CAN EVERYONE HAVE FULL ACCESS? BY AMY DICKINSON
why we shouldn’t aim for ‘full access’ in the artsPublished in SICK issue 6, 2024
Amy Dickinson is a creator and activist working on developing accessible practice in the boundary between the arts and health sectors. She is passionate about creative accessibility and aims to show the potential of this philosophy in all her work. Amy works with art organisations around the world as a trainer and consultant.
“We are very proud of the accessibility work we have already done.”
“We have several disabled people attending who are happy with our service.”
These are some of the replies I have received after requesting small and reasonable accommodations from organisations that pride themselves on being welcoming and kind to everyone. When I read these replies, I see two beliefs behind the statements. The first is that my needs are too much, the second is a judgement of me for having those needs. Embedded in these responses is an assumption that I am choosing to be a problem—that I just enjoy complaining. It comes from years of ableist messages that we receive daily in society: independence is a moral virtue and good health is always something we choose through our actions. Chronic illness and disability are wrongfully and harmfully linked to a lack of motivation, discipline, and responsibility. The idea that I, a disabled person, am not worth the effort, has been deeply ingrained into me.
Everyone deserves to spend the run-up to an event being excited about it—be it watching your favourite band or seeing some hard-hitting drama at your local theatre. Instead, so many disabled people spend it worrying that they will face barriers and not be able to enjoy their time. When I ask for accommodations or complain about an inaccessible experience, I can feel my stomach clench with anxiety. I have heard the above statements or similar so many times and each one cuts the same wound a little bit deeper. As an access and inclusion consultant in the arts, I have to battle a lot with my inner fury and pain. When I teach access and inclusion courses, I explain that if a disabled person has an emotional reaction to an access issue that might seem like a small thing, it’s because we’re actually reacting to hundreds of barriers, rejections, and disrespectful interactions that we experience every year. A wheelchair user who can’t access the bar before a show because the counters are too high may have also had to deal with people leaning on their wheelchair handles in the busy venue, having to use a different entrance than their friends, and not being able to catch the bus because the one wheelchair space was taken, all in the space of an hour.
It is because of these harmful experiences that I am so wary when a venue or organisation describes themselves as ‘fully accessible’. The first thought that comes to mind for me is: ‘fully accessible by whose standard?’ What is the measure by which this organisation has deemed itself ‘fully accessible’? The answer is almost certainly not going to include the input of a wide variety of disabled people with a range of different needs and perspectives. How will the staff at this venue react if I challenge their claim of full access by requesting an accommodation that they do not provide? The words ‘fully accessible’ suggest that the venue has the wrong attitude towards accessibility. They believe it is a target—an end goal that can be achieved by ticking off a list of tasks—and then not thought about again.
I don’t think it’s possible for any venue or event to be ‘fully accessible’. It is not a state that can be achieved, and it is the wrong thing to be aiming for. Instead, venues should focus on being open-minded and inclusive in their approach to supporting disabled people and making sure every event is safe for the individuals who are attending. There are of course some indicators that an organisation may be able to use to show that they take disability access and inclusion seriously. They could be part of a scheme such as being a Disability Confident Employer, following the Attitude is Everything charter, or having an AccessAble guide. Although there is no exhaustive list of tasks that can be completed to make a place or event fully accessible, these programmes are a starting point in accessibility and inclusion.
The term ‘accessible’ refers to the ability to access somewhere or something and the absence of structural, cultural, and societal barriers that may prevent access. Crucially, what is accessible will be different for everyone based on a variety of factors. As someone with a dynamic disability, my symptoms vary over time and in different environments. I am not sure how I am going to feel thirty minutes from now, which makes it difficult for me to know what access requirements I will need on the set date and time I will be attending a show or performance. The accommodations I need to access an event may also change throughout the time I am there.
There is a misconception that all disabled people know exactly what their access requirements will be for every situation they enter. Many disabled and neurodivergent people are used to ‘masking’ their symptoms—hiding any behaviours that do not fit with social expectations. Because of this, sometimes we may not feel safe or be experienced in considering or disclosing what our needs are. How can a venue be sure it is fully accessible, and can meet our needs, if we will be discovering those needs throughout our experience of an event? Accessibility needs to be considered at all stages of an interaction between an organisation and individuals—from first awareness via advertising, booking tickets, attending events—through to follow-up contact such as giving feedback.
As well as an individual having fluctuating needs, there may be multiple disabled people with needs that clash. For example, one person may require low lighting because of sensory overwhelm or due to a migraine, and another person may need the lighting to be bright due to being partially sighted. Neither requirement has a moral value; they are both unavoidable and the individuals have no control over their existence. Neither need is more important than the other, and it is unlikely that they can both be accommodated in the same space. The space cannot be fully accessible for both individuals at the same time—and this is okay.
In a situation with clashing needs like the one above, open discussion and communication would be necessary to find a solution that works for everyone. This might be having different lighting settings for different showings of an event. If this is advertised to the general public, other people will likely feel seen and considered, too. If this solution cannot be offered, it is important to communicate compassionately about how you will take the feedback on board for your future programming, and keep the individual updated with any changes you make for later events. This approach to accessibility prioritises flexibility on the part of the venue and clear communication.
By providing access information in advance a venue/organisation shows that they value their audience. Upon first thought, it may seem like a bad idea to advertise how a building and a show may be inaccessible. However, if there are long-term structural access issues that will take a long time to change, I would argue that an organisation is prioritising my time as a disabled person by advertising that information so I don’t turn up to a show I can’t access. Even more importantly, it avoids a potentially harmful experience where I am in a situation that triggers symptoms just because a business is worried about optics.
Still, a venue including this information on their website in multiple forms is not enough on its own. A key part of increasing accessibility as an organisation is having multiple clear ways for a disabled patron to get in touch and discuss their needs before, during, and after an event. Before an event we need to be able to discuss our known needs and whether they can be met. During an event we need to know who we can contact should a need arise. Afterwards we need to know who we can give feedback to, both positive and negative. Feedback is important because true access and inclusion work is an ongoing dialogue and exploration between disabled people and venues.
The Old Market in Brighton is an example of a venue that prioritises communication and flexibility in its access provision. There is a clear access tab in the main menu on its website. The first pieces of information on their access page are the contact details of their Access Lead with a picture and multiple contact method options. The times and limitations around when they can communicate with customers and respond to enquiries are stated clearly.
Also on this page is information about a variety of potential access needs such as personal assistance tickets, the compass card scheme, and wheelchair-accessible seats at both seated and standing events. There are videos about travelling to the venue and a virtual reality tour of the space. Each heading includes both the access features (e.g. where the wheelchair spaces are situated for each kind of event) and the limitations (e.g. they are limited to three wheelchair spaces.) The Old Market focuses on building strong relationships with their disabled customers so they can provide personalised support. They are currently setting up an Access Hub which will bring together some of their regular disabled customers to offer feedback on where access improvements can be made.
In my daily life and work, I am all too aware that improving the approach to access is more complicated than simply sharing information and increasing knowledge. There are a lot of societal and physical issues that mean accessibility is often treated as something extra, rather than an essential part of running a venue. I was recently fortunate enough to attend the Driving Change event hosted by Roundhouse in London, which brought together equality, diversity, and inclusion professionals working in the arts so we could learn from and support each other. Events like this show that there are people in the industry committed to access and inclusion and we are working together to make sure we move in the right direction.
• • •
“We have never provided this before, and there has never been a complaint or problem.”“We are very proud of the accessibility work we have already done.”
“We have several disabled people attending who are happy with our service.”
These are some of the replies I have received after requesting small and reasonable accommodations from organisations that pride themselves on being welcoming and kind to everyone. When I read these replies, I see two beliefs behind the statements. The first is that my needs are too much, the second is a judgement of me for having those needs. Embedded in these responses is an assumption that I am choosing to be a problem—that I just enjoy complaining. It comes from years of ableist messages that we receive daily in society: independence is a moral virtue and good health is always something we choose through our actions. Chronic illness and disability are wrongfully and harmfully linked to a lack of motivation, discipline, and responsibility. The idea that I, a disabled person, am not worth the effort, has been deeply ingrained into me.
Everyone deserves to spend the run-up to an event being excited about it—be it watching your favourite band or seeing some hard-hitting drama at your local theatre. Instead, so many disabled people spend it worrying that they will face barriers and not be able to enjoy their time. When I ask for accommodations or complain about an inaccessible experience, I can feel my stomach clench with anxiety. I have heard the above statements or similar so many times and each one cuts the same wound a little bit deeper. As an access and inclusion consultant in the arts, I have to battle a lot with my inner fury and pain. When I teach access and inclusion courses, I explain that if a disabled person has an emotional reaction to an access issue that might seem like a small thing, it’s because we’re actually reacting to hundreds of barriers, rejections, and disrespectful interactions that we experience every year. A wheelchair user who can’t access the bar before a show because the counters are too high may have also had to deal with people leaning on their wheelchair handles in the busy venue, having to use a different entrance than their friends, and not being able to catch the bus because the one wheelchair space was taken, all in the space of an hour.
It is because of these harmful experiences that I am so wary when a venue or organisation describes themselves as ‘fully accessible’. The first thought that comes to mind for me is: ‘fully accessible by whose standard?’ What is the measure by which this organisation has deemed itself ‘fully accessible’? The answer is almost certainly not going to include the input of a wide variety of disabled people with a range of different needs and perspectives. How will the staff at this venue react if I challenge their claim of full access by requesting an accommodation that they do not provide? The words ‘fully accessible’ suggest that the venue has the wrong attitude towards accessibility. They believe it is a target—an end goal that can be achieved by ticking off a list of tasks—and then not thought about again.
I don’t think it’s possible for any venue or event to be ‘fully accessible’. It is not a state that can be achieved, and it is the wrong thing to be aiming for. Instead, venues should focus on being open-minded and inclusive in their approach to supporting disabled people and making sure every event is safe for the individuals who are attending. There are of course some indicators that an organisation may be able to use to show that they take disability access and inclusion seriously. They could be part of a scheme such as being a Disability Confident Employer, following the Attitude is Everything charter, or having an AccessAble guide. Although there is no exhaustive list of tasks that can be completed to make a place or event fully accessible, these programmes are a starting point in accessibility and inclusion.
The term ‘accessible’ refers to the ability to access somewhere or something and the absence of structural, cultural, and societal barriers that may prevent access. Crucially, what is accessible will be different for everyone based on a variety of factors. As someone with a dynamic disability, my symptoms vary over time and in different environments. I am not sure how I am going to feel thirty minutes from now, which makes it difficult for me to know what access requirements I will need on the set date and time I will be attending a show or performance. The accommodations I need to access an event may also change throughout the time I am there.
There is a misconception that all disabled people know exactly what their access requirements will be for every situation they enter. Many disabled and neurodivergent people are used to ‘masking’ their symptoms—hiding any behaviours that do not fit with social expectations. Because of this, sometimes we may not feel safe or be experienced in considering or disclosing what our needs are. How can a venue be sure it is fully accessible, and can meet our needs, if we will be discovering those needs throughout our experience of an event? Accessibility needs to be considered at all stages of an interaction between an organisation and individuals—from first awareness via advertising, booking tickets, attending events—through to follow-up contact such as giving feedback.
As well as an individual having fluctuating needs, there may be multiple disabled people with needs that clash. For example, one person may require low lighting because of sensory overwhelm or due to a migraine, and another person may need the lighting to be bright due to being partially sighted. Neither requirement has a moral value; they are both unavoidable and the individuals have no control over their existence. Neither need is more important than the other, and it is unlikely that they can both be accommodated in the same space. The space cannot be fully accessible for both individuals at the same time—and this is okay.
In a situation with clashing needs like the one above, open discussion and communication would be necessary to find a solution that works for everyone. This might be having different lighting settings for different showings of an event. If this is advertised to the general public, other people will likely feel seen and considered, too. If this solution cannot be offered, it is important to communicate compassionately about how you will take the feedback on board for your future programming, and keep the individual updated with any changes you make for later events. This approach to accessibility prioritises flexibility on the part of the venue and clear communication.
By providing access information in advance a venue/organisation shows that they value their audience. Upon first thought, it may seem like a bad idea to advertise how a building and a show may be inaccessible. However, if there are long-term structural access issues that will take a long time to change, I would argue that an organisation is prioritising my time as a disabled person by advertising that information so I don’t turn up to a show I can’t access. Even more importantly, it avoids a potentially harmful experience where I am in a situation that triggers symptoms just because a business is worried about optics.
Still, a venue including this information on their website in multiple forms is not enough on its own. A key part of increasing accessibility as an organisation is having multiple clear ways for a disabled patron to get in touch and discuss their needs before, during, and after an event. Before an event we need to be able to discuss our known needs and whether they can be met. During an event we need to know who we can contact should a need arise. Afterwards we need to know who we can give feedback to, both positive and negative. Feedback is important because true access and inclusion work is an ongoing dialogue and exploration between disabled people and venues.
The Old Market in Brighton is an example of a venue that prioritises communication and flexibility in its access provision. There is a clear access tab in the main menu on its website. The first pieces of information on their access page are the contact details of their Access Lead with a picture and multiple contact method options. The times and limitations around when they can communicate with customers and respond to enquiries are stated clearly.
Also on this page is information about a variety of potential access needs such as personal assistance tickets, the compass card scheme, and wheelchair-accessible seats at both seated and standing events. There are videos about travelling to the venue and a virtual reality tour of the space. Each heading includes both the access features (e.g. where the wheelchair spaces are situated for each kind of event) and the limitations (e.g. they are limited to three wheelchair spaces.) The Old Market focuses on building strong relationships with their disabled customers so they can provide personalised support. They are currently setting up an Access Hub which will bring together some of their regular disabled customers to offer feedback on where access improvements can be made.
In my daily life and work, I am all too aware that improving the approach to access is more complicated than simply sharing information and increasing knowledge. There are a lot of societal and physical issues that mean accessibility is often treated as something extra, rather than an essential part of running a venue. I was recently fortunate enough to attend the Driving Change event hosted by Roundhouse in London, which brought together equality, diversity, and inclusion professionals working in the arts so we could learn from and support each other. Events like this show that there are people in the industry committed to access and inclusion and we are working together to make sure we move in the right direction.