I am a loud and proud trouble-making crip. I have hung out with fellow crips, or people with disability, for a long time – they are my people, working, socialising, advocating and occasionally even mobilising our #criparmy when it is called for.
But, being that unabashed person who tends to call people out when things are not accessible to me or my friends, I am often asked to put my money where my mouth is and provide people with an easy solution. (Which, while I totally understand and encourage it, is actually really tough as it puts the burden of fixing the situation on the person who tends to be the most disadvantaged one in the room…)
![To make things truly accessible is not about ticking off a checklist, it is about listening and adapting.](/web/20161205154456im_/http://www.smh.com.au/content/dam/images/g/q/d/w/t/8/image.related.articleLeadwide.620x349.gt2mfd.png/1480718871473.jpg)
But, putting that aside, this tends to be where we hit a problem: there is no "solution" I can provide.
Sure, I could explain to you about ramps and lifts, about tactile signage, or easy English, closed captioning, or Auslan interpreting and, following that advice, would take you a lot further than where you are now. These are all things that you should do. However, providing people with nice, easy checklists glosses over one fundamental aspect of disability and, indeed, humanity – we are all different.
If you want to create a truly accessible space for people with disability, or indeed anyone, you need to remember, as cliched as it sounds, that we are all unique. There is no "one size fits all" approach, even though the pervasiveness of that blue wheelchair symbol infers that there is. In fact, what may facilitate the participation of some people with disability can create an environment which would make it impossible for other people with disability to participate. For instance, my friend Phin can't easily walk in rooms with bad lighting. Due to his low vision and difficulty with depth perception, he risks falling over and significantly injuring himself. My friend Ashley, on the other hand, cannot be in bright, fluoro-lit rooms because this will tend to cause sensory overload for her, which undermines her capacity to function, in bad instances for days at a time.
So, if I were to host an event in a room with very bright fluoro lights, I would have the choice of having the lights on and including Phin, while excluding Ashley, or having the lights off to include Ashley but exclude Phin. See how a "checklist" wouldn't work in this instance? It's the same for a person who has limited literacy (which could be anyone, not just a crip like me) and someone who has recently become deaf. One would require a written menu to be able to choose what they'd like for lunch at a restaurant. The other would require a waiter to tell them what was on the menu. If the restaurant were to rely only on written menus or only on waiters to explain what's on offer, one of the two customers would not be able to order.
But this is not a problem in most restaurants, is it? So why is that? The answer is simple: flexibility and communication. The vast majority of restaurants are happy to change how they communicate their menus, depending on what the customer will find most accessible. Open questions such as: "How are things going?" or "Is there anything I can do for you?" give an opportunity for various customers to raise any concerns or requests they have. The open and supportive demeanour of a caring waiter means there is less guilt requesting changes to the status quo. That attitude, marked by open questions, patience, the willingness to listen, and the flexibility to change things up if it helps, makes you feel like less of an imposition on the world. Which is vital, if we want to create a world that crips like me and my friends can participate in.
Of course, for those who communicate using methods other than speech, open questions themselves can sometimes be problematic! There is no simple answer.
So, next time you start ticking off your lovely, glossy checklist in order to get that blue wheelchair logo on your website, remember, access is an attitude, a commitment to including everyone in our community. You must welcome those conversations about access, continuously seek feedback on how you can do better, continually adapt your work to make your space accessible to the people who use it and tell people far and wide that you are willing to listen and adapt (and then do so!). If not, you are not being accessible, you are simply checking off a list.
December 3 is International Day of People with Disability.