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Different places, different awareness
Monday, May 3rd, 2010 12:37 pmI promised a post for Blogging Against Disablism Day, and now I'm late -- Beltane celebrations distracted me. My excuse is that I've been starved for public ritual work for six months, so this weekend I sort of pigged out, dancing one Maypole and supporting another, plus the Full Moon. But that's no excuse.
This week I've been much more aware of 'able-ism' or 'disable-ism' (same thing, different words, depending on which of the English-speaking countries I might be quoting), and of barriers to accessibility. Mostly because this week I've been back in the states.
In rural Guatemala and island Honduras, in the two little towns where I've been, accessibility levels reminded me of suburban and urban United States in the 1960s. Stairs everywhere, bumpy rough asphalt paths and uneven tile surfaces, cobblestones on the way to the only entrance door. Narrow doorways, crowded public transportation. Wheelchair users would have a hard time.
Perhaps as a direct consequence, I rarely saw anyone using crutches or wheels on the public street, and when I did they often were begging. My supposition about this is not so much that folks with mobility issues could only find work as beggars, but more than it looked so difficult to navigate out on the street that most folks with mobility issues probably stayed home a lot.
Here at home, though, where I remembered curb cuts everywhere and braille panels next to the ATM machine, I see we still haven't made our neighborhood adequately user friendly for everyone. Some curbcuts are obviously a problem - slanted, bumpy, on odd jolt at the bottom or top, aimed in a funny way. During our recent rains I observed two curbcuts that were flooded when nearby culverts became choked with debris.
In a restaurant, the music is so loud that everyone is shouting. Turning up the hearing aid doesn't help in that situation, so we fall silent while we eat, and save the lip-reading for after the meal. Able-bodied patrons don't seem to like it any better than those with hearing challenges, so why all the noise? Oh, yeah -- to set a 'happy, upbeat mood.' This is the reply when a woman at a neighboring table asks for the music to be turned down. Dunno 'bout you, but I'm not usually 'happy and upbeat' when I have to shout, nor when I can't hear what's going on.
At the airport. Continental was happy to sell me a seat on Flight 6361, but they didn't mention that this was a codeshare number for a flight actually operated by United, out of a different terminal. (Now I know: if the flight number seems too long for the flight, it's a codeshare). Too bad I let go of my sturdy helper before finding that out. Skycaps are available out on the sidewalk, but -- at least at that moment -- not inside. When I left the terminal to get a cart ($4) someone reprimanded me for leaving my two 50-pound bags behind.
On-line. Lots of us prefer on-line education because of its built-in accessibility and non-discrimination advantages. I don't get judged as the oldest person in the class, somebody else isn't dismissed as too young; nobody is shunned or ridiculed for being dumpy, skinny, or having a bad hair day. Unless we talk about it, nobody knows what challenges fellow students might have in the 3D world. Just this morning, though, I received a message asking professors to please include a regular 'meeting' of the class, whether voice-to-voice or text-to-text, because student evaluations often mention feeling 'lost' or 'disconnected' from classes where such live-chat meetings don't occur. Just this morning I needed to remind someone that not everyone can participate in conference calls and instant messaging.
Universal Design has prominently showed up in my awareness. Beginning a decade ago, when we built this house, and had to keep reminding the contractor that we had a couple of aged parents who used wheelchairs -- and no, couldn't climb 'even that one little step'. I'm enjoying what I'm reading -- noticing that signs with big letters, high contrast, and letters separated from pictures are easier for everyone to read, not just those with visual 'impairments;' noticing that cleaning up the audio makes everyone's experience of paging systems more useful, not just those with hearing challenges; noticing that highlighting stair edges helps everyone ... I could go on.
Just at present I'm glad to see progress ... and embarrassed at how slow it is, and how many large institutions have actually resisted change rather than leading it ... and chagrined at how glad I am to still be a TAB.*
Looking forward to more Universal Design, more genuine, easy accommodation of difference.
Reading another post on BADD, I heard the expression "the problem is You." That blogger was referencing the way they had been treated as a 'problem,' as a person needing accommodation. But for me, I want to address it a little differently: the Problem is US, the temporarily able-bodied who blithely assume someone else will fix it, or that we don't need to remove barriers because no one has actually expressed a wish to enter our space or use our facility, or that it's such a big problem it doesn't matter if it takes a long time. As with all the other forms of discrimination and privilege ... the problem is us.
Working for change.
Blessed Be.
This week I've been much more aware of 'able-ism' or 'disable-ism' (same thing, different words, depending on which of the English-speaking countries I might be quoting), and of barriers to accessibility. Mostly because this week I've been back in the states.
In rural Guatemala and island Honduras, in the two little towns where I've been, accessibility levels reminded me of suburban and urban United States in the 1960s. Stairs everywhere, bumpy rough asphalt paths and uneven tile surfaces, cobblestones on the way to the only entrance door. Narrow doorways, crowded public transportation. Wheelchair users would have a hard time.
Perhaps as a direct consequence, I rarely saw anyone using crutches or wheels on the public street, and when I did they often were begging. My supposition about this is not so much that folks with mobility issues could only find work as beggars, but more than it looked so difficult to navigate out on the street that most folks with mobility issues probably stayed home a lot.
Here at home, though, where I remembered curb cuts everywhere and braille panels next to the ATM machine, I see we still haven't made our neighborhood adequately user friendly for everyone. Some curbcuts are obviously a problem - slanted, bumpy, on odd jolt at the bottom or top, aimed in a funny way. During our recent rains I observed two curbcuts that were flooded when nearby culverts became choked with debris.
In a restaurant, the music is so loud that everyone is shouting. Turning up the hearing aid doesn't help in that situation, so we fall silent while we eat, and save the lip-reading for after the meal. Able-bodied patrons don't seem to like it any better than those with hearing challenges, so why all the noise? Oh, yeah -- to set a 'happy, upbeat mood.' This is the reply when a woman at a neighboring table asks for the music to be turned down. Dunno 'bout you, but I'm not usually 'happy and upbeat' when I have to shout, nor when I can't hear what's going on.
At the airport. Continental was happy to sell me a seat on Flight 6361, but they didn't mention that this was a codeshare number for a flight actually operated by United, out of a different terminal. (Now I know: if the flight number seems too long for the flight, it's a codeshare). Too bad I let go of my sturdy helper before finding that out. Skycaps are available out on the sidewalk, but -- at least at that moment -- not inside. When I left the terminal to get a cart ($4) someone reprimanded me for leaving my two 50-pound bags behind.
On-line. Lots of us prefer on-line education because of its built-in accessibility and non-discrimination advantages. I don't get judged as the oldest person in the class, somebody else isn't dismissed as too young; nobody is shunned or ridiculed for being dumpy, skinny, or having a bad hair day. Unless we talk about it, nobody knows what challenges fellow students might have in the 3D world. Just this morning, though, I received a message asking professors to please include a regular 'meeting' of the class, whether voice-to-voice or text-to-text, because student evaluations often mention feeling 'lost' or 'disconnected' from classes where such live-chat meetings don't occur. Just this morning I needed to remind someone that not everyone can participate in conference calls and instant messaging.
Universal Design has prominently showed up in my awareness. Beginning a decade ago, when we built this house, and had to keep reminding the contractor that we had a couple of aged parents who used wheelchairs -- and no, couldn't climb 'even that one little step'. I'm enjoying what I'm reading -- noticing that signs with big letters, high contrast, and letters separated from pictures are easier for everyone to read, not just those with visual 'impairments;' noticing that cleaning up the audio makes everyone's experience of paging systems more useful, not just those with hearing challenges; noticing that highlighting stair edges helps everyone ... I could go on.
Just at present I'm glad to see progress ... and embarrassed at how slow it is, and how many large institutions have actually resisted change rather than leading it ... and chagrined at how glad I am to still be a TAB.*
Looking forward to more Universal Design, more genuine, easy accommodation of difference.
Reading another post on BADD, I heard the expression "the problem is You." That blogger was referencing the way they had been treated as a 'problem,' as a person needing accommodation. But for me, I want to address it a little differently: the Problem is US, the temporarily able-bodied who blithely assume someone else will fix it, or that we don't need to remove barriers because no one has actually expressed a wish to enter our space or use our facility, or that it's such a big problem it doesn't matter if it takes a long time. As with all the other forms of discrimination and privilege ... the problem is us.
Working for change.
Blessed Be.