Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Sotomayor, the Little Diabetic That Could?

My favorite thing to come of President Obama's selection of Judge Sonia Sotomayor has nothing to do with her gender or her race and how that will affect her decisionmaking. It has nothing to do with her compelling backstory or her own characterization of herself as "an ordinary person who has been blessed with extraordinary opportunities and experiences." Not even her Presidentially-donned title as the Savior of Baseball is what I most appreciate about Sotomayor. (By the way, thanks for that, Sonia! Without your decision, the Indians wouldn't have gone on to break my 12-year-old heart and lose to the Atlanta Braves in the 1995 World Series.) 

No. What I find most fascinating about the aftermath of Obama's selection of Sotomayor to take over for Justice David Souter is the question of how her status as a diabetic will shape her judicial outlook. Sotomayor suffers from type 1 diabetes, a disease which she has endured since she was 8 years old. During his introduction of Sotomayor, the President declared that Sotomayor's ascension to the Supreme Court, even in the face of diabetes, illustrates that "no dream is beyond reach in the United States of America." In fact, in response to the nomination, the American Diabetes Association [ADA] has found a new postergirl in Sotomayor, publicly applauding the President's selection.

For so many reasons, this bugs me. According to the ADA, 8% of the United States population is diabetic (among these 23 million Americans, my father). And though I understand that living with the disease creates is own unique obstacles, to equate it with such patriotic rhetoric, to act as though only by the grace of the great United States could someone with an insulin deficiency grow up to be something special, is absurd and, quite frankly, annoying. 

Surely, a potential Justice's health is fair game during the confirmation process and should play a role in the President's decision to nominate any candidate. The nature of a life appointment to the Court invariably means that the President has a right to expect a longevity of service. (Consider, for instance, that both of George W. Bush's nominees--Chief Justice John Roberts and Samuel Alito--were "youngsters" in their 50s, like Sotomayor, when confirmed.) To quote Jeffrey Toobin, "It would be irresponsible for any president not to make the health of the nominee a major subject of concern, because presidents want decades of service from their nominees."

But we all know that diabetes doesn't carry with it the death warrant that some of this discussion merits. R. Paul Robertson, MD, President of Medicine & Science for the ADA, has stated, "The advancements in the management of type 1 diabetes have been just amazing over the last two decades and the ability of people to manage their diabetes successfully has been proven. People with diabetes can function and live a long and healthy life." In its press release mentioned above, the ADA urges that her nomination be "evaluated based on [Sotomayor's] qualifications and years of experience -- and not her diabetes."

Obama has certainly made every effort to humanize Sotomayor, mentioning even before his selection that he wanted to place someone on the court with "life experience," someone who could bring a certain "empathy" to the law. One wonders if Obama is inadvertently smacking Sotomayor across the face by pushing her as the perpetual underdog; did she ever have a chance? [Woman? Strike One. Puerto Rican? Strike Two. Impoverished? Strike Three. Product of a Single-Parent Home...? Shouldn't she be out by now?]

The fact is, no one thinks that Sotomayor's diabetes was what pushed Sotomayor to achieve all that she has achieved. It wasn't her diabetes that sent her to the head of her class at Princeton, that made her editor of the law review at Yale, or that prompted a Republican president to appoint her to the district court. It seems like we're just searching for layers of discrimination to make her achievements look all the more impressive.

By no means am I suggesting that diabetics do not feel some sort of "stigma," as Roberston calls it. But what I am suggesting is that, unless someone discloses that she is diabetic, you most likely would never know, and it would not place limitations on a person's ability to achieve the "impossible." In fact, a classmate of Sotomayor says, "It never affected her in law school, not once." (It is true that "[s]ome jobs, like truck driver, surgeon and pilot, used to be off-limits to insulin-requiring diabetics, who could temporarily lose awareness of their surroundings if they were to allow their blood sugar to drop too much," but litigation in this area is changing the limitations for people in good control of their diabetes.)

More interestingly, perhaps, is this article printed in the Times of South Africa, which suggests that the conversation around diabetes is really just a tacit way of calling Sotomayor a big fat whale. The author states, "There is nothing in the job that requires a figure akin to that of fashion model Naomi Campbell, nor the endurance levels of Ethiopia’s long-distance runner, Haile Gebrselassie." What I think this article does miss, however, is the reasonable discussion about the measurable health of the nominee and whether there are legitimate concerns that a nominee's health could lead to a shorter period of service behind the bench. We're not asking for Tyra Banks on the high court (can you imagine?!?!), but it's not a crime to hope for the next John Paul Stevens.

In sum, I hope that we lay the diabetes discussion to rest. By asking whether or not it hinders a person's ability to perform simple job functions just perpetuates the stigma that the ADA is so fearful of. Professional athletes (including NFL quarterback Jay Culter, Olympic swimmer Gary Hall, Jr., and tennis royalty Billie Jean King), acclaimed performers (Halle Berry, Victor Garber, and Mary Tyler Moore), and well-known musicians (Mick Fleetwood, Nick Jonas, and Neil Young) have overcome diabetes. Sotomayor will make a fine Justice--but not because of, in spite of, or in lieu of her diabetes.

Why I Write

As a journalism student at New York University, I was frequently told that my writing style was just "not right" for print. I wrote about sensory experiences, first-person narratives that explored news-worthy issues as best as I could: through my own eyes, through my own words. To me, it seemed natural to include myself in my articles; I wanted the reader to see me not as a detached writer, but instead as a witness to everything I was typing. I felt readers deserved that credibility.

In an effort to get me to grasp what the problem was, a professor of mine whom I greatly admired channeled the one source she knew I could internalize: musical theatre. On the top of one assignment, she wrote in bold letters, "Sing IN, Louise," her clever alteration on the words that signal Mama Rose's entrance in the musical Gypsy. It was her way of telling me that I should not be the central figure in the story.

But the philosophy I have always subscribed to as a writer comes from another song from Gypsy: "Let Me Entertain You."

So here I am, having just finished my second year of law school, having lost my outlet as a writer. I want to recapture that sense of story-telling that I once felt as an undergraduate. I want to play with words again, and I want to do this as that eyewitness I always sought to be.

I have started this blog (and the obligatory Twitter account, at  http://www.twitter.com/joshuaza) as a forum for me to write about the things that I care about: sports, pop culture, literature, the law, and global political events. Rather than view each of these things in isolation, however, I have always been much more fascinated with how they interrelate and how each works to help individuals define themselves. I will use this blog to discuss the social ramifications of developments within these fields, to solicit ideas about policy, and to unabashedly disclose my biases. And hopefully each post will contain the sense of humor that I consider to be a personal trademark.

I will spend this summer as an intern at a New York City law firm, and while I accept that it will consume a bulk of my time, I hope to use this space also as a list of hard-learned fables, a cautionary tale providing due warning to other young lawyers. Learn from my mistakes, my friends.

And though I promise not to rely so heavily on showtunes--at least not Gypsy, for Pete's sake--in the future ("You Gotta Get a Gimmick"?), I close this first post with a gentle promise: Let me entertain you, and we'll have a real good time.