About Karen
. . . About Karen . . .
A personal interview video "BORN TO DANCE" by realhealth.TV
The Beginning
I was a Friday's baby, born March 9, 1951 to Rubin & Kate Hershkowitz; my birth name, Karen Hershkowitz. The heavens above place me among the best, I could not have asked for two more loving parents. They brought me home to a beautiful house that was filled with warmth, love and affection. However, at 5 months old, heartbreak hit our family again. Now, instead of my sister’s Rheumatoid Arthritis returning, or my father falling through the glass shower door, it was me. I was paralyzed due to a DPT shot. I fell into a deep coma, not to wake for 10 days. The doctors gave me a 30 % chance of life. Their medical diagnosis - severely delayed. But miraculously, I made almost complete recovery. My twisted face, straightened out, and I was left with left side hemiplegia, and a learning disability. But that was not found out until I was in second grade; life seemed to be a whole lot simpler than it is today.
It was a time where the air felt crisp and clear. A time where one felt safe leaving their doors unlocked and a time where people trusted one another more. I remember the times, when my neighbor's father sat outside on his front porch, pleasingly playing his banjo for not only his children but for all the neighbor's children. These are precious, unforgettable memories which I’ll never forget.
Sweeter yet, I remember having a puppy for a short while. One day, mom came home from doing errands. I was with grandma in the house. I heard mom's 52 Chevy pull into the driveway. As I looked out the front, closed, screen door, I noticed my mother walked around to the passenger door. She opened it, and out jumped a small, sweet puppy. It was a mix breed. Not more than 5 to 7 pounds, and was mocha, toffee color, with floppy ears. Her voice was so melodious, that we named her Melody. She was a tiny puppy, which our family loved for awhile; we took her everywhere we went. Even to my cousin’s house where she accompanied us up and down my cousin’s driveway, in the red racer wagon.
I also vividly remember how she loved to escape from the chain link fence. She would dig a hole, and every afternoon she’d be waiting to greet us on the front porch. Sadly, though, within a few months, mom gave her away because of my sister’s allergy.
Over the years, I have looked back on my life’s journey only to recall the bitter and sweet of it all. I recapture the sweet memories of my grandfather. And reflect upon his memory. One of the enduring treasures I remember of him was how he made my sister and me these wonderful automobile cars. All of my cousin’s would come over to my house, and play with us. We’d have a blast driving up and down the sidewalk and driveway. There was nothing I didn’t do or try to do. Even with a locked leg brace. My mother did not treat me any differently than my eldest sister.
I come from a very close knitted family. And when I got sick, my mother’s family was right by her side and mine. At the time, my mother did not drive a car. So with one arm holding me, and the other, dangling a purse and dipper bag by her side, my mother would tirelessly carry and take me to Children’s Hospital of Los Angeles on the bus. Mama Katie, as I affectionately called her, took the bus week after week, well over a year until my grandfather taught her to drive a stick shift. After which, she took me wherever I needed to go, while singing songs in the car, to pass the time joyously.
Some of the other unforgettable impressions I can sum up are of all the exercises I did when I was a child not more than 2 years old. This particular, nice therapist, worked with me unreservedly, at the time. I bring back one moment in time, when I was holding onto a bar, with my two hands. This bar was to straighten my left wrist. I would take a stick like broom, in both my little hands. Then the therapist would cup her hand over my left, where I would attempt to raise and lower the stick up in the air and straight down behind my back, only to lift it up across my chest and back down again. It was hard work, but I always did everything that was ever asked of me with a smile on my face. Never once did I complain or frown. Still, on another occasion, I can remember sitting on a table, with white sheets. This was for clinic at Children’s Hospital. I was their star attraction. I was only 18 months old. I was scared, nervous, and all alone without my mama by my side. I sat there, in my underwear, on display, being stared at by over a dozen men and women in white starched coats.
Never once did I murmur a word to my mother. Further yet, I can also remember the time my parents needed to take pictures of my spine. I was maybe 3 at the time. So Mom stood me in the front yard in my underwear. How humiliating that was for me. I will never ever forget that moment. Plus, I have the pictures which will never erase the image in my mind. I was gripping a toy in my hand, while my father snapped the pictures. I was very self conscious and totally aware of what was happening. However, I never uttered a word to a soul about my feelings.
I not only wore my full length, leg brace to bed every night for a long while, but I have indelible images of me crying my heart out going on the school bus, alone, to a handicap school, at the age of 3 years old. It was kindergarten. I was a timid, shy child, who was going to be held back if I didn’t begin to socialize and talk to others in class. Then, one day, that same year, my mother came across a dance studio in her travels. She inquired and soon, thereafter, I was taking tap lessons from Al Gilbert. He opened his heart unconditionally to me. No wonder I do what I do today. This kind, and most caring, and genuine, human being, not only taught me to hop, skip, jump and run, but, he taught me to dance!
Time went by, and I went from first grade to 4th grade. I not only was the Easter Seals poster child of 1957, but I had many different therapists. Some gentler then others! The memories are logged in my mind. It is a time stamp of my journey and path; a memoir of my account in school, with therapists, doctors, physiologists; struggling with a learning disability no one really understood.
Oh, how I remember my first dance recital, just like it was yesterday. It was a very important day for me. Not just because I was going to dance, but because I was going to dance with my teacher, Al Gilbert. I was going to be center stage with the' pied piper of dance'. How mind-blowing an experience this was for me! I would be sharing the stage with him and him alone. What an honor and feeling of pride this gave me. His gentle and unconditional nature helped me to have complete trusted in him. It was so easy to feel comfortable and safe, that I felt like I had wings! I felt like I could do anything he asked of me. I no longer felt trapped in this little body of mine. I would do anything he taught me or asked of me. I can remember my costume, too! Al picked it out for me, himself. It was a frilly purple, lavender and white dress. It made me feel like I was Ginger Rodgers, dancing in Fred Astaire’s arms! Al really made me feel like his little princess. I can remember looking into his brown eyes. Oh how empowered I felt.
A few years later, in the spring of 1957, I remember being asked to be the Easter Seals Poster Child. How surprised I was to be chosen amongst all the others. It was my first experience given the opportunity to shine before the world. As I look back on my life, I have many enduring memories. I can remember that day so clearly in my mind like it was yesterday! What a monumental experience that was for me. Today, when I think back on those moments, I can vividly remember the pretty velvet bow dress I wore, and how my mother primped and fussed over me. How special that was. How very special it was the way my mother made me feel. From the delicate curl in my pony tail, down to my shiny white polished high tops, my sweet mama made me feel like a living doll! Could you believe that I even had a fascination with the bunny? I thought it was real! Then, right after the photo shoot, I remember being presented with a Raggy-Ann doll. Oh how beautiful she was. This day was so awesome for me, that it has been marked in my mind forever. These memories have moved me beyond words. They were amazing and astonishing too! Something I will always treasure and cherish.
During the 60’s, many altering events shaped my life. I not only moved into a new home with my family, which I loved and adored, but I met new neighbors, and had new experiences. I also became very close with my girlfriend, Lily.
I spent countless hours taking swimming lessons, dance lessons, tutoring lesson, special education classes, and even tried to learn the piano for Al. Every spare, waking, moment, I had, I was doing some form of therapy. Including, going to Al’s on the spur of the moment. If he had a cancellation in his schedule, my mother would pick me up from school, and drive me over 20 miles to his studio where I was by his side, learning to shuffle ball change, plea, and bend my knee while hopping and skipping to music with my leg brace on. I even remember Al buying me some small cymbals, castanets, and the most beautiful ballet bar a little girl could ever have or dream of. One time, he came back from one of his many tours, with a book about a little girl who had week legs and became a ballet dancer. I can’t ever remember a time in my life when this man did not give me anything but his unconditional love.
Moreover, I can descriptively recollect the day I went to clinic. On that day, the sun was shining. I carried out my morning routine, and instead of going to school on the school bus, I drove to school. Once we arrived, my mother and I sat on the chairs right outside the PT room. A few minutes later I was called in, went behind the curtain to change, and began parading back and forth for the doctor and therapists watching. I sat down on the chair near his desk, to hear his new medical recommendations for me, and with out warning, he told me and my mother that I could hang up my brace forever. What a sweet, sweet moment that was for me, because all my hard work was paying off.
Despite these sweet recollections, I also remember some very traumatic and shocking experiences as well. I bring to mind the time I went to the beach with my girlfriend Lily, and her brother, where I almost drowned in the ocean. I recall being ostracized and not being accepted by the children at school, and I remember being bitten by a dog before I moved into my second new house, and waiting to hear from the SPCA to find out if I would need rabies shots.
On still another occasion, I can remember falling and breaking my front tooth, and while crossing the street, scaring my knees up pretty badly. This was because my leg brace locked on me.
The worst, though, was in the mid sixties, when we had to abruptly move out of our beautiful home. A chain link of events took place. In succession, my grandfather had a stroke, and 3 years later, in 1965, my cat not only got hurt and disappeared for good, but my grandfather died. Then, 6 months later, my father died of untreatable cancer. I was only fourteen years old too! But that was not the final blow. The final blow was in 1969. While working, I received a phone call from my mother. She brought me the news that my cousin had just died in the Vietnam War. I was only 17 years old.
Blossoming into adulthood, I began working as a sales girl in December 1969. I remember working at the White Front Department Store for Christmas help. Then my mother and I found out about California State Department of Rehabilitation. After my initial visits and a battery of tests, they labeled me borderline Mentally Retarded. Despite, what they said, I bravely walked forward. Then, by their strong suggestion, I began working in a workshop type atmosphere.
For well over 6 months, I folded boxes and used a ceiling wax machine. I did whatever was asked of me. Although, I knew instinctively, that this was not the place I wanted to spend the rest of my life. So I did everything that was asked of me.
One day at a time, I bravely walked through this experience. I quietly proved to them and myself that I was worth more. I also tried to prove to them that their tests were incorrect, and that I was not borderline mentally retarded.
So, after a summer of getting my thoughts and feelings together, at the age of 20, I got my third job as a sales girl. My mother's assertive manner helped me get this position and 6 months later, I was promoted to PBX switchboard operator. Even though I faced harsh judgment and ridicule from my working peers, I did the very best that I could. I went on to other PBX operator positions and learned from each experience that I had. No matter what others said of me, my hard work and self-determination paid off. Never did I stop working at the issues at hand.
It was an endless, uphill, journey to become the best person I could become. I worked in that field for many years until I found a government funded training program. I remember boldly speaking up for myself and asserting myself in a way I never did before. That was when this newfound boldness became an essential part of my being. They were so impressed by my daring and courageous behavior I was immediately accepted into their program. That was when they tested my interest and skills. Within a week, I began working with people in the mental health field as an assistant recreation director. I was very happy and felt like I had found my niche. For the first time in my life, I felt like I could incorporate my dance skills with the knowledge I was learning in this field of recreation.
Four months later, when I was 24, I decided to go back to the California State Department of Rehabilitation to seek help for my college education. I wanted to pursue a degree in the field of recreation. I felt that this was a reasonable goal, especially considering my learning disability. Once again, the discrimination started. It was a tireless, incessant, never-ending battle to explain my needs, wants, and desires to a group of people and an organization who were supposed to be there for those who have impairments and disabilities. All I wanted was to be like any other person in society. I knew that some day my mother would be gone and I was going to have to fend for myself. I knew instinctively that I would have to make my own way in this world.
With little respect or dignity given to me, the State Department of Rehabilitation once again talked down to me in a disrespectful, belittling fashion, and insisted I take another IQ test. What was so disturbing was the fact that these IQ test are not accurate in detecting or measuring any kind of a learning disability what so ever. So, once again, I willingly smiled and took the test. However, inwardly, I was fuming. I was at my ropes end. I was no longer going to be treated in a manner in which California State Department of Rehabilitation deceitfully, sneakily, and cleverly led me to believe. I had rights, and I was going to use those rights! I was going to succeed in life! Unfortunately, no matter how clearly and articulately I tried to explain myself, they just would not listen to my reasoning. That was when I had enough! I was not going to stand for this kind of degradation ever again.
I found myself taking on the biggest challenge of my adult life. Because of the treatment, the labeling, and the discrimination lay before me; I remember hitting the lowest of my lows. I remember phone call after phone call, letter after letter, trying to get some kind of help to stop the discrimination I was going through. I was getting no where and in my gut, I knew I had to do something. Hence, I took matters into my own hands. I began taking all kinds of steps and actions.
I wrote President Jimmy Carter. And I, Karen Lynn Hershkowitz was going to put a stop to this discrimination finally. That was in the middle seventies. During the next 4 years, I worked very hard to get this matter resolved. During the same period of time, I got a job as a recreation director in a convalescent hospital. I gave to others and fulfilled their needs. I gave of myself unconditionally to all the clients and people I worked with.
Sadly, though, I later found out that my immediate boss stabbed me in the back by what he told California State Department of Rehabilitation. I was beginning to see how unfair and unjust people could really be. Especially how one person could manipulate the system for personal gains?
However, at the time, I did not know that I was about to become a pioneer or leader in the disabled rights movement. I did not know that no other disabled person before me had attempted to take on the system and be assertive in their civil rights. I had no other course or choice but to fight the good fight! I had to take the bull by its horns and conquer this challenge before me. I had to survive and make a place for myself in this world and in society when no one else would help me.
Thus, I sought out legal advice to bring legal suit against the State Department of California Rehabilitation. This was the first Civil Rights Case ever under section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act, of 1973, and in 1979, I proudly and joyfully won my case.
I have many memories before and after that are bittersweet! Mostly, I am overwhelmed, and taken aback by what all I have accomplished. Not just for myself, but for all those that came after me. All I did was try to help myself! I tried to stop the depredating effects of being called Mentally Retarded, and not being given the same rights as a so called “Normal Person.” I am most self-affected by this experience, and will never ever stop advocating for the rights of disabled people and those with special needs.
This decree, allowed me to start my education in junior college and attain the goal of my dreams in 1980. OCR, (The Office of Civil Rights) found the California Department of Rehabilitation in direct violation. They unjustly violated me and my civil right to obtain an education because of my learning disability. Now in college 3 years, and upon suggestion from my mentor, I entered my short children's story into a writing contest. For around a month, I spent countless hours writing this composition, thinking little of what was to come. To my astonishment, I won second place in the Kaleidoscope Literary Arts Magazine, International Prose fiction Art award contest. Time passed, and I continued my studies in college. I worked very hard and then, in 1985, I unpretentiously gradated with honors. I earned my Associate of Arts degree. However, that did not stop the discrimination from continuing...
After graduation, I was subjected to even more hurt, pain and disappointment, as I never was able to go on with my education and attain my Bachelors or Masters Degree in Dance, as I had planned. My educational climb was put on the burner. For a third and final time, I was being labeled and scrutinized again by the Department Of Rehabilitation. Once again, I was wrongfully labeled. Only this time, I was unable to find anyone, including Office of Civil Rights, to back and support me and serve as my advocate. All my records were sealed and no lawyer, in the state of California would aid me in my quest, nor would they make easier the path before me to move forward. I had absolutely no support or help to improve my situation further. However, I vowed to myself that this experience would never tarnish my attitude and my personal beliefs.
As unfair as it was, this experience made me fight even more for my life. I never gave up hope, nor did I give into any of their negative beliefs. I never stooped to their level by giving up on my dreams. My self-worth and self esteem soared. My determination grew and so did my assertive attitude. My efforts paid off, and were never in vain. A few months later I picked myself up from this experience, dusted myself off, and moved on with my life. I began working at a very well known organization for individuals with Cerebral Palsy. Prior to this date I worked for this well-known organization a few other times, of which will remain nameless. I not only taught dance, recreation and independent living skills, but I also worked as a team leader with them to develop innovate programs for their clients. I continued working there until I was verbally abused and belittled by my superiors and my disability and personhood was at stake. Having had this experience before, I sought out legal help and with much distortion and misrepresentation on my lawyer’s advice, I settled out of court. I kept on keeping on, no matter what was said of, and to, me.
Despite all I’ve gone through, I am proud to say that I have accomplished many of my goals. I became an aerobic teacher and throughout the years continue to teach others with and without physical challenges. I have had the pleasure of sitting on The Client Services Committee for clients with developmental disabilities. In 2002, I had the honor of sitting on the Executive Board of Protection & Advocacy Inc.. My story,The Broken Hoof has been published by Publish America for almost 2 years now, and I am sharing my story with others. Since the year 2000, I have addressed many audiences. I have traveled over three thousand miles to lecture to students at Kern University, VSA ARTS, realhealth TV, KNBC News, the Los Angeles Unified School District, as well as my alma mater in Los Angeles, CA. I have been asked to present papers on discrimination and continue to share my story with others. My goals now are to continue to inspire and motivate others.
I am now accepting public speaking engagements in order to share my story and experience with a wider audience.
