The Inaccessibility Cycle is everywhere

Before I dive into the meat of this newsletter, I wanted to take a little moment to celebrate. Yesterday, my name, Instagram account, and insights were shared in an advice column in the Washington freaking Post!

The column, Asking Eric, is written by Eric Thomas and is syndicated across a number of different newspapers in the US. Eric first reached out to me a few weeks ago because he was writing a response to a disabled women and he had seen some of my content shared as a resource elsewhere. 

I was happy to support his request, but then kind of forgot about it until yesterday, when my friend Haley sent me a link to the post that her husband's aunt had shared! Apparently I'm now famous ✨ 🙃

I'm sharing this because a) this feels like a pretty cool milestone and b) I'm trying to build a practice of celebrating the things I accomplish in this space, because they matter! And I hope it encourages others to do the same with their own wins, big or small. 

Alright — on to the topic at hand! 

THE INACCESSIBILITY CYCLE

Today, I want to talk about the inaccessibility cycle. I first came across this concept in a post by @pacingpixie that visually represented the highly embedded cycle that continues to keep disabled folks outside of certain spaces. 

Through this cycle (explained in detail below), people in power and decision makers continue to justify inaccessible experiences. It's why things continue to stay the same, which, to me, is one of the most frustrating parts of being a disabled woman navigating a world that wasn't designed for me. 

Let's go through the individual steps to see how this happens.

Step 1: A place, event, or experience is inaccessible. 

This could be a restaurant, a government service, a job, an educational resource, a medical procedure, and so many other experiences. These spaces are often designed to meet the “norm,” without considering how they can cater to disabled folks with a variety of different needs. 

Step 2: Disabled folks are unable to go or join in.

As the space or experience isn't accessible to them, the only choices disabled folks have are to not participate or to put themselves in an uncomfortable position in order to “make it work.”

Step 3: Disabled folks are not visible in these spaces. 

Since disabled folks are unable to participate, they are often not seen or witnessed in these spaces. The public and decision makers perpetuate a flawed belief that disabled folks don't want to show up or participate in specific scenarios.

Step 4: Disabled folks are identified as outliers. 

The disabled individuals that do find a way to participate and make their way into these spaces are seen as exceptions. They can also be framed as “inspirational” for overcoming their disability in order to participate, which is a dangerous narrative that lets decision makers and organizers off the hook so that they don't have to make things more accessible. 

Step 5: A handful of outliers aren't considered enough of a reason for change. 

Because disabled folks are seen as exceptions in these spaces or experiences, people in power refuse to make changes that would better accommodate disabled folks. This is the one that I have particular issue with as a statement of logic. Because, if you see someone who wants to participate, but can't fully, why wouldn't your instinct be to make things easier for them? And why wouldn't you assume that if you make things easier for one person, it would make things easier and more accessible to so many more? 

The avoidance to change is so strong and embedded, and it's baffling to me. 

Step 6 (also Step 1): Places, events, and experiences stay inaccessible.

And the cycle continues.

Here's an example to put it all in context. 

Imagine a subway system where many stations are inaccessible because they don't have elevators built in. (Step 1)

In this scenario, many disabled folks can't fully use the subway system. (Step 2)

As such, the public and the people responsible for the subway system rarely see perceivably disabled folks in the subway. (Step 3)

This means that disabled folks that do use the subway are seen as an exception or an outlier to the norm. Decision makers keep believing that disabled folks rarely travel from one part of the city to another. (Step 4)

Because of this, decision makers don't feel the need to make changes so that the subway system is more accessible to everyone. (Step 5)

As a result, the subway system remains largely inaccessible to disabled folks. (Step 6 / 1)

This same thinking happens in artistic spaces, educational environments, workspaces, and so many more. And the thing is, it's really easy for disabled folks to just accept their lot in life and that these spaces aren't made for them. Because that's what we're told at every turn. But image how much richer and more interesting and more inclusive these spaces could be if they were made more accessible to all disabled folks. 

Note: While I've focused many of the examples on physical accessibility, based on my own experience as a wheelchair user, this inaccessibility cycle impacts people with all forms of disability.

While disabled folks can help shift this “logic” and the established narratives by making themselves more visible in these spaces (where and if it's safe to do so) I think that the bigger responsibility lies with non-disabled allies who can easily exist in these environments. 

Non-disabled folks can: 

🌻 Use their voices to point out inaccessible features

🌻 Remind decision-makers of who is being left out

🌻 Listen to disabled folks and communicate their frustrations

🌻 Make formal requests for more accessible experiences