Why Equity is Important to Me
Alice M. Hammel
Early Years
My equity journey began in Sebring, Florida. This tiny town reflected much of the south during
the 1970’s. We all attended the same school because there was only one in town. However, we
lived in very separate places. Honestly, there was still a space for people of color to live. While
we had classmates of different races, our friends were confined to our own race. I don’t
remember ever hearing that as an expectation. It just was the way things were. I do remember
cheerleader tryouts in the 7
th
grade. One girl wore a shirt that said, “we need more black
cheerleaders” on it. I was stuck by this because I had never noticed the discrepancy on teams
and cheer squads. That was the first time I recognized my privilege even though I didn’t have a
word for it.
Class wasn’t a big topic in my hometown as everyone lived right about the poverty line or
lower. The town is frequently cited as one of the poorest in the United States. In that, we were
similar to everyone in the town. However, the ‘quarter’ where people of color lived was
drastically less financially stable than the rest of the town.
Being a member of the LGBTQIA+ community was something we did not regularly speak about
as young people. Slurs and homophobic comments were constant, and jokes were everywhere.
At church, we kept hearing that being gay was a one-way ticket to hell. I remember being at a
party and sitting next to my friend, Cliff. We were talking and he told me he had a crush on two
twins in our class. One was male and the other female. My curiosity was piqued and I told him
we needed to find out which twin he really liked. Our Nancy Drew sleuthing determined that
while he did like Ross, he could never act on it because the community and church would turn
on him.
Students with disabilities were not in our school as there were no services for them. Some went
to a separate school that used to house students of color. Many children with disabilities did
not go to school at all. The only place I saw these children was in the medical office where my
parents worked. These experiences, as I changed treatment tables and emptied trash cans,
were critical to my initial interest in disabilities. I wasn’t so much learning about them as I was
immersed from birth in the medical model of disability.
College
I remember going to a school-wide church service to celebrate Black History Month. I was very
interested in learning and hearing music I did not know. The music I heard remains with me to
this day. When the group began to sing “Lift Every Voice and Sing” they all stood up. I stood up
with them because that seemed to be the thing to do. The person next to me grabbed my arm
and pulled me back into my seat. She whispered loudly, “this is for them and not us.” I
remember thinking that song was one of the most hauntingly beautiful things I had ever heard.
