Activism = not accessible. Mostly.
A few years ago, when I first started using a walking frame, my girlfriend and I went to join the slut walk from Courtenay Place to Civic Square. I thought I was really clever because I’d made a sign for my walker that read “Slut Walker”. It was a good march, lots of bare nipples and placards and chants. Emmie and I started somewhere in the middle of the crowd, but as we walked along, people started passing us. By the time we were half way there, the march was well ahead of us. We weren’t part of the thing anymore, we were just two people walking down the street. I pretended that it didn’t matter, but it really did. Even thinking about now it makes me cry a little bit. It’s the literal version of all the times I’ve been left behind, and felt invisible, irrelevant and excluded because of my physical ability.
So this weekend most of the queers I know will be marching to celebrate our community and the battles that have been fought and the people who continue to fight them. It will be colourful and beautiful and full of pride. But I won’t be there, because as far as I can tell it won’t be accessible. I could be gracious enough to sit by myself somewhere and watch and cheer as they come down the road. But (a) I’m not and (b) that would be a shit time.
There are heaps of things that can be done, like checking that the footpaths on the route are safe for wheelchairs, and letting people with impairments set the pace. TBH, a lot of the time, I still wouldn’t be able to join in, but I’d be more likely to try. I’d be less likely to be steering clear of the whole thing so I don’t have to think about it.
Accessibility gets forgotten at community events like these. It’s hard for volunteer-led organisations to do everything necessary to be fully inclusive. Resources are stretched and we all have blind spots (they usually align with our privilege spots). And yes, I should probably be joining the committee and asking the questions and making sure that someone does something. But I can’t right now because chronic pain.
I’ve recently got involved with InsideOUT, an organisation that aims to create safe spaces for young people of diverse sex, gender or sexuality. It’s run by a group of young people who try really fucking hard not to leave anyone behind. They know that there are forms of exclusion beyond the ones they’ve experienced. I’m inspired and humbled by them. Instead of marching tomorrow, I’m gonna make them cupcakes. With two types of rainbow sprinkles.
This thing's got legs 