The story made headlines: a school in Senise, Basilicata, distributed year-end class photos that excluded a girl with Down syndrome—at least, she was absent from the version sent home to families. The implication seemed clear: the school had deliberately kept her out to spare other parents any discomfort. When the girl's family received their own copy—a supposedly defective print—she was in it. The assumption of deliberate discrimination spread fast.
What struck me was the prejudgment in reverse. Everyone seemed convinced, without hesitation, that this was an obvious case of calculated cruelty. I think the teachers' explanation is probably just the mundane truth. A thoughtless decision. Hard to believe, honestly, that a girl with Down syndrome would pose any real problem for her classmates or their families in 2011.
I know what such a child brings to a classroom: warmth, affection, joy. Now the damage is done. That little girl risks becoming the object of awkward pity, treated with exaggerated care, wrapped in bureaucratic caution. And now the rush has begun—photogenic mothers leading the way—to celebrate the "beauty" of children with Down syndrome.
I agree with the sentiment. Children with Down syndrome are lovely and kind. But so what? Are we really saying that disability becomes acceptable only if it meets some aesthetic standard? Has our society internalized the cult of beauty so completely that we can't help but apply it even when we're trying to reject it? Disability—in other cases—can involve real physical deformity, harshness, things that are hard to look at. What then? The real challenge is to see the person. Always. Their identity. Their dignity. Otherwise we are all of us the ones doing the discriminating.
Franco Bomprezzi (from Vita, October 14, 2011)