Latavia Sturdivant and Luz Cantres
By Joan Lippert
The winter months are significant for us here at enCOMPASS. In January, we celebrate the life of activist Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and offer ourselves in a week of service. February is Black History Month, when we pay homage to persons of African descent who continue to overcome adversity to become fully acknowledged citizens in American society. March is Developmental Disabilities Awareness Month, which focuses on including people with disabilities in community life and shines a light on the barriers they still sometimes face. March is also Women’s History Month, when we commemorate and celebrate the role of women in America.
enCOMPASS had the privilege of speaking with two members of the Montefiore Einstein community who told us how they rose above.
Meet the Barrier Smashers
“When people see a wheelchair, they automatically think, ‘Oh, uneducated, can’t do anything for themselves, they’ll rely on people for the rest of their lives,’” says Bronx-born Latavia Sturdivant, 31. She was born with cerebral palsy, a motor disability more common in Black children than any other racial group. “And I’m an African American female, so that’s three strikes that I’ve had to contend with my whole life,” she says.
Also, a resident of the Bronx, Luz Cantres grew up in a home where mostly English was spoken and some Spanish too—her parents came from Puerto Rico. Luz, 41, was born with spina bifida, in which the spine and spinal cord form improperly. It is most common in babies of white or Hispanic origin. Luz also uses a wheelchair to get around.
Their life experiences molded them into the fearless advocates for people with disabilities that they are today.
The Earliest Insult
In school, Luz was placed in special education classes, a gross misjudgment of her capabilities. “It was assumed that if you had a physical disability, you also had cognitive or mental issues, developmental delays, or learning disabilities,” says Luz. She was bored in special ed and became disruptive. Latavia was placed in general education, but in middle school, staff began to view her as a burden because of her medical and physical limitations. She could not attend trips because the school claimed they couldn’t get a bus. As a result, Latavia—once an enthusiastic student—no longer wanted to go to school. “My mom saw my desire to learn dying inside me,” she says.
Luz Cantres
Latavia’s mom, Mary, threatened the school with a civil rights lawsuit and ultimately got Latavia transferred to the Henry Viscardi School for children with disabilities on Long Island. “I loved it!” says Latavia. “I received an authentic high school experience.”
As for Luz, a perceptive educator told her mom, “I think she could thrive in regular education courses.” Once Luz was mainstreamed, she did thrive.
Learning to Teach
Latavia went on to study speech pathology and audiology at CUNY Lehman and earned a master’s degree in that field from Columbia University. Today she is a speech therapist at a Bronx high school—“my favorite population,” she says—and an adjunct professor of speech and language pathology at Lehman College. “I’ve had speech therapy so I’ve been on both sides of the table,” she says.
“I honestly think that my disability gives me an advantage because I have a unique perspective on life,” says Latavia. Her physical therapist, Carol Terilli, PT, DPT, C/NDT, assistant professor of pediatrics (developmental medicine) at Einstein, invited Latavia to speak to medical students last year as part of the Department of Medicine Underrepresented in Medicine Visiting Medical Student Elective K619,course Navigating Care for Marginalized Patients, Populations & Providers. “I wanted people to not just see Latavia as a person with a disability who is a speech and language pathologist, but to understand who can be one and what they bring to the experience,” says Dr. Terilli, who is also assistant chief of physical therapy and coordinator of clinical education for physical therapists at the Rose F. Kennedy Children’s Evaluation and Rehabilitation Center of the Children’s Hospital at Montefiore. During the talk, the term intersectionality came up. It’s where gender, race, ethnicity, disability, physical appearance, and other factors meet to form a personal portrait that directs discrimination and privilege. Says Latavia, “I’ve always had to show people that I’m not a stereotype. I like pushing past barriers, and intersectionality has motivated me to do what I do.”
“I was really not encouraged to take my SATs or apply for college,” says Luz. “Everyone kept telling me, ‘No one's going to hire you.’” At college open house meetings, people would say it was too far or too expensive, “skating around what they meant, that someone like me couldn’t go there,” she says. Undaunted, Luz completed a medical office assistant program. More problems: “I couldn’t get an internship because the places said patients wouldn’t want someone in a wheelchair to do EKGs or phlebotomy work,” she says. Eventually she got a job but was given tasks beneath her capability.
She recounts other slights: “People have yelled at me, thinking I was deaf,” she says. “Or sometimes they lower themselves to my level versus talking to me from where they are—that's rude.” Today, however, Luz views those who mistreat her this way: “It's just that some people grew up in a time where individuals with disabilities were institutionalized. They weren't a part of society. You didn't see them. So, it was on me to teach people how to treat me and be kind.”
Gracious and tenacious, Luz and Latavia both moved up to the next level, for themselves and for others.
Learning to Advocate
“You learn how to advocate from watching your parents,” says Luz. She tells of doctor visits gone awry. “My parents took me to a clinic, and when we got there, we realized it wasn’t accessible,” she says. “Another time, there was no way to get onto the examining table because it didn’t go up and down. So, you were examined in your wheelchair, and how much of an examination is that?” Now she advocates for herself and calls ahead. “You ask, ‘Is it accessible?’ And don’t tell me there’s just one step. One step means ‘not accessible,’” she says.
Luz is a member of the Bronx Community Self-Advocacy Group, which meets in the Kennedy Center on the Einstein campus, and directs their weekly movie night and dinner. In the group, “We’ve talked about topics like nutrition, physical therapy, occupational therapy, and dental for a person in a wheelchair,” she says. They tackle harsher topics, too. “A lot of people had been attacked or sexually abused, so we had someone come and talk about that,” she says. Luz also is self-advocate faculty for Montefiore Einstein’s Leadership Education in Neurodevelopmental Disabilities (LEND) program; works for Concepts of Independence, which helps consumers hire their own personal assistant; and answers the Brooklyn Center for Independence of the Disabled's “warm line,” in Spanish as needed. “It’s like a hotline except that it’s not a crisis line,” she says. “People can call in just to talk.”
“My mom was my biggest inspiration,” says Latavia. “No matter what the doctors said I couldn’t do, my mom believed that I could and tried to make it possible. Parents forget that with all the services, their child’s condition can improve to where they can be functional.”
Now living in Yonkers, Latavia has postponed starting a Ph.D. to champion the Medicaid Parity Bill and recently led a rally in Albany. “I’m really, really strong on wanting to make change for myself and others,” she says. The bill would require Medicaid managed care organizations to reimburse providers the full cost of durable medical equipment rather than the current 30 to 40 percent. “For example, the company where I get my leg braces, which I can’t stand without, is in jeopardy of closing down because of Medicaid parity,” she says. Other companies stint on quality to cut costs. [Editor’s note: Latavia rescheduled our interview because she had tipped over in her wheelchair and hit her head; she blames defective casters on her chair. She is okay now.] Latavia still finds time to create her weekly podcast; search for “Queens on a Roll.”
Latavia and Luz are always ready to advocate about still-needed changes. “Some medical people feel that once we're no longer growing or they’ve done everything they can, there’s no need for physical therapy, occupational therapy, or activities to develop motor or cognitive skills,” says Luz. “‘You’ll never walk,’ they say. But why not keep my body and mind in great health and prevent weight gain, which leads to diabetes?” (She recently developed Type 2 diabetes.)
“I get tired of seeing services disappear,” adds Latavia. “As adults, we need more physiatrists, services, and physical therapy to help us maintain our current functioning. Without these services it is hard to remain a productive citizen of society.”
Inspiration Going Forward
No one can predict the future, but one thing is certain: Luz and Latavia will never stop talking about improving it. Mantras inspire them. Latavia, on her Facebook page: “I’m in competition with no 1 but me 2 be a better person today than I was yesterday.” Luz: “I might not be able to stand, but I don't have to because I get to stand out.”
Posted on: Friday, February 09, 2024