I was summoned to jury duty last week.

I typed in the website listed on the small notecard during my lunch break because multi-tasking is my jam.

So while on hold with my insurance company, appealing a medication denial for Isla, I was e-chatting with Verizon about my upcoming upgrade and filling out the questionnaire for jury duty.

Name
Occupation
Employer

As I got further down the list of questions I knew exemptions were coming. Because I have little kiddos and because I am the caregiver to my Isla, I knew I would be exempt.

It was just a matter of time before the question would appear.

Then, there it was.

My stomach turned sour in such an immediate, involuntary visceral reaction as I stared at the screen in disbelief.

I blinked hard. Surely, I’m reading that wrong.

Nope. It’s still there.

#4 on the list.

“I am the primary caregiver of a person who is an invalid.”

I could hear the Verizon bot pinging and pinging eager to wreck my monthly budget.

The insurance lady finally picks up and I hear, “Hello? Hello? Hello?”

I hung up.

A strong time-warp sucked me back to the office where the doctor used the word “mentally retarded” over and over again when talking about my curly haired beauty in the corner playing with blocks.

Is this for real? An invalid? Like a noun?

I let myself fall down a dark rabbit hole of Google.

Is invalid a legal term?
Is invalid a medical term?
Definition of invalid in relation to a person.
Is invalid an acceptable term by the disability community?

An invalid. Invalid.

Definition (adj) not valid.
Definition (noun) a person made weak or disabled by illness or injury

Across the English, French, German, Spanish, and Italian languages the common understanding of invalid is “without value”.

This matters because we use language to understand and socially navigate the world. One of the primary ways we use language is to identify things. To identify people. When we hear or read a label we immediately attach a social norm and rules that will guide us in interacting with that label. So a chair. We know you sit on a chair. Nobody would see a chair and try to eat it or play catch with it. We know that because our brains have been trained by society on what to do with a chair and what purpose it serves. We also know a chair is valuable, because it serves a purpose. We need chairs.

You tell me. When you hear that a person is an “invalid”… what do you think of? What has society taught you about interacting with an “invalid”? What purpose has society taught you that an “invalid” serves? What value do you think an “invalid” carries?

Exactly.

Isla is my daughter. She is a human being who I birthed.

She came from me.

She is part of me and just happens to have disabilities.

She has a name and a life and a laugh.

Even with severe disabilities, nothing about my girl is invalid.

This is not about an overly sensitive momma who cares about PC words.

This is about stigma. This is about hurt and isolation and prejudice. This is about how labeling someone can have profound social and psychological power.

How can we expect society to cultivate a culture of compassion, inclusion in schools, kindness on the playground, equal opportunities in the workplace if even our most fundamental government institutions do not consider our children human or valuable with the language used on legal documents?

We have to do better than this. We need to keep updating the language we use especially when it comes to labels that originated out of sheer ignorance and yet continue to have devastating impacts on our most vulnerable populations.

You know the saddest most sickening part of all this?

I checked the box.

It was the only option.

Isla, forgive me. I had to check the box.

There is only one way to make this right …

CHANGE THE LANGUAGE.

Any other option is INVALID.