A Reminder that Anger is Justified

The exciting buzz in my home academic department is that we’ve moved to a shiny new building. We’ve ditched the dungeon for a swanky open-space layout equipped with standing desks and abundant natural light. Walking with a couple of my friends, the topic of the building’s accessibility came up. We took turns pointing out design elements that limit access.

“None of these signs have Braille.”

One of my able-bodied friends commented, “I worry every time I walk down these stairs because there aren’t any depth cues. And they’re so slippery.”

“There aren’t automatic doors to many spaces. How could someone with a mobility impairment get around?”

“With an open layout, sound carries. Ambient noise will make it impossible for those with hearing loss.”

“Everything looks the same! It’s so easy to get lost!”

As we wandered through the stunning spaces, we found ourselves nitpicking the many ways the building has its shortcomings. My immediate affective reaction was a tinge of gratitude and pride at how woke my friends have become to access needs.

But my friends felt very differently. “This is infuriating! How do they design a fancy new building and not consider accessibility?” They were outraged, declaring this unacceptable.

I found myself defending the well-intentioned faculty behind the building plans. “I understand it’s hard to accommodate every form of disability. There are a lot of considerations to take into account.”

My friend retaliated, “okay sure, but mobility, vision, and hearing. Those big three deserve attention.”

Another friend added, “and now is the time, rather than retrospectively updating the building!”

They are completely right. Their sense of injustice and fury highlighted how easily those of us with differences in ability become complacent. Our complacency stems from a lifetime of being unable to access the same spaces, material, and opportunities. Despite my outspoken nature, I too have succumbed to learned helplessness as a result of living in an able-bodied world as a person with a disability.

I found myself reflecting on a building planning meeting months ago. The facilitator asked about additional concerns that may not be on the forefront of people’s minds. I instantly thought about inclusion and accessibility. But, I said nothing. I didn’t want to sound needy or dissatisfied. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. I didn’t want to be the voice representing all people with disabilities. At the time, I silenced my voice as to not inconvenience the majority. Looking back, I regret my silence. Now, for the umpteenth time, future generations of students will be plagued with the challenge of navigating yet another space with limited accessibility.

Scrutinizing the new building, discovering missed opportunities for greater access, and hearing my dear friends’ reaction reminded me to reinvigorate and mobilize my anger in an effort to promote social justice.  All new buildings, especially on a college campus, should be fully accessible to those with differences in physical ability. My resulting embarrassingly cheesy mantra: when access is denied, anger is justified.