Lessons, Not Lights, Needed at the Fernald

All towns have a history of which they are proud and a history they wish to erase or otherwise ignore. Sunday, I heard about the impending battle for human rights that is taking place in my hometown. Although many people in and around Waltham may not see it as a battle, it highlights the ugly shadow side of the city that shape me in so many ways. What some might see as a simple escape of Covid drudgery, seeing holiday light safely encapsulated in one's car, goes far beyond a pleasure of today and fails to honor the horror of the grounds on which these lights will be strung. To the disabled community, the Fernald, named for a father of Eugenics, is sacred ground filled with lessons we cannot ignore and must heal.

This year, we have regionally seen Plymouth striving to heal the toxicity that surrounds its settlement and the Thanksgiving narrative. We have been called to be an ally to the members of the Black Lives Matter community that demands racial equity and respect for black and brown bodies across this country. Now, Waltham must go beyond its pride in civics and history to recognize the complex role it played in denying people of health or yes, wealth impairments the life of dignity they deserve.

From Middlesex County, Met State, McLean, to the Fernald, up until the mid-20th-century people were tortured by these facilitates and blocked from access to love. I remember the aura of grief, fear, anxiety, and sadness that permeated the area when I played soccer on Fernald fields and noticed the haunted looks of people that occasionally watched. I remember how I felt hearing local stories about what happened, and then how quickly we dissociated and gave the equivalent of "thoughts and prayers." Just as we have been implored to confront the toxicity of colonialism and systemic racism, we must now bravely address the inhumane treatment of disabled individuals throughout history in this country.

For anyone who is neuroatypical or chronically ill or someone who loves or advocates anyone like this, a person in one of these facilities could have been yourself or your loved one. Instead of a light show, we should be finding ways to reconciling these atrocities and creating a museum and memorial to the disabled or undesirable Americans that were brutalized and tortured in this otherwise bucolic (and yes, Waltham was once bucolic) piece of Massachusetts. Instead of ignoring or bulldozing our complicated past, we must lean into the discomfort to learn and
improve society in order to create a more perfect union filled with liberty and justice for all.

Waltham resident 1985-2013. Class of: Banks Elementary ('93), South Middle ('95) , & WHS ('99).