The Unequal Right to Learn: Cultural Stigma and Special Education in the South

By Summer Lewis

In a small Southern town, a mother sits at her kitchen table, staring at a letter from her child’s teacher. The teacher suggests that her second grader may benefit from a special education evaluation. But the mother hesitates. Her own childhood was marked by whispers about “those” kids, the ones who got pulled out of class and never quite rejoined the fold. Her pastor once told her that God makes no mistakes, and her sister insists that schools just want to slap labels on children and pump them full of drugs. So she puts the letter away, never responding. Her child continues to struggle in silence.

This scenario, though composite, echoes true for many families across the American South. Despite federal mandates like the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA), which guarantees students with disabilities the right to a free and appropriate public education, access to special education services remains uneven and fraught with barriers. One of the most insidious obstacles isn’t legal. It's cultural. In many Southern communities, deeply rooted stigmas surrounding disability, race, and poverty contribute to significant disparities in how special education is accessed, identified, and enforced [6].

This article explores how cultural beliefs unique to the South reinforce systemic failures, leading to a deeply unequal right to learn for children with disabilities, especially children of color.

The Southern ethos has long celebrated values like self-reliance, toughness, and faith over formal intervention. In rural and conservative areas especially, disabilities are often seen not as neurological or developmental differences, but as moral or behavioral failings to be corrected through discipline or prayer [6]. This belief system creates a climate where asking for help or accepting a diagnosis is viewed as weakness.

Layered onto this worldview is a deep-rooted skepticism of institutions especially those associated with government or "Big Pharma." Many Southern families are wary of psychological evaluations, diagnoses, or medication, believing that such labels are tools of overreach, or that they serve the interests of profit-driven companies rather than children. The idea of putting a child on medication for ADHD or anxiety is often met with resistance, framed as a betrayal of parental responsibility or as unnecessary interference [6].

There’s also a persistent belief that struggling builds character. Hardship is seen not as something to be avoided, but as a rite of passage that strengthens one’s moral fiber. Children are often told to “tough it out,” “mind their manners,” or “pray on it” rather than express emotional or academic distress. For boys in particular, behavioral challenges are dismissed as just being “high-spirited,” while girls who mask symptoms are praised for quietness rather than identified for support [6].

This mindset disproportionately affects students with "invisible" disabilities, such as autism, ADHD, or dyslexia. Parents may view these diagnoses as excuses for bad behavior or lack of discipline rather than medical conditions requiring tailored support. In some communities, there’s a strong aversion to what’s perceived as government overreach. Schools are mistrusted, especially when it comes to labeling a child as disabled an act many see as irreversible and damaging [6].

At the heart of the stigma is the fear of labeling. Parents worry their children will be seen as “less than,” and children often internalize this judgment. In many schools, special education is still viewed as a separate track that leads away from academic achievement and toward a dead-end. That perception, whether or not it's accurate, affects whether families pursue support.

These labels can carry significant social costs in tight-knit communities. Students may be excluded from sports teams, honors classes, or even church youth groups. Parents may feel judged by neighbors, relatives, and educators alike. Instead of advocating for their children’s rights under IDEA, they may try to “tough it out,” hoping their child will grow out of it or that a stricter home environment will fix the issue [6].

This cultural reluctance to acknowledge disability results in measurable disparities in identification. According to Psychology Today, Black and Hispanic students in the South are significantly under-identified for disabilities such as autism and ADHD compared to their white peers [2]. While over-identification was once the norm for some racial groups in specific disability categories (like emotional disturbance), recent shifts now show that many students who need help simply aren’t being flagged.

Under-identification is especially severe in Southern schools, where teacher training on disability and cultural competency is often lacking. The result is a dangerous invisibility. Students of color who need special education services are often ignored, dismissed, or mischaracterized as behavioral problems. According to an article in the Mississippi Today, only 1.5 percent of children under three in the state receive early intervention which is less than half the 3.2 percent national average, underscoring significant early-stage under-identification [1].

Even when students are identified for special education, how they are supported matters just as much as whether they receive services at all. The Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) emphasizes that students with disabilities should be educated in the least restrictive environment (LRE), ideally, alongside their nondisabled peers. Many Southern schools still rely heavily on separate, pull-out classrooms for students with disabilities, physically removing them from general education environments. While intended to provide tailored instruction, this separation can reinforce stigma and reduce access to rigorous coursework

Research shows that students with disabilities who spend more time in inclusive settings learning alongside their neurotypical peers tend to have better academic and social outcomes. Yet in many Southern districts, full inclusion remains the exception, not the norm. Teachers often lack the training or resources to accommodate diverse learners in one classroom, and administrators may believe that special education students "can't keep up" with the general curriculum.

This separation, while sometimes necessary for specific needs, often reinforces harmful stereotypes. It sends a message to both students and their peers that disability means exclusion, saying that students receiving services are “other,” incapable of keeping up, or burdens to the rest of the class. In small, tight-knit Southern schools, where reputations travel fast, that label can stick for years.

Inclusion, when done well, promotes not only academic access but also belonging. It encourages collaboration, empathy, and higher expectations for all students. But inclusion requires resources: co-teaching models, specialized training, and flexible curriculum. Too often, schools under financial or cultural pressure choose the simpler path of separation not because it’s best for students, but because it’s easier to manage or more palatable to skeptical parents [4].

Without a strong commitment to meaningful inclusion, special education becomes not a bridge, but a boundary…one that too many Southern students are never allowed to cross again. True integration requires not only changes in scheduling or curriculum, but shifts in mindset: that all children deserve to be seen, challenged, and supported in the same spaces [4].

The Southern education system has long suffered from chronic underfunding. States like Mississippi, Alabama, and Louisiana rank among the lowest in the nation for per-pupil spending. Special education, which requires additional staffing, training, and resources, suffers even more under these budget constraints.

Low funding often means school psychologists and speech-language pathologists are stretched across multiple campuses. Many rural districts operate without a single full-time special education coordinator. As a result, even when students are identified as needing services, those services may be delayed, inconsistent, or inadequate.

According to Southern Spaces, this scarcity of resources disproportionately affects communities of color and impoverished rural areas, where the need is often greatest [5].

Even when federal mandates exist, enforcement at the state level is inconsistent. Mississippi, for example, has repeatedly failed to align its state education policies with federal IDEA requirements. A 2023 investigation by the Southern Poverty Law Center revealed that children across the state are routinely denied evaluations, misdiagnosed, or left without services entirely [4].

Parents who attempt to fight these injustices often lack the time, money, or legal knowledge to advocate effectively. In rural areas, transportation barriers and a lack of internet access further isolate families from resources. Meanwhile, schools, knowing the oversight is minimal, may push back against costly individualized education programs (IEPs) or delay evaluations to save money [4].

Students of color with disabilities in Southern schools are more likely to face harsh disciplinary measures than their white or neurotypical peers. According to the National Center for Learning Disabilities (NCLD), Black students with disabilities are suspended at three times the rate of white students and are more likely to be restrained than their white counterparts [3].

This "discipline gap" contributes to what many advocates call the school-to-prison pipeline. Instead of receiving behavioral support or counseling, students are suspended, expelled, or referred to law enforcement. In effect, students are punished for behaviors related to their disabilities, further alienating them from the educational system and reducing their chance of academic success [3]. When 55 percent of white students with disabilities spend a majority of their school day in a general education classroom, and only a third of black students with disabilities spend that much time in a general education classroom why are you surprised when they struggle more [3]?

I grew up in the Deep South, where asking for help was something you did only after you failed. Mental health, learning disabilities, and neurodivergence were topics whispered about, if acknowledged at all. I remember classmates who struggled to read, speak clearly, or regulate their emotions, children who were mocked, isolated, or written off by teachers. I now wonder how many of them had undiagnosed disabilities. I wonder how different their lives could have been if someone had stepped in.

My own family viewed therapy and special education with suspicion. It wasn’t until adulthood that I realized how deeply those beliefs shaped my own reluctance to seek support, even when I needed it. The cultural messages were clear: problems are personal and not to be talked about. You work harder. You pray. You do not let strangers label your child.

These values weren’t born of malice, but of generations trying to survive under difficult conditions with few resources. But today, they serve to deny children the rights they are guaranteed under federal law.

When cultural stigma intersects with underfunded schools and systemic racism, the consequences are devastating. Students with disabilities fall through the cracks. Families are left to fend for themselves. Entire communities miss out on the contributions of individuals whose potential was never given the chance to bloom.

This isn’t just a Southern problem and many other Southern ideals around family serve children well, but the South presents a perfect storm of complicating factors: deeply entrenched conservative values, widespread poverty, racial inequity, and political resistance to federal oversight. Together, these forces create a climate where the very children IDEA was meant to protect are least likely to benefit from its promises. The children are not being left behind, they are being hidden. 

The long-term consequences are profound. Students who don't receive early intervention are more likely to drop out, face unemployment, or become involved with the criminal justice system. The economic toll on communities is enormous. The human toll is incalculable.

Addressing the disparities in special education access in the South requires a multifaceted approach. First, states must increase funding to ensure all schools can meet IDEA standards. Second, culturally sensitive outreach must be prioritized to combat stigma and inform families of their rights. Third, enforcement must be strengthened. Federal and state agencies should hold districts accountable for failing to identify and support students with disabilities. IDEA compliance reports show that every state remains out of compliance with federal special education law Mississippi alone saw 53.8 percent of cases involving LRE violations in 2023–24 [4].

We must also invest in teacher training, particularly around cultural competency and disability awareness. Educators must be equipped not just to spot learning differences, but to understand how cultural factors affect how families perceive them [4].

The right to learn is not a privilege; it is a promise codified in federal law and rooted in moral responsibility. But in too many Southern schools, that promise is broken by a combination of stigma, neglect, and systemic inequity. We cannot expect children to rise when the system built to support them refuses to see them.

Recognizing and confronting the cultural stigmas around special education is not about undermining Southern values. It’s about honoring them by giving every child, no matter where they live or what challenges they face, the opportunity to learn, grow, and succeed.

Works Cited

1. Ganucheau, Adam. “Report: Access to Special Education Services for Young Children Is Low in Mississippi; Racial Disparities Exist.” Mississippi Today, 24 May 2023, https://mississippitoday.org/2023/05/24/report-access-to-special-education-services-for-young-children-is-low-in-mississippi-racial-disparities-exist.

2. “Disparities in Special Education Identification.” Psychology Today, 14 Oct. 2019, https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/children-who-struggle/201910/southern-schools-racial-segregation-and-special-education.

3. Disproportionate Discipline of Students with Disabilities: Trends and Actions for Impact. National Center for Learning Disabilities (NCLD), July 2020, https://ncld.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/2020-NCLD-Disproportionality_Trends-and-Actions-for-Impact_FINAL-1.pdf. Accessed June 2025.

4. Mississippi Education Outcomes Report. Learning for Justice, Oct. 2024, https://www.learningforjustice.org/sites/default/files/2024-10/ms-education-outcomes-report.pdf.

5. “Southern Education.” Southern Spaces, 2024, https://southernspaces.org/2024/separate-and-unequal-schools-past-future/.

6. “Why Parents in Rural Areas Struggle to Get Special Education Services.” The Hechinger Report, https://hechingerreport.org/tag/special-education/.