An Injustice in New Mexico

An Injustice in New Mexico

by Keith R. Murfee-DeConcini

We are taught from a very young age to always respect authority because that is what society expects us to do. In most cases, that is perfectly understandable and agreeable to do. However not in all cases.  I learned this in spades during my final year as an undergraduate and it was a devastating experience.

My college was small but excellent, known for its creative faculty in a southwestern town that attracts artists of all types. With my interest in creative writing and music, it was a good match for me and I thrived academically, often making the Dean’s list. I was elected cultural diversity officer which made me a part of student government, so naturally I was very active in helping the college promote a more diverse student body and in hiring more diverse teachers, including at the time, their first writing teacher with a disability. I also advocated in the Santa Fe community to help merge the financially struggling college with a much bigger university system, which led to my being appointed by the Governor to a special Task Force charged with saving the college. Further, I had obtained an internship with the city as an ADA Coordinator for the bus system.

My success socially, such as it was, left a lot to be desired. My disabilities were a part of that picture (including a speech impediment and a nonverbal learning disability which impacted my social skills) and the stigma because of these seemed ever present. I had a small select group of friends but a lot of others on campus were only acquaintances, just the “hello” types, no matter how much I tried to deepen those connections, especially with most women.

Late one night in the middle of my final summer, I was on a popular social networking site, playing around, and I sent a slightly risqué message to a few female friends, including a fellow student who had just started a full-time job at the college. I then went to bed, having not giving my message a second thought.

Upon awakening the next day, I realized my error in judgment and sent apology messages around to my friends. Some agreed my email was inappropriate, some ignored it, and one recognized it as a joke and made a similar joke back. The young female employee, however, forwarded the message onto her boss, who in turn forward it to his boss, an ultra-authoritarian woman, who for the purposes of this paper shall be called Judy. Before the college’s merger with a much bigger university system, Judy had been the director of Treo, the college’s disability services program, mandated by the federal government. Naturally being the director of the program, she was well-versed in my disability profile; she also oversaw my work with a mentor. Although we did not always see eye-to-eye, up until this point we maintained a friendly, professional relationship. Now, she had been promoted to a position similar to a dean of students.

Judy was notified by John, her employee, of my error with Ashley. John was told to bring me in for a talk. But it was not a talk; decisions had already been made. John claimed that Ashley felt sexually harassed and so, despite my attempts to apologize, they were going to officially charge me, saying that the email message was sent through official college channels, even though that was not true, it was sent through a 3^rd party website --- and to several other people other than Ashley as well. The meeting with John felt like entrapment. Nothing I said mattered and I was not allowed to have my mentor (who was no longer employed by the college) as my advocate. Despite all this, while further “investigations” were pending, every position I had with the college was taken away. I was isolated, prevented from participating in anything but classes.

My dad, who was in the midst of a medical procedure back East, flew-in to New Mexico and mounted a passionate defense, with the help of my mentor. The college refused to reconsider their extremely harsh ruling, silencing their own professional ADA advocate in the process, banning her from speaking to me or my family.

My family saw that the situation was getting out of hand and would only get more unfair, so we decided to hire a lawyer; and the newly-christened university did the same. Looking back, I can see that the email message I sent was in poor taste certainly, but it did not even come close to matching the definition of sexual harassment in the student handbook. So it quickly became clear that this was like a “railroading” situation, though we could not understand why. It felt like they just wanted me “gone” and they did not care what they had to do to achieve this hideous objective.

 Of course, I was not taking any of this well at all. I was emotionally deeply distraught, also angry, could not sleep --- well, it was awful.  I could not face the painful reality that the college I loved, that I helped to save, was doing everything possible to demonize me in this process. My lawyer appealed the ruling by the university; and I received a number of letters of support from local politicians (including the Mayor); from friends, including one who received the email message; and my doctors, especially those who understood my disabilities and the role they may have played in my poor social judgments. Everyone who sent letters of support on my behalf (except for the Mayor) were women.

Still, despite this outstanding show of support, it did nothing to persuade the university to reverse their ruling, at least at first. They seemed to have little interest in my record of support and achievement. They also did not care that they willfully trampled the employment section of the ADA (since I was a college employee, front desk manager at the fitness center) or any other section relating to fair and equal treatment for students with disabilities from institutions that receive federal money.  Finally, after many excruciatingly painful months, they dropped all charges.

In the end, though, in some ways they won, because of the deep psychological pain inflicted upon me, which required months of healing aided by doctors, therapists and treatment programs. I felt stigmatized, because of my social skills, because of my disabilities, because I’m different, because of who I am. It seemed surreal:  one small lapse in judgment, a 3-sentence rather tame email, and Judy, drunk with the power of her new position, wanting to make an example out of me, I guess. The lesson I learned is that basically people with disabilities cannot make mistakes at all --- and if they do, they are persecuted, with no second chances allowed.

Meanwhile, I had to go through one of the darkest periods of my life.

The man who would become president of the university, I had met long before this incident. He told me one time that if anyone hassled or abused me because of my disabilities, then I was to come to him directly. I tried to contact him --- and he never responded. So his promise of support turned out to be very hollow.

This situation is one reason why I decided to explore the area of disability studies, to perhaps gain some understanding of why things like this happen. This sort of abuse of power by authority figures has happened for far too long to all kinds of people, especially those with disabilities. The time to curb these offences or completely eradicate them is long overdue. Revenge never solves anything and in almost all cases is self-destructive.  However, I wish there was more justice possible in this; though the charges were dropped, the college still inflicted pain and there is no way to make them pay for that. I believe that people must be taught about differences and how to respect them; and to understand that all humans can make mistakes. Sometimes those people are people of authority.