Learning Disability Awareness Week always gives me pause. Not because I need reminding — Jen has made sure of that for the last 44 years — but because it creates a moment in the calendar where the world asks us to stop, if only briefly, to ask some important questions. This year’s theme: Do you See me. Do you Hear me. Do you Value me. feels more urgent than ever.

As part of the week, I had the privilege of sitting down with Anna Park, a remarkable advocate who has spent decades working alongside people with learning disabilities in music, dance, sensory work and so much more.  T-J who has worked with us for a couple of years now, brought us together, and what followed was one of those conversations that surprised even me in how much ground it covered.

We talked about visibility. About the old model of care — people sitting looking at bubble tubes, having experiences done to them, with no sense of control, choice or voice. About how far we’ve come, and how far we still have to go.

Anna Park on Learning Disability Week

We talked about Jen, of course. About the 10 years we spent turning over stones trying to find training that could meet her needs, only to come up empty-handed again and again. About why we eventually stopped looking and started building  DanceSyndrome in 2009. And about what happened when Jen took to the stage in Tampa Bay earlier in the year, and some conference feedback that described her as “the seismic moment” of the event.

But the part of the conversation I keep returning to is something Anna said about assumptions. About the way we use the words “they” and “them” when talking about people with learning disabilities — as if they are a single, homogeneous group rather than a collection of entirely unique human beings, each with their own history, personality, passions and gifts. Every time we say “they,” we create distance. We other. We stop seeing the person in front of us and start seeing a category.

Jen has never let us get away with that. Her phrase — I have the right to a life of my choosing. My future lies in dance — was not a request. It was a statement of fact, delivered with the kind of clarity that I, to my shame, initially doubted. I wondered if she’d grow out of it. I was wrong. Watching her lead her first workshop was the moment I understood: when you truly listen, when you let someone show you who they are and what they can do, the possible becomes the actual.

Anna also told a story that reminds us all that we have what it takes to create change. A chance encounter in a park with a mother and her daughter, who has Down’s syndrome. The mother flinched when Anna approached, braced for judgement or discomfort. What followed was a 15-minute conversation that, as Anna put it, transformed her day, and we hope the Mother and daughter’s too. No training required. No special skills. Just the willingness to cross the road.

That is, I think, the heart of this year’s theme. Seeing, hearing and valuing people with learning disabilities isn’t something that belongs only to professionals, advocates or families. It’s something all of us can do, in the ordinary moments of ordinary days — if we choose to.

We have so much to learn from people with learning disabilities. Their authenticity. Their directness. Their refusal to perform a version of themselves for the benefit of others. As Anna and I both reflected, when you watch someone like Jen dance, you are seeing the whole person — no protective layers, no agenda. Just someone fully and completely themselves. Most of us have forgotten how to do that.

The full conversation is available to watch here:

Whatever your experience of learning disability — whether you live it, work with it, or are simply curious — I hope you can take a moment to stop and ask: when did I last truly see someone?

I look forward to hearing your takeaways from the week that asked “Do you see me, do you hear me, do you value me?”

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DanceSyndrome is a pioneering, multi-award-winning charity that enables people with learning disabilities to lead, develop and contribute as active citizens. It ignites change in communities, pioneers professional development, and delivers transformational programmes that prove what becomes possible when everyone is seen as having something to offer. People with learning disabilities don’t just participate in DanceSyndrome. They lead it.

DanceSyndrome.co.uk