Blogging Against Disablism Day

I generally write about crafts here, but when I heard about Blogging Against Disablism Day, I knew it was something I had to participate in. I've always heard the term ableism (or ablism) rather than disablism, but they seem to mean the same thing: discrimination in favour of able-bodied people. There are many aspects to this issue, and I'll only address a small part of those that affect me personally.

While more places are accessible to those who can't climb stairs now than in past decades, there are still an awful lot of places that are not at all accessible. This is obviously something that needs to change in time. But in the mean time, I'd like to see all public venues provide clear information about their accessibility or lack thereof. I'd like to see it posted upfront, on publicity materials, on the outside of buildings, on web sites, on telephone recordings at businesses. And I want the information to be accurate: don't tell me it's accessible if it's not. Don't tell me your hotel is "totally accessible" if the washrooms are not accessible -- do you think people are going to stay for the weekend but not use the washroom?!

Every time I want to go somewhere new, it's up to me to try to obtain accessibility information. Sometimes I can get it quickly, by phoning a place. Other times, it's much harder: I've left phone or email messages, and never heard back, or not heard back until it's too late. It strikes me as ridiculous that every time any person who needs accessibility information wants it, we have to phone or call or write or show up and hope for the best. Business advertising always includes basic information like address and contact details. Often it includes hours and a list of services provided. Why not include access information?

And when community groups put on events, make access a priority. If it's not a priority, be honest about that. I'd rather hear, "our event is not fully accessible -- we're holding it in a place with stairs," than hear nothing at all and have to spend time searching for this information. Worse is when people tell me that, "of course it's fully accessible," and then I show up and find out it's not.

I'd like to see details: if you're not fully accessible, then don't claim to be. And if you fall short of full accessibility, describe everything. There are a lot of us who can in fact manage partially accessible spaces, and you're losing our participation if you don't provide the details. If you have stairs, tell me if you have two steps or two flights of stairs. If the washroom is small but has grab bars, say so.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not saying this is good enough. I still want all places to become properly accessible. But having this information -- about partial or total lack of accessibility -- would really cut down on the frustration I and many others feel about trying to find out these details. I can't tell you how often I've phoned a business and asked questions about these things, only to be greeted with completely bewilderment, ignorance or hostility. Staff in any business, community centre, government office, etc., should be trained to give out this basic information. Examples of situations I should NOT have had to encounter:

• At the community centre where I wanted to exercise, I asked whether there was another route down to the fitness equipment room besides down a long flight of stairs. The answer was no. When I asked why there was no elevator down for those who were disabled, the staff person laughed and said, "the equipment is for working out on. I don't think disabled people can do that anyway, right?" I used the stairs, laboriously, on crutches, every day for several weeks, and suffered damage to my knees as a result. Just as my membership expired, I found out that I could have made special arrangements to enter the building on the lower floor and avoided these stairs all along.

• I tried to make a reservation at a campground, and when I asked if the site was fit for wheelchairs, had someone yell at me that "those people" can't go camping anyway and then hang up on me. When I finally found an accessible campground, I was delighted. I made sure that the grounds and the public washrooms were all accessible. Yes, I was told, it was not only accessible, but washroom had a wonderful large shower with seats and everything. Hooray! When I arrived, I found that the only entrance to the washroom was up two large steps.

• A local group regularly rented a hall to put on parties, but their preferred location was inaccessible. Finally, after much arguing and discussion over a couple of years, the group decided to rent an accessible space. Yay! When I arrived, the accessible entrance was locked and unstaffed. At the main entrance, at the bottom of a flight of stairs, was a sign telling me that the event was accessible, and all I had to do was ask a friend or volunteer to go up the stairs and ask to have the other door opened. (Because, you know, us gimps aren't fit to go anywhere on our own. Not like we might arrive alone, and not have anyone to send up the stairs, right?) After much hollering and going back and forth between the entrances, I finally had someone come out and arrange to let me in the other door. Once inside, I headed for the washroom, only to find that the only accessible stall was out of order and taped shut.

When these things happen, the ramifications for the person with disabilities can be severe. From the perspective of the business owner or community organizer, it may not be a big deal. They may experience a moment of regret that they couldn't meet everyone's needs. But for the person who has shown up only to be excluded, or left in a dangerous or unhealthy situation, it's a really big deal. We're all members of society, and none of us should be left out. Even a small amount of thought and effort will make a big difference. And maybe, if everyone has to acknowledge the lack of accessibility every day, businesses and community groups will be more motivated to make places properly accessible rather than accepting the status quo.