Not far from my sit spot, seemingly nestled away from the rest of the busy and raucous world of a city (that, indeed, never truly sleeps) is a wondrous and large plot of green space. This discovery—gift, really! —means that I have the ability to, with the help of the ol’ pied-mobile, venture into nearby nature and escape from the urban environment my home is huddled in. This translates to me, like Lucy Pevensie in C.S. Lewis’ The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, slipping into a green and enchanted world that, for a time, can give the impression of being completely separate and untouched from urban development. Winding trails, rugged stairways, and quaint bridges provide the perfect backdrop to unwind and slow my pace—to just simply breathe.
However, lately—and thanks to some recent course readings—I have been looking around my sit spot (and walking trail) through a new lens. Firstly, I note how fortunate I am to be able to have these shared experiences with the more-than-human world, and second, I have come to understand that these trails and locations are not always accessible to all members of my new community.
Indeed, from my sitting spot I see leaves scattering the ground like a handful a skittles. On the one hand, it is beautiful, but on the other, it is a terrible tripping hazard that is only amplified for someone the requires devices to help them travel. I also see a sidewalk that is in need of repair, jagged sections of pavement and upturned ground make the road uneven.
As previously mentioned, the pathways along my walking tail are not designed for the use of such devices either, as they are incredibly narrow and uneven. So, where I have admittedly viewed paved roads as being a disruption of the natural world, others would view this as improved accessibility. And so, who am I, to fight or argue against making a world more equitable and accessible for all?
Not to Get Personal, but...
Just recently, I accompanied two of my family members on an outing to the local shopping centre. Both have mobility difficulties (short term/long term) that require them to use wheelchairs for extended distances (in deference to them, I will not share their personal stories). What I noticed (and have noticed) is that my local environment is incredibly inaccessible to some members of society. From spatial factors in stores and restaurants and illegible topography of signs and menus, to the height of counters at tills and blaring ambient music, it takes very little time to see how most settings and situations are geared toward non-disabled people. For example, when someone lives with chronic pain, every single groove in an aesthetically pleasing tiled floor becomes, for them, an agonizing journey that must be endured to complete day-to-day tasks. So, from my experience (or the experiences from those around me), I can agree that a lack of accessibility affects people in my community. It affects a disabled person’s ability to, not only, complete necessary tasks within their lives (and subsequently within a society geared towards non-disabled people), but also to interact with the more-than-human world.
I am not only privileged to be able to make space to discuss and ponder these issues, but I am also privileged by the fact that my relationship to the more-than-human world was developed by my access to these green spaces. An access that is not afforded to everyone in my community.
Use Your Words, and Use Them Well!
Elizabeth Wright’s (2020) article, “Climate change, disability, and eco-ableism: Why we need to be inclusive to save the planet” was incredibly enlightening on how important it is to consider all perspectives when talking about eco or climate justice. Furthermore, eco-ableism (“ableism” from “environmental activists who fail to take into account those that are less able or privileged then them” (Wright, 2020)), which is something that I am certainly guilty of, is yet another indication that causes, such as climate justice, should not be pigeonholed.
We cannot move forward in our journey towards sustainability until everyone has a seat at the table. Whether this involves adjusting the table or removing the table altogether, it is important to be open to any change that will make this world equitable and inclusive for all.
I am, unfortunately, unable to offer any solutions to these issues. All that I can do is make note of areas where I see room for improvement (within myself and my community). I can acknowledge, once again, my own privilege and open myself up for all or any changes that will make this world more accessible. I can, as a communicator, continue to highlight stories, like Wright’s (2020), in the public sphere. As climate scientist Katharine Hayhoe says, “the most important thing you can do to fight climate change [, and in this case, eco-ableism, is to] talk about it” (TED, 2019). And so I would like to encourage myself (as well as others) to do just that: Talk. Tell stories that matter.
References
TED. (2019, January 11). The most important thing you can do to fight climate change: Talk about it | Katharine Hayhoe. [Video]. YouTube. https://youtu.be/-BvcToPZCLI
Wright, E. (2020). Climate Change, Disability, and Eco-Ableism: Why we need to be inclusive to save the planet. UX Collective.
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