Ableism cannot be unlearned: My useless trauma to get a driving license
When disabled activist Graham Spero asked for a Quebec driving license, he was told that a medical visit was required. Can you imagine his confusion? I can — it was the same answer I received.
In Quebec, here is what you must do if you are a disabled person and want a driving license:
- Get a medical visit from a randomly selected doctor who will fill out a form to certify that you are disabled and what type of disability you have (e.g., physical or cognitive). The cost for me was 125 CAD.
- Even if the doctor has certified you with a physical (but not mental) disability, you still have to meet with an ergotherapist who will administer you a cognitive test to examine your mental capacity to drive. For those unfamiliar with the term, an ergotherapist is an expert in mobility and adaptations. In other words, they are the guys who check if an elderly has sufficient cognitive capacity to drive or what type of modification to the car would facilitate driving for a person with a physical disability. The cost was 200 CAD.
- Get your car modified as needed according to the indications of the ergotherapist.
- Meet with the same ergotherapist for a driving test to prove your physical ability to drive. The cost was 300 CAD.
- Get another driving test with an examiner of the SAAQ, the Quebec institution for driving licenses.
Costs aside, this process is filled with interminable waits to get the forms processed by some mysterious SAAQ office for disability. No one at any point gives you information on the entire process. You ask anyone, and no one gives you an answer on how a disabled person can get a driving license in this province. You start wondering if you are the only disabled person in Quebec. You start wondering if you are too unique or too weird to deserve a formal procedure to get a driving license.
I was so offended by the entire process that after I obtained my license, I wrote a formal letter of complaint to the Prime Minister of Quebec, the Minister of Transportations, and the President of the SAAQ. I wrote the letter in December 2020–1 year after I started the procedure. The letter was polite and detailed. I wrote it with the sincere belief that, once informed, someone would have cared enough to change the process immediately.
I also wrote to 4 different journals to tell them my story (La Presse, Le Devoir, Le Journal de Montréal, and Le Soleil). No one replied. I am not sufficiently famous for deserving their attention. Or maybe my story was not sufficiently tragic. Who cares about a case of discrimination against a common disabled person, after all?
To my greatest surprise, though, the SAAQ staff reacted to my letter. Various members of the SAAQ executive board contacted me via mail and over the phone. They thanked me wholeheartedly for sharing my experience and invited me to give a talk at one of their meetings. I prepared a presentation, talked for almost an hour, answered their questions. They were so nice and cheerful that I genuinely believed something would change — and quickly. I was so pleased with their overall response that I decided not to move forward with the media, happy that I simply did my part to improve the society of a tiny little bit.
Learning about Spero’s recent experience shook me. Did I make all that effort for nothing? My talk for the SAAQ was in February 2021. We are now in July. Nothing changed in the meantime? It is outrageous.
I am not sure I have to explain it but let me spell it out for the sake of clarity. Disabled people are not sick, so there is no need to see a doctor. People who have a physical disability do not also automatically have a cognitive impairment, so there is no need for a cognitive test. If a physical disability requires modifications to the car, a table describing the needed modifications for each disability is sufficient. If a table is too much effort to prepare, one meeting with an ergotherapist is enough to fill a form to describe the disability and whether modifications to the car are needed to drive.
Spero’s case was tragic and hilarious at the same time. He misses a portion of one hand. From what I learned about his story, he always drove in other Canadian provinces with no problems. Thus, his hand represents a disability but is not a limitation to drive. Tragically, the SAAQ staff failed to understand this difference. Ironically, if you watch the video of Spero’s conversation with the SAAQ staff, there is this lost-in-translation moment where you can see that they are talking of two different things. Disability = limitation in the mind of an abled person — but not in the mind of a disabled individual.
The nitty-gritty details of a bureaucratic procedure to get a driving license may seem too trivial or boring to appreciate their implications for human rights. Someone may even think that this is a problem specific to Quebec. But I argue instead that this type of situation well reflects a much common issue with abled people invalidating disabled people’s experience. This is the reflection of a society that thinks that disabled people have "limitations". That disabled people represent a particular case and are therefore not entitled to access services without the help of some specialist. That disabled people should be checked by doctors for anything. That they must be tested in their cognitive functions because you never know.
And unfortunately, given the little attention or results that my experience had, I start to think that ableism is impossible to unlearn. It is to the SAAQ and to the readers of this blog to prove me otherwise. Why am I the only one who feels outraged?
After knowing of Spero’s experience, I contacted the SAAQ executive board again. A few emails and a phone call later, things are still pending. I was informed that Spero’s procedure will be followed up and corrected. This is reassuring. However, I was left wondering whether the SAAQ staff sufficiently understood the gravity of their procedures independent of the accommodations they can make case by case. It is possible that I will interact again with the SAAQ offices to try and get things straight. Still, once again, I started doubting that ableism can be truly unlearned — especially without disabled people taking care of it. At this time, I do not know how things will evolve. I hope I will be able to update this blog when I get more answers.
Written in July 2021.
