The disability rights movement has never lacked for female leadership. Think of Marilyn Saviola, Christina Curry, Eunice Fiorito, Anna Fay, Anne Emerman, or Sharon Shapiro, to name a few. To honor Women’s History Month this year, though, I’m going to focus on just two: May Darrach and Judy Heumann.
Judy Heumann, of course, is a renowned figure, with name recognition that extends well beyond the disability community. Towards the end of her career, in the 21st century, some people began referring to her as “the mother of the disability rights movement.” Almost completely forgotten, by contrast, is May Darrach, but she may deserve that title even more, because of her work more than a century ago.
Darrach was born in 1869 in New Jersey. At less than three years old, she was diagnosed with spinal tuberculosis and was unable to walk unaided until age thirteen. In 1899, at age 30, Darrach’s tuberculosis put her into the hospital. She emerged forever altered, charged with a mission to do something tangible for what she (and everyone else) then referred to as “crippled children.”
Darrach eventually catalyzed a whole movement. She ran her own settlement house, became a physician, and practiced medicine. And it all began after being released from the hospital, when Darrach supposedly wagered Charles Loring Brace, the head of the Children’s Aid Society, that there were hundreds of disabled children hidden away in the tenements, unreached by school, church, or any other outside influence. Darrach knew they were there—she’d shared hospital wards with them. But now she trudged up and down the Lower East Side and documented them. It was the first survey of disability in the general population.
She presented her findings to Children’s Aid and made her pitch. By the time the year was out, Darrach had begun the nation’s first educational program specifically for children with disabilities. Within another year or so, she had raised an endowment sufficient to found a combination school and shelter, the Darrach Settlement Home for Crippled Children, on West 69th Street. Soon she was running the settlement house, continuing her fundraising, giving lectures, pushing and prodding, all while practicing medicine in a fancy new building on Broadway.
Darrach was far too formidable to be overlooked. She must have been very, very good, because under her influence new charitable efforts arose in increasing numbers—an entire movement, in fact, targeted to disability in the general population, the first of its kind in the nation’s history.
To make all this happen, Darrach pushed herself unceasingly—past the point of no return. In 1910 her health broke down, and she was forced to retire. She passed away a few years later, at the age of 49, and soon was completely forgotten.
Our second leader was born nearly 80 years after Darrach, in 1947. Judy Heumann grew up in East Flatbush, Brooklyn. She contracted polio at 18 months old, went through special education and attended Camp Jened, one of the most generative sources for disability activists.
Heumann wanted to be a public school teacher. But the New York City Board of Education refused to give her a teaching license because she was unable to walk. They came right out and said so.
Heumann’s license rejection became a widespread controversy. The City’s newspapers weighed in on her side, and in 1970 she co-founded what later became known as Disabled in Action, the first truly militant disability rights group.
It’s easy to say that Heumann made a good symbol—she’d obviously been treated unfairly, and she was an extremely articulate, petite, hippie-looking young woman in a wheelchair. But she turned out to be one of the most talented and effective disability activists in American history, with an enduring career that included working with Ed Roberts, leading the nationwide fight for Section 504 regulations, and serving as advisor to several presidents. In fact, her disability activism had international reach, via the United Nations and other organizations. Heumann passed away in 2023, at the age of 75.
We’ve got two different leaders from two different eras, with different spheres of activism and very different levels of name recognition. What do they have in common?
For one thing, both women were raised in supportive and empowering families. Judy’s parents went to bat for her repeatedly during her childhood. They saw to it that she got a meaningful education, and that she actively socialized, not only with nondisabled kids at home in Brooklyn, but also with disabled kids at Camp Jened. Likewise, shortly after Darrach’s spinal diagnosis, Darrach’s father Samuel patented what he called a “wheeled crutch.” It was a prototypical walker, fitted with wheels and a head or chest extension, which allowed his daughter to stand and even ambulate, with minimal pressure or impact to her damaged spine. Not to be outdone, Darrach’s uncle Marshall devised the so-called “Darrach jacket” to help treat her scoliosis. The device remained in medical use for decades.
Darrach and Heumann differ enormously in the scope of their work and the length of their careers. Darrach’s work was entirely within the Greater New York area, and her career only lasted about a dozen years. Heumann’s career had global ramifications and ran for half a century. But in their eras, each of these women had formative impacts in disability activism and organizing. Both became role models—proof that people with disabilities could change the world.
The context may change, but the drive for liberation remains. This Women’s History Month, we salute Judy Heumann and May Darrach.
Visit DisabilityHistoryNYC.com for more of Warren Shaw’s work.