As I start to get back into the world from my thirteen year hiatus, I notice that the world treats me differently to how it did before I got ill...because I am disabled. I noticed it most this week, when three events happened that made me realise the problem.
Before I became unwell, I wouldn’t have even thought about wheelchair accessibility. Society doesn’t teach us to be aware of such. If you don’t deal with it on a one to one basis, then it is not a problem we see.
I went to London recently, and an event that I was very much looking forward to was not accessible. The organisers were distraught as every other part of the building was accessible. The question is: why not everywhere? There are so many people who are wheelchair bound; why do we have to go to specific places that can cater for our needs? Why not everywhere? Am I less of a human being than another because I cannot walk? The answer in my head is no. The answer in the big wide world is: yes.
I don’t exactly understand why to businesses and the bigger wider world, we are seemingly less. All I do know is it starts off with how we are taught. If wheelchair users were integrated into people’s everyday at school, it would force the future (young people) to be faced with a much richer and diverse pallet. We identify with what we know; this is why we should be taught sign language, taught about different disabilities and then focus on disabled people’s abilities. To do this, we need things that stop us from being ‘different’. A great example of this is Dan White’s Department of Ability comic book. Why should those using a wheelchair not be superheroes too?
It’s all about how we perceive disabled people. This brings me on to my next event in London... I went to an Itsu cafe. London is great in that aspect: there is a restaurant for every type of food. The cafe had an accessibility buzzer. I pressed it and it struck me that the disaster had come: the ramp was not suitable for a few steps. They assured me that it was and I tried to get my wheelchair up. It looked as if no one had used the ramps before and halfway up I got stuck. The wheels were spinning but I was not moving. Suddenly there was a jerk and I flew up the ramp but it was traumatic. The worse part was when I got up, I knew that I had to get down. It was significantly worse. That is said with a shudder and a very scared face. The wheels came off the ramp and were spinning in the air, I was stuck. It was such a scary experience. Then suddenly I fell down the ramp and went flying out the door. All they could do was apologise. I was traumatised. That feeling of falling in a 150kg wheelchair (three times my weight) but having no control of yourself. I was stuck in a body that could not escape.
Our next ‘event’ that happened was a lift that was not big enough to fit anything but an upright foldable wheelchair. Thankfully, my wheelchair could be moved up and down but still it was difficult.
Inclusion is essential. We are no less just because our legs don’t hold our body weight. There is so much work that needs to be done to improve awareness. Please, if you see someone struggling, don’t watch and stare - see if you can help.
To put a positive spin on this blog, I went to a choral concert with my family to make memories, (yes with ear plugs and ear defenders)! It was in a church and my dad had let them know that I was in a wheelchair, so they provided a space for my car to be parked and a massive sturdy ramp (the itsu shop definitely needed that one), and there was no problem at all in me getting up the ramp without being scared stiff. It’s these changes that make a massive difference to people like me.
Blog written on 13th April 2018
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