay community, I welcome events such as National Coming Out Day and National Day of Silence. However, these supportive events serving to put a stop to ignorance cast into sharp relief the lack of support for the mentally handicapped community.
This past Wednesday, March 3, was a day on which people were encouraged to "spread the word to end the [R] word." While many college campuses put up flyers and sold T-shirts to raise awareness, there was no mention of any such day at Tufts. In fact, the "R word" was as prevalent as ever.
In emotional interviews posted on the Facebook.com group of Spread the Word to End the Word, a father of a mentally retarded girl says that it hurts him deeply to hear people call unpleasant things "retarded." He says that the "R word" is something that no father ever wants to hear. When people call something "retarded," they are essentially calling it "bad," and it breaks his heart to hear the same adjective that clinically classifies his daughter used in such a malevolent way.
Were a person to use a racial slur or dismiss something unfavorable as "gay," it would be quickly countered by his or her peers. Tufts does not promote such intolerance, and the open minds and attitudes I have seen here have inspired me. It brings me equal dismay, however, to hear people using the word "retarded" without consideration for the offense of others.
Tufts community, take note: Offense is taken. My mother teaches autistic pre-school age children, and I have worked at her school over the summer and developed a bond with many of them. A plethora of my friends work in the summer at a camp in my hometown for mentally handicapped people of many ages, and working with these people has changed their lives. The mentally handicapped are not jokes. They are not emotionless things to be ridiculed. They are someone's children, someone's brothers or sisters, someone's co-workers, someone's friends or someone's source of inspiration.
My personal source of inspiration is Dr. Temple Grandin, a woman diagnosed with autism as a child. Her parents were advised to institutionalize her, but Temple overcame the ignorance, oppression and bias surrounding her to obtain a Ph.D., publish several books, find work as an extremely talented livestock equipment designer and become a professor of animal science at Colorado State University.
With the open-minded atmosphere of Tufts University, it is shocking to believe that so many people simply dismiss the offensive and biting effects of the word "retarded." It is important to remember that while there is not a large, vocal, mentally handicapped presence at Tufts, there are many people in the world affected by mental disabilities and many people for whom the word can be incredibly hurtful.
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Anya Price is a sophomore majoring in biopsychology.
