My great-uncle Abie was what they called at the time “retarded.” A commonplace designation then, that label formed the basis of Abie’s trajectory in life: He had little to no formal schooling, lived with his parents his whole life and was often described by his sister, my grandmother, as a “nebuch.” Despite the challenges he faced, Uncle Abie’s parents wanted him to achieve as much as he could. His immigrant mother managed to teach him to read basic English even though she wasn’t fluent herself. He learned to put on tefillin. He is fondly remembered for his outgoing and friendly personality. 

I don’t know much more about Uncle Abie because we never met: I was named for him. But had he been born in the 21st century, Uncle Abie would have had an early intervention and a series of therapies, a social worker to help his parents navigate “the system,” options for schools, and perhaps a Big Brother or Big Sister program, Shabbatons and summer camps.  

And of course, we would never call him retarded.

In the last 60-plus years, there is no question that we have come a long way. Schools, “dayhabs,” summer camps and group homes have cropped up with branches all over the United States and indeed the world. Culturally, “special needs” is a household term. In most Jewish circles, more than 50% of young adults have had regular first-person interactions with someone who has an intellectual disability. And each year, February is dedicated to Jewish Disability Awareness, Acceptance and Inclusion Month. 

Nevertheless, we haven’t seen significant innovation in the special needs world in recent years, especially when it comes to true inclusion. Individuals with special needs find employment opportunities to be very limited. Community involvement tends to be limited to those few activities that have been deemed “appropriate.” And while the general culture of chesed (lovingkindness) is certainly laudable — how could it not be? — individuals with disabilities are too often the objects of someone else’s pursuit of kindness rather than seen for their own characteristics, talents and contributions.  

Read that again: They are treated as objects.  

This paradigm, however unintentional, is actually holding back those with disabilities. If we respect the agency of people with disabilities and have real expectations of them, then I believe we would see higher rates of employment and community engagement even without the dedicated Shabbatons and the chesed projects. Inspirational stories and videos could include disabled people just living life instead of being the human catalyst for someone else’s inspiration.  

To a large degree, the programs and community chesed efforts dedicated to those with disabilities have created the problem. There is no question that developments over the last half-century or so have been almost overwhelming, in a positive way: The same people who would have been institutionalized in terrible conditions are well-respected and confident participants in their respective communities, shuls and schools. Often, these men and women are regularly seen and acknowledged at community events, even as these manufactured experiences eventually fade away and the individual with special needs starts his or her slow walk back home (or waits for an Uber) to a more lonely or less exciting existence. 

But as their friends without disabilities who make many of these programs possible matriculate beyond their “mandated chesed” years, becoming busier with college and starting their own families, those with disabilities remain in the same place. With a new cohort of volunteers running the programs and chesed efforts comes the reminder that these aren’t “real friends,” even though they are certainly well-intentioned people being friendly.

More must be done on a communal level to help those with disabilities advance and reach their potential. Most successful businesses of all sizes have room for someone to work with them, even at a somewhat slower pace. For example, if we teach a young man or woman some of the more pertinent halachot of kashrut, he or she can be a successful mashgiach or mashgicha; and there is no shortage of simpler jobs which would be a dream come true for a currently unemployed person with a disability who wants, more than anything, to be a part of a productive team.

Communities need to think about true inclusion rather than separate programs that aim to make those with disabilities feel included. Community goodwill initiatives like visiting the sick, packing food baskets for charity, social gatherings and classes need not be tailored and labeled for individuals with special needs. Instead, the programs above are organically appropriate opportunities for inclusion. Most of all, resources need to be invested in awareness and understanding. While it is a blessed reality that takes inclusion for granted, the current situation neglects to truly see the population as individuals and offer them the opportunities and resources they need to reach their individual potential. Educational efforts can help communities make this essential shift in mindset to see those with disabilities not just as part of the chesed landscape but as individuals who, like everyone, have strengths and weaknesses, struggles and successes. The right messaging from leaders in our communities can have a trickle-down effect that can truly lead the way for the next step in disability awareness and inclusion.

Avi Ganz is the program director of the Elaine and Norm Brodsky Yeshivat Darkaynu, a division of Ohr Torah Stone, which offers a unique year-in-Israel program for young adults with special needs.