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An Introductory, Intersectional Analysis of Disability in the Context of Race, Gender, and Education Amid the American Democratic Backslide

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Introduction:

In the 21st century, disabled people in the United States face the dangerous intersection of a backsliding democracy and discriminatory medical system. As reported by Science News in October of 2024, the commonly used metric called “Varieties of Democracy” (V-Dem) shows a steady decline during the first Trump administration, indicating a democratic backslide [1]. As defined by the JASON Institute for Peace and Security Studies, “democratic backsliding is a political change in which a democratic country becomes significantly less democratic” wherein democracy refers to social, economic, medical, and political equality [2]. During the Biden administration, the United States’ V-Dem score increased but did not fully recover to pre-Trump levels. In the wake of the second Trump presidency, women, children, and Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC) must prepare for a diminishing of their legal rights and protections as a result of Donald Trump’s executive orders and mandates. In the United States where disability, economics, race, immigration, education, and gender are intrinsically linked, more people will become disabled by or experience increased difficulties in accessing care amid the second Trump administration as a result of mass deportations, authorization of police raids on former safe spaces, and cutbacks to health program funds.

 

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A Model of Disability in Relation to Race, Gender, and Education:

It is a well documented fact that BIPOC are more likely to be disabled than their white counterparts, including as a direct result of actions by medical professionals. In the United States, Black and Hispanic middle aged adults are almost 10 percent more likely to be disabled than their white counterparts [3]. Considering this statistic alone, disability in America can be determined to be inherently racialized, a pattern that can be further connected to economic and educational trends [4]. Because Black and Hispanic people are less likely to earn as much as their white counterparts or obtain a Bachelor’s degree, they are also less likely to be able to independently afford healthcare or have access to jobs with decent healthcare plans [4]. In addition, when attempting to seek medical assistance for existing conditions, racial minorities are more likely to receive a poorer standard of care than their white counterparts. In a study comparing Black and white diabetic Medicare beneficiaries, Black Americans were significantly more likely to receive amputations (leading to permanent disability) when compared to white Americans who were significantly more likely to receive lower-extremity arterial revascularization (preventing permanent disability) [5]. Similarly, a study found that Hispanic patients with bone fractures were twice as likely as non-Hispanics with equivalent injuries to receive no pain medication [5]. Additionally, several studies spanning a decade concluded that treatment of end stage renal disease is particularly poor for Black and Native Americans. Compared to white Americans, Black and Native Americans are simultaneously less likely to receive a transplant, less likely to be added to a transplant waitlist, spend a longer period of time on waitlists if added, and are more likely to suffer transplant failure [5]. It is clear, then, that the medical sector both undervalues and underserves BIPOC, leading to higher rates of disability with poorer care.

 

Adding an additional level of identity politics to the healthcare system in America are the gendered and racialized care disparities wherein women are more likely to be disabled than men and BIPOC women routinely receive lesser care when compared to white women. In terms of sheer numbers, women across all demographics are almost twice as likely to report severe disability and about one and a half times as likely to report moderate disability when compared to their male counterparts [6, 7]. When analysing literature on breast cancer, mastectomies, and preeclampsia, a disturbing picture of women’s health conditions begins to emerge, splitting down racial lines. In a study of roughly 223,000 female patients who received oncologically necessary mastectomies, it was found that white patients are far more likely to receive partial mastectomies than their Black, Hispanic, American Indian/Alaska Native, or Asian/Pacific Islander counterparts who are more likely to receive simple or radical mastectomies [8]. Given that simple or radical mastectomies are associated with longer procedure times, higher rates of medical complications, longer recovery time, and/or readmission after surgery, this racialized correlation is critical to note as it relates to disability. Similarly, another study linked race and mortality rate in patients with preeclampsia, finding that Black, Hispanic, and Asian/Pacific Islander patients were more likely to die as a result of their condition than White patients [9]. As further proof of the racialization and sexism of disability and care in America, a study found that while higher income is associated with improved odds for patients with preeclampsia, high-income Black patients were still more likely to suffer from heart, kidney, and blood clot disorders when compared with low-income White patients [9]. Even in the hyper-capitalist modern America, money alone can not protect disabled BIPOC from discrimination. Disability, therefore, should be framed not just as a medical condition, but also as a product of socialization and culture.

 

Education in America is a frequent topic of disability discourse and children necessitate a special mention in the analysis of disability in America as a result of Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 (colloquially Section 504 or simply 504), the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), and Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA). Section 504 prevents discrimination against people with disabilities in all programs that receive federal funding whereas the ADA outlines what disability is as well as stipulating that certain reasonable accommodations must be made for disabled people [10, 11]. The IDEA, in comparison, specifically addresses the matter of education and guarantees that all children with disabilities have access to a “free appropriate public education” [12]. While teachers and administrators can not diagnose students with a disability, they play an important part in the diagnosis pathway. Often, a classroom observation of academic, emotional, or developmental struggles is the first step to a disabled child receiving a diagnosis from a licensed clinician, individualized support, and/or accommodations via an Individualized Education Plan or 504 Plan [13, 14]. Because public schools in the United States are required to report, test, diagnose, and accommodate disabled children, access to education is instrumental in developing a disabled person’s identity and mitigating the negative social, academic, and medical effects associated with disability.

 

The lived experience of a disabled person in America can be constructed to encompass both the medical and social models of disability. An individual in America is more likely to be disabled if they are non-white and/or non-male even when adjusting for income disparities. Early access to schools with the resources to diagnose and treat (or otherwise accommodate) disabled students may prevent long term damage to a disabled child’s future. While higher income may improve the odds of a member of the disabled BIPOC community, money alone is unable to entirely mitigate the racism and ableism entrenched in the American medical system.

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Donald Trump’s Actions as They Relate to Disabled People:

Using the socio-medical model of disability in America, focus can shift to Donald Trump’s personal and presidential actions that have increased the burden of disability by targeting BIPOC, women, and children. When analyzing the connection between race, disability, and deportation, it must first be realized that public formerly designated “safe” spaces such as churches, schools, and hospitals are no longer considered off limits to Immigrations and Customs Enforcement (ICE) or Customs and Border Protection (CBP) enforcement officers per Trump orders [15]. While certain areas such as operating rooms and classrooms may still be considered private spaces and require a permit for ICE or CBP officials to enter, the fear of deportation is already having a widespread, negative impact. People are avoiding these formerly protected spaces, a concerning trend when recalling that schools and doctors’ offices are a necessity in the prevention, diagnosis, and treatment of disabling conditions [16]. 

 

With regards to the actual deportation process itself, the conditions are inhumane and disproportionately impact already vulnerable groups. In one day in January of 2025, an NBC News report found that ICE arrested nearly 1,200 people with only half considered criminal arrests [17]. Politically progressive, BIPOC heavy cities such as Chicago, New York City, Los Angeles, Denver, Miami, and Atlanta are among the top targets for ICE raids with the justification that these operations are necessary to stop an invasion into the United States [17, 18]. After these raids, migrants are often sent to temporary holding facilities in countries such as Panama and Costa Rica [19]. If deportees are unable to go back to their native country, they exist in political limbo, living in temporary detainment camps or kept under close guard in barricaded hotels [20, 21]. The camps themselves are inherently disabling with reports describing disease, fires, and malnutrition [22]. To make matters more difficult, relief agencies are struggling to provide adequate care to these deportees due (at least in part) to Trump’s freeze on United States international aid funds [21].
When considering the demographics of the deportees and the intersection of race and gender with disability, it becomes clear that disabled people are disproportionately harmed by Donald Trump’s newer wave of mass deportations. Among a flight of 135 deportees to Costa Rica, 65 were children, 1 was elderly, and 2 were pregnant, making over half of the group particularly vulnerable to disability or necessitating specialized care [20]. For this study, age was not considered in the variables of analysis due to the increasingly public and evidence-based understanding that age positively correlates with rates of disability [7]. It should also be noted here, that the symptoms and medical conditions associated with pregnancy, can be considered a form of temporary and/or acquired disability, as normal bodily functions are impeded and accommodations for these conditions may be legally required [23]. Moreover, when examining immigration and deportation in the United States through an intersectional lens, Donald Trump’s actions can be determined to be both racist and ableist. In another example of Trump’s negative impact on disabled people in the United States, Trump’s actions towards and comments about Haitians brings to light a troubling history. Both during and outside of his presidential terms, Donald Trump has revealed his anti-black sentiments through commentary on Haiti being a “shithole” and of Haitians eating American pets [24, 25]. Given that Haiti’s 95% Black population is currently in the midst of a massive humanitarian crisis, making disability care nearly impossible while simultaneously increasing rates of disability, Donald Trump’s end to temporary protected status (TPS) and calls for mass Haitian deportations must again be interpreted as ableist [26]. Given that disability service centers (i.e. schools and hospitals) in America are now able to be policed by ICE and CBP, ending TPS for Haitians means that many disabled people will inevitably be hurt by the avoidance of these locations. Furthermore, the act of deportation can be deduced to be doubly detrimental due to the lack of availability of resources in Haiti and the cruelties of the deportation process itself.

 

Furthering Trump’s attack on disabled people is his funding cuts to medical research and federal health departments. Medical research and federal funding of health programs is inherently necessary to the wellbeing of disabled people. While cutting National Institute of Health (NIH), Center for Disease Control (CDC), Department of Health and Human Services (DHHS), and Food and Drug Administration (FDA) would have been dangerous in the best of circumstances, but is infinitely more so in the context of the Covid-19 pandemic and American opioid crisis when disability care is more important than ever [27]. At Johns Hopkins alone, roughly 600 projects and clinical trials involving cancer, pediatric care, vascular care, and brain health are at risk of being abandoned or delayed due to grant slashes [28]. In his quest to cut costs and prevent the growth of diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) efforts across the country, Donald Trump has reduced funding specifically for projects headed by disabled people or relating to disability [29]. As an underrepresented or marginalized population, projects with a disability aspect were historically allotted specialized grants under DEI efforts, but many of these funding sources have now been pulled. Research projects headed by or relating to BIPOC and women were also heavily funded by and benefitted from these DEI labeled grants as underrepresented and/or underserved populations. Cutting these specific grants, therefore, only compounds the issue of disability research as disability also correlates with being non-white and non-male.

 

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Conclusion

As a result of Donald Trump’s first and second presidential terms, America has experienced a democratic backslide that disproportionately impacts BIPOC and women who are also more likely to be disabled than their white, male counterparts. Disability is an intrinsically intersectional identity that is influenced by factors such as education, gender, race, immigration status, and economics. Funding cuts, ending DEI initiatives, and harsher immigration policies are just some of the ways in which disabled people are directly or indirectly harmed by the Trump administration.

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