For nearly 40 years, I have worked to support people with disabilities at Living Well Disability Services. I did not set out to build a career in this field. When I started, I was a newly divorced mother of four young children looking for a job that would help me support my family.
At the time, I made $6.24 an hour, and it was tough to make ends meet. Recently, I calculated what that wage would equal today after inflation: about $17.42 an hour — almost exactly what many direct support professionals start at now.
That realization stopped me in my tracks.
For all the progress we have made in how we support people with disabilities, the people providing that care are still struggling, like I did at times decades ago. They also face skyrocketing housing, food, transportation and healthcare costs. Young people who might once have entered this field can now make more money almost anywhere else — even working retail or fast food.
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And yet, this work matters deeply.
The people we support remember the relationships built with caregivers over years and even decades. I still visit a man I worked with in the late 1980s, and he remembers a trip we took to Chicago nearly 40 years ago. That memory has stayed with him because relationships matter. Stability matters. Having people in your life who care enough to create joy, safety and belonging matters.
Too often, conversations about disability services at the Minnesota Capitol happen without meaningful input from the people who do this work, day in and day out. This past legislative session, key spending decisions affecting support for people with disabilities were made behind closed doors without input from those most directly impacted.
Legislators are responsible for countless issues and cannot be experts in all of them. That is exactly why we need providers, caregivers, families and people receiving services at the table when funding and policy decisions are made.
The consequences of getting it wrong are enormous.
Over the years, I have watched Minnesota move away from large institutional settings into smaller community homes like the ones Living Well operates today, where people can live fuller and more independent lives. When people moved into smaller, four-person homes integrated into the community, their quality of life typically improved dramatically. People became calmer, more confident and more connected. Today, many supports that were once common are rarely needed. People rise to the expectations we set for them.
That progress did not happen by accident. It happened because experienced professionals devoted their lives to learning what works. But the system is under tremendous strain.
I’ve dedicated four decades of my life to my work at Living Well because I believe deeply in our mission and values. I’m proud of the care we provide. But pride alone does not pay staff or sustain services. Nonprofits like ours are not trying to make substantial profits. We are simply trying to continue providing quality care for people who deserve safe homes, meaningful relationships and opportunities to enjoy life like anyone else.
No one should have to fundraise for basic human rights.
So, my message is simple: Come see this work firsthand. Volunteer to visit a home. Meet the people we support. Talk to the staff who have dedicated their lives to this field.
You will see that this is not just about budgets and line items. It is about human beings.
I have stayed in this profession for nearly four decades because I go home every night knowing my work matters. I may never be wealthy doing it, but I can put my head on the pillow knowing I helped make someone’s life safer, fuller and more hopeful.
That should matter to all of us.
Beth Ryan is a direct support professional for Living Well Disability Services in the Twin Cities.
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