Counting

From the second night of Passover until the day before the holiday of Shavuot, Jews engage in the mitzvah of counting the omer (Sefirat HaOmer). This period of time is meant to be one of spiritual growth: We Jews are looking inward, evaluating our actions and thoughts, and determining what can we do better.

I confess I have not personally counted the omer in many years, but my father, children and grandchildren do, so I often hear “time to count the omer,” and “did you count the omer today?” I also receive several daily reminders in my inbox of what day of the omer it is.

So even though I don’t personally count the omer, I can’t ignore that we are in that reflective time period. And I have been reflecting—specifically about that word “count.”

This year, something about that word has been nagging at me. When something nibbles at my brain, I get curious. So as I often do, I looked up the word “count” in the dictionary even though of course I know the definition.

It turns out that there are several definitions: The noun “count” refers to a European nobleman. As a verb, the word means “to take into account or include; be significant.” Aha! I thought. This is what has been nibbling at my brain.

“To take into account; to be significant; include.”

As a woman who is disabled, I often find it difficult to feel “counted” according to these three definitions. In truth I often feel that I don’t count. When websites are not accessible to me, when people direct questions about me to my companion instead of to me, when conversations about diversity don’t include disability, and when I see meetings webinars, panels etc. about disability issues that don’t invite disabled people and their voices of lived experience to the table—that is when I feel that I don’t count.

That is when I feel not included, that my life experience isn’t significant.

As a demographic, the disabled community is the largest minority. Our numbers do count—significantly.  We count. And we want to be counted where it matters—at the tables of power and influence, in conversations about diversity, equity and inclusion. We want to count when employers are making hiring considerations. We want to be included as the significant members of the community that we are.

As a demographic, the disabled community is the largest minority. Our numbers do count—significantly.  We count.

If we are really committed to creating communities that are diverse, equitable, just, and inclusive, then disabled people must be taken into account. Our voices must be considered significant and necessary—not just to understand the issues and problems, but also to find solutions that work for everyone.

To accomplish this requires a shift in mindset; it requires us to address our implied biases about people with disabilities. It requires us to think of access not only in terms of physical access to spaces, but also regarding websites and other means of communication. People with disabilities need to feel invited, welcomed, included. Diverse, just communities require not just that people with disabilities be counted, but also that we are made to feel that our voices, opinions, and lived experience matter. We count.

How can we accomplish this? Wherever and whenever there are conversations about disability issues, policies, and programs, disabled voices need to be heard and counted. This must happen in every sector of the community, in every space, in every area of human interaction.

Counting the omer is a time of reflection and introspection as individuals and as a community. My call to action is that we all look inward and reflect on ways to make sure that disabled people count, are taken into account, included and considered significant contributing members of a welcoming, diverse society.

Looking inward in this way will enable us all to move outward and forward—toward a diverse and inclusive community that benefits all of us.

Michelle Friedman is the board chair of Keshet in Chicago, a member of Disability Lead, author, speaker and disability rights advocate.