AT ANY MOMENT, ANYONE
COULD BE ONE OF THEM
Journal of Healing – July 21, 2004

By Mary Koch

"Them is us!" she declared, brandishing her aluminum cane in the air.

I was attending an arts workshop but hadn’t anticipated anything quite so dramatic. Waving the cane was Bitsy Bidwell, community arts development manager for the Washington State Arts Commission.

Her script was not out of Shakespeare but a 95-page handbook for nonprofit arts organizations. Anyone else might have given perfunctory attention to the mere two pages about access for people with disabilities. Bidwell presented the material with the passion of someone who’s been there.

Most able-bodied people are blissfully unaware of the barriers that commonly confront some 54 million Americans who live with disabilities. In spite of federal law – the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) – there are unwieldy doors, impossible bathrooms, sidewalks without curb cuts, and on and on.

Bidwell first encountered this reality pushing her mother around in a wheelchair. Now she herself awaits hip surgery.

Disability can happen in a moment, in a day, to anyone – like my husband, fleet of foot and able-bodied one day, totally paralyzed the next.

* * *

AS JOHN'S primary wheelchair pusher, I've encountered many ironies. The arts handbook notes that access is a civil rights issue. But wheelchair users often are shunted to the back of the bus, so to speak.

Years before his stroke, John and I ardently supported construction of the Omak Performing Arts Center. The architects promised it would be accessible. John and I were to find out for ourselves that it is – minimally, and as long as you’re willing to watch the show from the back row. That’s the only spot (other than the stage itself) accessible to wheelchairs. This kind of discrimination is common.

One of the most stunning new buildings in the state is Seattle’s downtown library. Its architecture has drawn international acclaim. But when the Seattle Post-Intelligencer sent a reporter in a wheelchair to tour the building, he concluded that the architects clearly followed ADA requirements to the letter – and that’s not a compliment. The ADA is bare minimum. Buildings may be ADA-accessible and still not be accommodating.

* * *

PEOPLE CAN bridge that gap between accessibility and accommodation, if they care to. It surprises me when we go to various arts events how often I have to argue with ushers or struggle to find a place for John – even when I call ahead and request wheelchair accommodations.

A few years ago I took John to a concert in a theater (built after the ADA) where there was no particular place for wheelchairs. I finally got him parked at a precarious slant, positioning my purse in front of his wheels as an extra brake.

At that point one of the concert crew came up and said, "You have to move him. The musicians will be coming in that way." No offer to help.

Some people cannot see beyond the wheelchair or the problem it poses; the person seated in it is ignored.

"We are talking about people first," instructs Bidwell. "Not 'the disabled.' PEOPLE with disabilities."

Last week, after attending a concert in Chelan, we enjoyed lunch in a small restaurant where the waitress was wonderfully accommodating. Then she ruined it, standing near my husband and talking about him as if he couldn’t hear or comprehend.

"They like to get out," she chirped. "It means a lot to them."