An equity-driven change to our hiring process exposes how dehumanizing it can feel to need help, revealing ties to a closely-held American value
Peggy was being groomed to be an executive director at a California nonprofit before she moved to Oregon to be closer to family. Little did she know, a few years later, illness would force her into early retirement.
Peggy was working as an employment specialist for Goodwill, where she matched people with jobs. “Oh, God, I loved it,” Peggy reminisces. “Every time somebody got a job, I’d celebrate.”
One day while on the job, Peggy woke up to find herself in the hospital. “I remember waking up and wondering, ‘How did I get in the hospital?’ The last thing I remembered was being at my desk.”
The seizures ended the career she loved so much. “I tried a couple of other jobs, but I just couldn’t handle it – even on a temp basis. My body said, “You want to do what? Nooo….I’ll just knock out on you.”
Last year, our equity work challenged us to rethink our hiring process. Inviting members to participate in our interviews and influencing who we hire is a small step towards sharing power with those we serve.
Maybelle member and resident, Peggy, poses for a photo at our annual Holiday Party with Sabrina, staff at Macdonald Residence.
Peggy, what was it like to participate in the interview committee for our new Development Director?
“I was honored that I was asked to be part of the committee. It felt like I was back in the thick of things and that I was a person again,” reflects Peggy. “I felt useful. I don’t know how else to say it. I felt very useful, and that made me feel more like a person.” – Peggy, Member & resident
“I was honored that I was asked to be part of the committee. It felt like I was back in the thick of things and that I was a person again,” reflects Peggy. “I felt useful. I don’t know how else to say it. I felt very useful, and that made me feel more like a person.” – Peggy, Member & resident
Maybelle Center first met Peggy when she was living in an income-restricted apartment in our neighborhood, and volunteers began to visit.
Peggy’s health continued to decline, and having worked in social service agencies, Peggy knew the importance of finding a quality assisted-living facility – something that can be challenging with limited income.
“So I started talking to visitors, students, nurses, and anyone that had a Maybelle Center nametag on,” recalls Peggy. “I’d ask: ‘So what do you think of Macdonald Residence’? ‘Would you put your mom there?’ ‘Would you live there?’
“When I caught my apartment on fire,” Peggy recalls. “I knew it was definitely time to move. I was trying to make chicken and dumplings, and it didn’t quite work out – I got charcoal instead.”
Peggy’s thorough vetting of Macdonald Residence gave her confidence in the quality of care. But she couldn’t anticipate how dehumanizing it would feel to need help:
“When I needed assisted living, I had to give up a lot of the independence I used to have, become dependent, and learn how to ask for help. I’m not really good at that,” Peggy explains.
“When I fell in the shower, I was like, ‘Okay, I need to ask for help with a shower or other personal needs.’ That’s embarrassing – really embarrassing. It makes you feel not like a person anymore – more like a child. And that’s hard.”
A nagging thought lingers: Why does Peggy feel like less than a person when she’s not serving on the committee?
Most of us will need assistance as our health declines with age. Why can it still feel shameful?
The American value of rugged independence is so deeply rooted, it operates undetected. Shortly after birth, we begin praising children for meeting developmental milestones like walking, talking, and using the toilet.
And the virtuousness of independence extends through adulthood in the way we talk about people viewed as “dependent” – adult kids still living in their parents’ basement, people receiving food stamps, or even residents in assisted living like Peggy. Independence is a rite-of-passage into adulthood. What happens when the process reverses?
Because we’ve internalized the value, we often transmit an unconscious condescension through our gaze or tone of voice:
“When people treat me like a kid, I want to say, ‘I’m not a little kid. I’m a grown woman. I have a brain. I had a good job at one time,’ recounts Peggy. “People seem to think you are nothing. They look at you as if you’ve been on assistance for your whole life. Or that you’ve spent your entire life on the street until this agency came and scooped you up and saved you. And that’s not the case – they make assumptions.”
With 3 in 5 adults in our country reporting they’re lonely,1 maybe it’s time we lift the hood of this endured value. We assume the opposite of independence is dependence – if you’re not independent, you must be dependent.
What if it’s not all or nothing? What if the opposite of independence is not dependency but interdependence? Then we could finally acknowledge that needing help in one area doesn’t mean we’re dependent in all areas of our life.
Peggy’s nonprofit background, employment expertise, and intuitive sense of people gave her unique insights into finding a candidate who would be the right fit for our organization. Peggy was an invaluable part of our interview committee. And Peggy needs help with self-care, like many of us will.
We shouldn’t feel embarrassed. People need people – it’s in our DNA.
Maybelle member and resident, Peggy, at Wildwood, our annual excursion to the mountain. Longer outings like these provide opportunities to grow deeper connection while increasing access to natural spaces for members with mobility challenges.
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