Lindsay’s story, written by Léa Hirschfeld.
Vermont, 2017. Photo by Léa Hirschfeld
A couple years ago, I saw a Facebook post about a camp in America. It looked like the most joyful and amazing place. They represented all kinds of people with unique needs – which I knew nothing about at the time.
After a difficult breakup, I needed some joy, so I reached out to Zeno and booked my tickets to Burlington, Vermont. That fast. My journey began with misplaced luggage and a stop at Walmart to buy all the basic stuff. When I turned up to the camp with my two plastic bags, I was shown to my treehouse – because we get to live in treehouses there. People were clearing their drawers to make some space for me, asking me questions about who I was, what I was doing, where I was living - it was something out of a movie.
The word was spreading that it was prom night, but I had no party clothes... Little did I know, there was a costume room, or more like a gigantic costume department, with almost anything one could dream of. I picked a green dress and all kinds of accessories. When I arrived at the party, I realized how many people were at camp, and I had no idea how to get to know anyone. Someone grabbed my hand: it was Anton, the French guy. Sadly, he was not loyal to me – I should have known, the Frenchmen have a reputation with the girls. We danced, he kept on leaving, looking around, coming back. Luckily, I was the new one, so everybody wanted to dance with me. I remember noticing how everybody danced differently; nobody tried to impress anybody: we were dancing for the joy of dancing. I think the only time I had done that before was on my own. I felt so loved, and so wanted, and so comfortable. We had the most freeing dance party in the entire world.
On the next day, we were all watching the American Woman’s soccer game on a big screen. Anton and I were sitting on the couch, holding hands, and I tried to speak French to him, but he did not respond, he just ignored me. Within a couple of days, the hand holding turned into chanting, and then a little bit more into arm wrestling, and those were the ways in which he was connecting. Paradoxically, this guy - who was so small and tensed when one on one - was the first one to get up in the middle of dinner to organize all kinds of parties, chanting, crawling, getting people going. He found ways to interact with whoever he wanted to interact with. By the end of the two weeks, I spoke French to him and he responded in English. I thought it was so funny, it was as if he was being polite to me. He was transitioning to this other world too, but, you know...
One night, the whole camp went out to an outdoor concert. We were on the bus coming back, it was dark, and I was thinking of everything that had happened to me, my break up, the need to get away, and I was quietly crying, thinking that no one could see me. Next to me was Sean, who kept sneaking worried glances at me; I didn’t want to upset him so I tried to calm down, but he put his arm around me and started petting my head, which made me cry even more. It is difficult for Sean to have a full-on conversation, but his perception of what he had to do at that moment was just perfection. Bang on. I will remember it for a long time.
It is very easy to assume that people with unique needs are at one level. But they are not. All the different types of disabilities are very unique, and a lot of what they experience, we experience too, like relationships, falling in love, arguing with somebody, feeling a situation is unfair, not being able to do something.
I had conversations at camp I wouldn’t have with my own friends - like sex for example. How to engage safely in sex, what it means, whether you should or shouldn’t be doing it, the parents’ attitude towards them having sex.
At camp, everyone is treated as an individual with their own thoughts and feelings and ability to make decisions.
“Dignity of risk” is when somebody who doesn’t suffer from any types of challenges can decide to take their own risks and decide for themselves: what I want to do, when I want to do it. For most of these guys, legal guardians control their environment: they don’t have the possibility to make these decisions for themselves, whether they are twenty, or thirty-five, or fifty. At camp, we have conversations about exploring risks.
Some people there have relationships that last fifteen, twenty summers. It happens for a month, and then everybody goes back to their home or their group home, relationships are paused for a year, and picked up right where they were left. And there are kisses, some people make out. And it’s normal. It’s everyone. We all have relationships. We all do that. I got to camp and I was like “Oh hi! You look very nice”.
We always watch sunset after dinner. I was hanging out with Gabe whose favorite spot is the swings. They are right at the top of a little hill and offer the most delightful view of Vermont’s mountains, with a glimpse of lake Louise. He is a slow walker, pretty much non-verbal, loves hugging - and swings. Adama, who is opposite to Gabe – she was running and screaming “DON’T GO ON THE SWINGS, YOU’RE GOING TO DIE” - was coming with us. Gabe hopped on a swing, I hopped on the other one, Adama was still yelling at us, and he started going SO high. I wanted to get off to be there in case anything happened to him and decided to take a jump off the moving swing. Misjudged that one. I flew off, down the little hill, accompanied by the sound of “YOU’RE GOING TO DIIIIIE”. There I was, completely disoriented, not knowing whether to laugh or not, and as I lifted my head, I saw Gabe laughing ecstatically at me. I had never seen him laugh before. The whole scene was punctuated by Otto who had decided he would be a robot for the evening. He had a laundry box on top of his head, sat on my swing and started talking to himself. And I thought, this is the most joyful place on earth. And Adama was right.
What makes it amazing is the lack of worrying as a whole. You cannot prepare for everything, you have to go with what is in front of you. People who are engaged with the present enjoy the little things. I learned that through all the unnoticed things that are noticed by people with special abilities, like Adama tapping me on the shoulder and telling me “there’s a butterfly, look, look, it’s a butterfly”. People just don’t get how perceptive they are, even when in their own worlds. Maybe since the language can’t always develop, other senses develop. I envy that a lot. Noticing. Being empathetic. I will try and become more like that. It makes you a nicer person. There is a way for everyone to get involved, whether they struggle physically or with communication. There is a way.
This camp values every bit of personality present to make it pop out and give it value. It’s magical. It’s how life should be as a whole. It’s how we should be to each other all of the time: appreciate people for what they are.
Getting involved in helping people wash, go to bed, eat, get dressed - the hands-on stuff - didn’t bother me. I did have to ask “how do you wash someone else’s scrotum? I don’t have one!” – it’s unusual, you know. But it wasn’t an issue. The thing I struggled with most was fixations, I think. Some have fixations like loving the letter C and give lists of words they love with the letter C. I love that, and I could engage with it. But some others are focused on being with someone to the point that an entire day can be oriented on being at the same place as that person, which means they miss out on other things that are going on. We all have targets, and when I think of myself as a teen, I don’t think I was a whole lot different... There were people I wanted to be around, people I thought about, people I wrote poetry about. The difference was that I was more aware of what was appropriate outwardly - internally was probably the same. You go to camp, you have this concentrated period, this one chance, crazy scenario, where you get to be with these people 24/7. It’s like “I’m going to get to look at this person again”. When I talk about it to a friend discretely, “appropriately”, some people do not know how to.
One day, I was hanging with someone who had a serious crush and who relied on me physically. It was very challenging because I wanted to be engaged with everything that was going on and I was being pulled away from that and I resented that. Everything had been so much fun up until that point. I had forgotten that I was also here to help in whatever way was needed. And I gave myself a kick in the ass to make the best out of this time, for both of us. The truth is, they are considered lucky to be able to socialize, to hang out, because most people who are not autonomous simply do not hang out.
There’s this guy, Bebo, whom I really wanted to get to know. I had figured out how to get around with some of his friends but I simply couldn’t get him to speak to me. He would just walk away and be like “Uh...”. When I finally understood he liked musicals, I tried that - I was in CATS, so I had some notions. After ten days of failed attempts, we finally connected. Before that, he’d just look at me like “Girl, no”. I was so annoyed.
With a lot of people, it was about learning the way to connect and engage by putting away my own uncomfortableness. I felt awkward because I was trying to communicate in ways that I am used to communicating and it just wasn’t working. When I got rid of myself in those interactions, it worked much better, it clicked.
Everyone at Zeno is open about what they want, what they like, what they need; there is a prudishness about that when discussed in the world. One morning, someone looked like they were having a good time under covers, so I looked at the person with a “dude, nope” look, got a “woops, sorry!” response and there it was. Happened, and forgotten. Social boundaries are sometimes simply not there, and it’s fine.
My first thought after going to camp was moving to Vermont. My life was up in the air and I thought “why not”. I did not want to make it my job, just to be closer. Things in my life shifted and I decided not to go, but I miss it all of the time. I went to Zeno summer camp, I went to Zeno ski camp, and when I finally looked around my home, I discovered Beacons Films, literally on my street. Beacons Films is THE film place for people with unique needs in England. I had to go all the way to the States and back to find what was on my doorstep. I started going around and helping, and I have come to realize that my life is less when this community is not in it. Less.
At Zeno, you live relationships the way they are supposed to work. You give into your relationships, you are truly generous, and people are the same way with you. We have chores there - I had to clean toilets with Alec, and he LOVED doing that, so it was incredible. Because of his enthusiasm, I loved cleaning the toilets with him.
Now we are on confinement, I have been receiving many messages from my Zeno friends. Even the ones I didn’t have the chance to properly interact with at camp. I think they send me more messages than my other friends. Some just say hi, others tell me about their workout plans, and others talk to me about love.
Vermont, 2019. Photo by Lindsay Gill