A core value of victim advocacy is using a victim-centered approach, including seeing hidden issues and disabilities. In short, we meet them where they are and give them what we can. But what does it mean to “meet them where they are?” Let’s suppose a victim walks in and simply asks for resources for food banks. It turns out her husband only allows her to spend $100 per week on groceries. But she can’t feed five people with that little. In that case, we give her food bank information.
We may politely offer some documents offering education about domestic violence. Or we may even ask to set an appointment to see where else we could help. Regardless, we remain victim-centered and offer the victim what’s needed. Further, we do not expect the person to meet us at OUR place of understanding. We meet victims where they are and wait until they ask for more.
We know how to do this well with trauma. But do we know how to do this with disabilities? Mental health professionals across the world aim to work hand-in-hand with survivors of a variety of traumas. It’s done to gain understanding and to build coping skills and strategies. Also, it creates better relationships with themselves in forgiveness, acceptance, and knowledge.
But what if it’s not trauma? What if it is a disability? Let’s suppose their disability makes them more vulnerable? And what if they have never gotten diagnosed or supported? Disabilities range far and wide and most are not visible. According to the CDC, approximately 61 million adults in America live with a disability. Moreover, many of those are considered considered hidden or invisible.
What is a hidden disability?
According to the Invisible Disability Project, “An ‘invisible,’ ‘non-visible,’ ‘hidden,’ ‘non-apparent,’ or ‘unseen’ disability is any physical, mental, or emotional impairment that goes largely unnoticed. An invisible disability can include, but is not limited to: cognitive impairment and brain injury; the autism spectrum; chronic illnesses like multiple sclerosis, chronic fatigue, chronic pain, and fibromyalgia; d/Deaf and/or hard of hearing; blindness and/or low vision; anxiety, depression, PTSD, and many more. We understand the body as always changing, so disability and chronic illness may be unstable or periodic throughout one’s life.”
Thus, it’s imperative we take the idea of meeting survivors where they are, even more seriously. Here are two potential scenarios:
Case Sample A:
A survivor calls for assistance in obtaining a restraining order. I give her the contact information for Project Safeguard and Rocky Mountain Victim Law Center. In the process, I explain what they do. She sounds hesitant about calling and seems confused.
Examples of what I might now know:
Can she read and write? Can she operate technology comfortably? Does she process verbal instructions slower? Is written preferred for the victim? Perhaps she needs clearer instructions since she’s overwhelmed by what I’m providing ? Can she fill in areas I assumed she knows? For instance, would the victim know the times to call or how to leave a proper message with contact information? Does she have experience with systems and asking for help? Does calling a number she doesn’t know create anxiety for her? Are her communication skills strong enough to advocate for her needs once she gets hold of someone?
What I can do:
I can validate any overwhelming feelings of the victim. Further, I can ask if she has any confusion about what I’ve said. I can ask if there’s a better way for me to give her the information. Can I email it so she can read it over privately and take her time? Should I mail her a letter with the information in it? Can I call on three-way and help her get the process started at one of the agencies? Can she come in and I can sit with her when she calls? I can keep asking questions until she sounds confident in the process. Of course, all the while I do it ensuring I don’t shame her for her needs.
Case Sample B:
A survivor living in the shelter where I work comes back from a meeting with her caseworker. The victim says, “DHS just wants to take my kids. They say I can’t keep them safe.”
Examples of what I might now know:
I think, what was said at that meeting? What did internalize? How does she process information provided verbally vs written? Could there be hidden disabilities? What are her expressive language skills and what could she process? I consider what her treatment plan may be when it’s time. I reflect on why a caseworker would indicate the potential removal of her children from her care? What processes took place before today? What are her organizational skills like? How much information can she process at one time? What’s her ability is to delineate extraneous information from key information?
What I can do:
Listen. Take notes. Ask her to sign a release of information so I can gain a better understanding of her situation and needs, as well as advocate to DHS about how well she is doing. I could call the caseworker and ask what happened. I could ask what she needs help doing. Further, I could work with DHS to help obtain those resources. I could find out who else is on her team and determine the services they provide? How can I support that as her advocate?
What is the takeaway from this? We don’t know what we don’t know. These are two possible scenarios out of thousands of possibilities. So, we can never assume that anyone with whom we communicate understands the same as us. But we could do some things to ease persons with hidden disabilities.
We could validate their experience, ask questions and collaborating with others. Doing so allows us to create a safer, caring, more supportive place for all survivors—including those with hidden disabilities.
