Why Representation Matters

When I was younger and I was growing up, I didn't particularly think there was much difference between men and women. I didn't think much about who was making decisions for me at school or in my home life. I'm the first-born and have a younger brother. I assumed I would be the first to marry and have children, not necessarily because that was what I wanted, but because it was what was expected of me. Whether consciously or unconsciously, I was given to believe there were things I didn't need to learn or understand in any depth, because one day I would get married and my husband would take care of me, of those matters.

Maybe it was my background, and maybe this wasn't the same for my friends, or even my brother. I can't really say.

What I do know, is that for one reason or another, I haven't married or had children of my own until now. I may never do so.

And, ironically, it was being diagnosed with a Learning Difficulty that showed me why representation matters, and why women need to be equally involved in decision making, that impacts them in any way, no matter how minor or indirect.

I thought it was harmless for men to make these decisions, until I became part of a group of 10% of the population, and realised how important it is to be seen, to be heard, to have a voice. To be asked for your input and your opinion, and not be taken for granted that your needs are the same as everyone else.

Imagine booking onto a flight, not being asked about your dietary requirements, and boarding the flight to discover there is only one option available. Now imagine that option is not suitable for your needs, either due to a medical reason, or a religious reason, or even just the fact that you would like a second option.

In the last instance, you could choose to go hungry, but now imagine that you have a serious allergy and physically you are not able to eat the meal. At least if you'd been presented with options up-front, you could request a special meal, or make other arrangements.

I am not aware of any airlines that do not provide an option or state their availability up-front. Whether they do or not, though, we have the right to ask and make requests, and to decide whether to take the flight or make alternative arrangements.

Allowing men to make decisions on behalf of women is not harmless. Allowing people without a Learning Difficulty to make decisions on behalf of those who do, without asking them, is not harmless.

Perhaps a better analogy would be to offer to build a house for someone, without asking beforehand how the house needs to be built. The house may be wonderful and well-built, and generous, but if, say, this person requires a basement with a swimming pool, it's much harder, if not impossible, to add it in afterwards. Much harder to get planning permission after the fact, and more of an upheaval to make the change, and more disruptive. In the meantime, our imaginary person may not even be able to move in, even though the house appeared to be ready.

Much better to ask beforehand if the person needs any specific features to be built into the house, or even to ask if they need a basement with a swimming pool.

Then the architect and builders can request planning permission before starting to build. And even if it is not possible to build a basement with a swimming pool in this instance, let them know you are aware and have looked into the possibility, and discuss alternative options.

This is what I mean by representation – having someone in the room to speak from lived experience. Having been diagnosed with a Learning Difficulty as an adult, and lived with the challenges and characteristics of this for the past five years, I can tell you I do not speak for all people with a Learning Difficulty. However, I now have an idea of what it means not to have a say in some aspects of my life, just as I have come to realise that this is the same as decisions being made by men on behalf of women. They have not walked in those women's shoes, or seen the world through their eyes, and the greatest amount of empathy and sincerity simply cannot replace that fact.

Being diagnosed has taught me to have empathy and understanding for others. My Dyspraxia and ADD are not immediately visible to everyone, the way, for example, someone with a broken arm or eye-patch would be. But unlike a broken arm, my Dyspraxia will not magically be healed one day. It is a part of me, the same as the colour of my eyes, or my height.

I hope that this newfound empathy and curiosity of mine extends to other groups of people in the world, even if I am not a part of those groups, or cultures. I have learned that diversity opens up our horizons, and can make ideas stronger and more enduring. However, we need to give these groups at least a voice, a seat at the table, and when we ask them about their experiences, be willing to step into their world for just a little while.

And who knows, perhaps our ideas and solutions to the world’s challenges, will be the richer for it.

Lynn