ancusmitis
Well-Known Member
From Disability Scoop
https://www.disabilityscoop.com/2015/11/19/for-disabilities-intimate-rare/21401/
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MINNEAPOLIS – Near sunset, Rachel Larson grabbed Nicholas Hamilton by the hand and pulled him down a steep embankment below a graffiti-covered bridge.
With late-summer mosquitoes buzzing around them, the two giggled and caressed each other, their voices muffled by the rush of a nearby stream and the traffic above.
“It’s our secret hideaway,” said Rachel, 21, who has Down syndrome, as she snuggled with Nicholas, 24, who has a developmental disability. “Here, no one can see us, and we are free to do whatever we want.”
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For people with disabilities like Rachel and Nicholas, such freedom to be intimate is rare. Adults with disabilities complain of having to overcome constant hurdles to engage in romantic activity and sustain loving relationships. The obstacles include arbitrary curfews, lack of transportation and segregated housing that cuts them off from mainstream social life and opportunities to date. Often, the barriers are imposed by group home operators that place safety above intimacy.
In the isolating confines of Minnesota’s more than 4,500 group homes, true intimacy can be impossible. To go on a date, adult residents generally have to obtain permission in advance, then go out under the watchful eyes of paid staff. More ambitious requests – such as spending the night in bed with a partner – can trigger a long sequence of meetings and consultations.
The physical and legal barriers are sometimes reinforced by the widely held perception that people with disabilities are “asexual,” or are too helpless to consent to intimacy, advocates say.
“We are denying people (with disabilities) a fundamental part of being human – the right to have intimacy and connectedness,” said Nancy Fitzsimons, a professor of social work at Minnesota State University, Mankato. “We do this because it makes us uncomfortable, without ever asking what’s right for them.”
“How do you go to a committee of people and say, ‘I want some alone time with my significant other,’ or, ‘I want to have sex’?”
Ninety minutes.
That’s all Bradley Duncan is permitted for “alone time” with the woman he fell in love with nearly a year ago.
Ninety minutes to talk, cuddle and get intimate in bed. Ninety minutes to watch their favorite wrestler, John Cena, on television.
The clock starts to tick the moment Duncan shuts the bedroom door of his room at a Fergus Falls, Minn., group home.
“They set their watches and say, ‘Your time starts now,’?” said Duncan, who is 46 and has a cognitive disability. “Now, if it’s 11:30 (a.m.), that means I’ve got until 5 minutes to 1 p.m., before they start knocking on the door, saying my time is up. It’s not much time.”
Duncan said he met his sweetheart, who is 41 and has a developmental disability, while they were sitting at opposite computer terminals at the local library. Captivated by her long blonde hair and dark eyes, Duncan introduced himself. “I said, ‘Hi, I’m Brad and I’m single,’?” he said. The woman, whom he declined to identify, first insisted that she was engaged, then reluctantly agreed to go out with him, Duncan said.
Their first date was a visit to the Minnesota Twins winter caravan in Fergus Falls. Over hamburgers and fries, they discussed their mutual fondness for baseball, professional wrestling and books.
“She seemed really high-strung at first,” Duncan said, pointing to a framed photo of the couple on his dresser. “But she has this great personality. We’re a wonderful match.”
But as their relationship grew, so did the rules.
To be taken on a date, Duncan had to notify his group home staff at least 24 hours ahead of time. Gradually, he built enough trust with his girlfriend’s legal guardian, who oversees her care, so the couple could visit each other at their group homes. Most days, however, Duncan’s group home lacked the staff to drive him to her house; so he would walk the winding, 1 1/2-mile route on his own.
Now, after nearly a year of supervised visits, Duncan said he is building up courage to ask permission for an overnight stay alone with his friend. But that will require another complicated round of negotiations. He suspects the answer will be “No.” Fear of rejection has kept him from making the formal request.
“I love her,” Duncan said. “But if I ask for an overnight, I’m worried that I’m going to come off as some creep, as some guy who just thinks with his pants. What are they going to think?”
Asked why a night alone with his friend is so important, Duncan shot back: “You have someone, right? Right? Well, I want that. I want to wake up in the morning and have someone there by my side and feel happy – just like everyone else.”
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End of part 1. Note that I object to the use of the term "friend" for what is clearly a romantic relationship. I find it quite hard to believe neurotypical lovers would be called "friends."
https://www.disabilityscoop.com/2015/11/19/for-disabilities-intimate-rare/21401/
Facebook Twitter Google+ LinkedIn Pinterest Email
MINNEAPOLIS – Near sunset, Rachel Larson grabbed Nicholas Hamilton by the hand and pulled him down a steep embankment below a graffiti-covered bridge.
With late-summer mosquitoes buzzing around them, the two giggled and caressed each other, their voices muffled by the rush of a nearby stream and the traffic above.
“It’s our secret hideaway,” said Rachel, 21, who has Down syndrome, as she snuggled with Nicholas, 24, who has a developmental disability. “Here, no one can see us, and we are free to do whatever we want.”
Advertisement - Continue Reading Below
For people with disabilities like Rachel and Nicholas, such freedom to be intimate is rare. Adults with disabilities complain of having to overcome constant hurdles to engage in romantic activity and sustain loving relationships. The obstacles include arbitrary curfews, lack of transportation and segregated housing that cuts them off from mainstream social life and opportunities to date. Often, the barriers are imposed by group home operators that place safety above intimacy.
In the isolating confines of Minnesota’s more than 4,500 group homes, true intimacy can be impossible. To go on a date, adult residents generally have to obtain permission in advance, then go out under the watchful eyes of paid staff. More ambitious requests – such as spending the night in bed with a partner – can trigger a long sequence of meetings and consultations.
The physical and legal barriers are sometimes reinforced by the widely held perception that people with disabilities are “asexual,” or are too helpless to consent to intimacy, advocates say.
“We are denying people (with disabilities) a fundamental part of being human – the right to have intimacy and connectedness,” said Nancy Fitzsimons, a professor of social work at Minnesota State University, Mankato. “We do this because it makes us uncomfortable, without ever asking what’s right for them.”
“How do you go to a committee of people and say, ‘I want some alone time with my significant other,’ or, ‘I want to have sex’?”
Ninety minutes.
That’s all Bradley Duncan is permitted for “alone time” with the woman he fell in love with nearly a year ago.
Ninety minutes to talk, cuddle and get intimate in bed. Ninety minutes to watch their favorite wrestler, John Cena, on television.
The clock starts to tick the moment Duncan shuts the bedroom door of his room at a Fergus Falls, Minn., group home.
“They set their watches and say, ‘Your time starts now,’?” said Duncan, who is 46 and has a cognitive disability. “Now, if it’s 11:30 (a.m.), that means I’ve got until 5 minutes to 1 p.m., before they start knocking on the door, saying my time is up. It’s not much time.”
Duncan said he met his sweetheart, who is 41 and has a developmental disability, while they were sitting at opposite computer terminals at the local library. Captivated by her long blonde hair and dark eyes, Duncan introduced himself. “I said, ‘Hi, I’m Brad and I’m single,’?” he said. The woman, whom he declined to identify, first insisted that she was engaged, then reluctantly agreed to go out with him, Duncan said.
Their first date was a visit to the Minnesota Twins winter caravan in Fergus Falls. Over hamburgers and fries, they discussed their mutual fondness for baseball, professional wrestling and books.
“She seemed really high-strung at first,” Duncan said, pointing to a framed photo of the couple on his dresser. “But she has this great personality. We’re a wonderful match.”
But as their relationship grew, so did the rules.
To be taken on a date, Duncan had to notify his group home staff at least 24 hours ahead of time. Gradually, he built enough trust with his girlfriend’s legal guardian, who oversees her care, so the couple could visit each other at their group homes. Most days, however, Duncan’s group home lacked the staff to drive him to her house; so he would walk the winding, 1 1/2-mile route on his own.
Now, after nearly a year of supervised visits, Duncan said he is building up courage to ask permission for an overnight stay alone with his friend. But that will require another complicated round of negotiations. He suspects the answer will be “No.” Fear of rejection has kept him from making the formal request.
“I love her,” Duncan said. “But if I ask for an overnight, I’m worried that I’m going to come off as some creep, as some guy who just thinks with his pants. What are they going to think?”
Asked why a night alone with his friend is so important, Duncan shot back: “You have someone, right? Right? Well, I want that. I want to wake up in the morning and have someone there by my side and feel happy – just like everyone else.”
Please enter a message with no more than 10000 characters.
End of part 1. Note that I object to the use of the term "friend" for what is clearly a romantic relationship. I find it quite hard to believe neurotypical lovers would be called "friends."