I’m throwing myself on my sword in this week’s newsletter. I’m visually impaired. And I run workshops and literary events in buildings that aren’t physically accessible.
I’m not proud of this, and I’m not going to defend my decision. I’m simply going to tell you why I use these inaccessible buildings, so you’ll see that accessibility is a more nuanced issue than it first appears.
Photo Description: People queuing outside a building, including wheelchair users.
For Practical Reasons
There are fewer and fewer venues available for small arts events and workshops, of any kind, let alone accessible ones. Add to that the fact that it needs to be reasonably central and reasonably priced. And the fact that the venue needs to be available on the date you want. If a venue ticks those boxes, I’ll go for it, even if you need to climb tricky steps to get to it.
Accessibility v. Atmosphere
I’m willing to sacrifice accessibility for atmosphere. I know I’m lucky I can do that. Atmosphere is a vital ingredient when booking a venue, particularly for evening events. It needs to be a place people want to come to. I’ve been to events and social gatherings in accessible venues. They’re brightly lit and there are no steps. But there is also no atmosphere.
Will People Go?
Making a venue accessible is about much more than a lift and a ramp. There are more intangible barriers to overcome. Work needs to be done to help some people with disabilities see that the arts is for everyone and to give them the confidence to start attending arts events. The arts sector has a lot to learn from sporting organisations who have done a lot of grassroots work to create equality in sport.
I Just Want To Get On With It
When I first started socialising with visually impaired people, I found myself either listening to endless complaints about how noisy or dark a venue was, or trapped in these aforementioned dreary, brightly lit rooms. And they have a point. This venue was not designed for us.
But while we’re waiting for society to accommodate us, we might as well enjoy ourselves. People will see a group of cane, wheelchair or stick users having fun, and stop seeing disability. When you have a disability of any kind, simply living your life can be an act of quiet revolution.
I’ve made it easier for you to comment, so you can comment on this post or email derbhile@writewords.ie.