New film highlights legacy of disability rights pioneer Judy Heumann

Judy Heumann is widely recognized as the mother of the disability rights movement, yet she remains less famous than many of her contemporaries in civil rights history. A new documentary titled Being Heumann, directed by Oscar winner Sian Heder, aims to change that perception by detailing the life of the Brooklyn native who led efforts to secure the nation's first civil rights protections for people with disabilities.

Before the Americans with Disabilities Act was passed in 1990, the legal foundation for these rights was Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973. This single sentence in the law promised fair employment and access to public life without discrimination. However, for several years, the federal government lacked specific regulations to enforce these protections until activists took direct action.

In the spring of 1977, a group of activists led by Heumann and Kitty Cone occupied the former Department of Health, Education, and Welfare building in San Francisco. They camped out for nearly a month, a duration that is widely considered the longest sit-in of a federal building in U.S. history. Their demands resulted in the passage of rules making Section 504 enforceable, which paved the way for accessibility in federally funded schools, libraries, and city buildings.

Former NPR correspondent Joe Shapiro, who was a friend of Heumann until her death in 2023, noted that she viewed disability as a tragedy only when society failed to provide necessary support. Heumann was motivated by the idea that future generations would view the ADA as a minimum standard rather than a limit. She loved the prospect of a new generation demanding even more from society.

The film opened in theaters this month and is now streaming on Apple TV. NPR spoke with members of the so-called ADA generation about Heumann's legacy and current threats to the movement. Kaleigh Brendle, who is blind and has other disabilities, founded an organization called Judy's League to counter efforts by the Trump administration to roll back Section 504 protections.

Last month, a federal judge agreed to remove mentions of integration from Section 504 regulations, erasing language that Heumann and her movement helped secure five decades ago. Brendle described watching the film as a mixed experience. She felt sad that similar battles are being fought today, knowing Heumann would be hurt to see her work at risk, but the film also strengthened her resolve.

During a watch party with four other members of Judy's League, the group discussed the film's impact. Liam Holland, 25, said the opening chant of Sign 504 gave him chills, as his organization was founded to fight for that exact law. Cricket Bidleman, 27, noted that while history seemed to be repeating itself, the group's previous success gave them confidence they could succeed again.

Ellana Crew, 30, was struck by the realistic portrayal of disabled people on screen, including their laughter and romantic lives, which are rarely depicted in media. She observed that the attitudes of pity and charity shown in the 1970s still feel very relevant today. Bidleman added that while technology has improved access, discrimination remains largely unchanged.

The activists also reflected on how the legacy of 1977 shapes their daily lives. Holland explained that every curb cut he navigates in his wheelchair is directly tied to the mandate for public access won by the sit-in. For him, Heumann represents independence and normalcy. Brendle argued that society should accommodate disabilities just as it would for a temporary injury like a broken arm.

Leigh White, 30, emphasized that disabled individuals are the largest minority group in the United States, crossing all genders and races. He stated that fighting for these rights raises the standard for everyone. The group agreed that while they are currently facing challenges from multiple directions, appreciating the work of past activists allows them to carry the torch for future generations.