Accessibility at General Assembly

Two years ago, I wouldn't have even been able to tell you what Accessibility Services was.  Last year at General Assembly (GA) in Charlotte, I fought with my husband so that I wouldn't make use of them.  I lost that fight, and it was a learning experience that helped to transform the way I approach the world over the last year.  You can read some of my story as to why accessibility matters in my earlier post, "Why do I bother with accessibility?".

So, for those of you who don't know what these words mean, it boils down to this: Accessibility is about ensuring that everyone can fully participate in community.  It's about removing the barriers to full participation.  It's about educating people who are fully-abled on the daily challenges faced by people with disabilities.  It's about creating the beloved community that we talk about in our Unitarian Universalist (UU) congregations and making a truly welcoming space for everyone.

The GA Accessibility Services team does site visits during the GA planning process to assess physical barriers and identify solutions to them.  They make sure that scooters and wheelchairs will be able to navigate doorways, see what bathrooms have fragrance dispensers in them, figure out if the space has a looping system for the hearing-impaired.  They look at the area around the convention center to evaluate curb cuts, the steepness of sidewalks and how many potholes there are.  They learn if the crosswalks have signals that chirp so that people with visual impairments can safely cross.  And all of that is just the tip of the iceburg!

Due to financial constraints, my family and I decided that if we were going to be able to attend Justice GA in Phoenix, Arizona, this year, someone was going to have to volunteer or get a scholarship.  Since my husband is the president of our congregation, I decided to apply for a volunteer position. There was a huge flood of seemingly conflicting emotions when I got word that my volunteer application had been accepted, and I would not only be able to attend, but I would be working my top choice of positions - Accessibility Services.  

The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others. — Mahatma Gandhi

To be abundantly clear - I did not do any of pre-event site visits that I describe above, or any work on accessibility leading up to General Assembly.  My volunteer application being accepted meant that I got to work at the Accessibility Services table during GA and help anyone who came to us.

After my family arrived in Phoenix and finished registration, I excitedly introduced myself to the Accessibility Services Coordinator - Patty Cameron - who promptly hooked me up with a scooter because I was already in unanticipated pain from the long drive.   I was excited.  I was nervous.  I was thrilled to pieces to be working with the team who the previous year helped make my first GA a good experience, and I hoped that I would be able to ensure this GA was a good experience for those I was serving.  I was terrified that I would inadvertently marginalize someone - I have mobility limitations and although I don't experience marginalization in my daily life, I can relate and generally get it; I don't have a hearing or visual impairment, and I'm still learning a lot about what that experience is like and how not to marginalize it.

The experience of volunteering was more meaningful and fulfilling than I would have ever imagined.  I spent hours sitting at a table, and found it to be some of the most important time that I had at General Assembly.  It was hours of living our First Principle of inherent worth and dignity of every person.  

It was getting to tell the first-time GA attendee with a visual impairment that - Yes, we had something for her! Try out these spiffy full-page magnifier sheets and see if that makes it so you can read the program book and convention center signs.

It was getting to tell the gentleman who was feeling exhausted from all the walking, dragged to our table by his friend, that - Yes, the walkers and scooters are for the people who need them, and we have plenty extras, I promise if you take one, you aren't taking them away from people who really need them, it's ok for you to be a person who needs one just for this week

It was having a woman stop by and tell us thank you because the services we provided made her mother able to enjoy GA, and getting to honestly tell her that no thanks was needed, being able to serve her mother and make for a great GA experience was a privilege.

It was getting to hear people's stories - how they faced the challenges in their daily lives that come with disabilities, why they came to General Assembly, what their fears and hopes for GA and beyond were - and holding those stories close to my heart and cherishing them.

Yes, I had my share of not-so-awesome moments.  I had plenty of opportunities to roll my eyes when I was in my scooter and was cut off by folks who thought it was just fine to rush in front of me.  I got to learn what it was like to have to juggle the sometimes competing needs of different disabilities.  I got to hear the stories of folks in scooters were surrounded by chairs during the set-up of one event, and see the indignant fury in their eyes.  I heard the whispers behind me when I would rise from my scooter to get water from the fountain or walk into the hard-to-maneuver restroom.  Yet, those few and far between less than ideal moments were so far outweighed by the good ones.  

I was giddy when I saw that this year we had lyric books for the worship services - if you've never sung the song in your congregation, and then everyone rises in front of you sitting in a scooter, you can't see the words anymore.  I was thrilled to pieces during the closing celebration when the GA music director confronted head on how the language in hymns is not always inclusive and to paraphrase what Suzanne Fast had told her:

Standing doesn't have to be the strongest word to describe taking a strong position on an issue.  Sitting has a long and proud tradition in protest.  Be mindful of accessibility and inclusiveness in language.

I was humbled by attending the candlelight vigil held near Tent City Jail.  I was privileged to help serve as one of the Accessibility Services liaisons to the Witness Team that night.  The Witness Team was comprised of volunteers from around the country who went through hours of training earlier in the week to ensure that the protest was organized, peaceful and a positive experience of being in solidarity with those fighting in Arizona for basic human rights.  Every member of the Witness Team, the Right Relationship Team and UUA staff that I encountered that night had accessibility of the event on their mind.  I had perimeter control folks volunteer to not only keep the wheelchair and scooter path clear, but to clear a path through the crowd so that people with mobility issues could get to the front area where they would be able to see.  I had people volunteer to be buddies and sit in front with my "scooter peeps" to make sure if they needed to get out through the crowd a path would be cleared.  I had UUA staff and ministers directing the flow of scooter and wheelchair traffic away from the sidewalk that didn't have curb-cuts near the stage.  I had random UUs and people from our partners in Arizona volunteer to be on the look-out for walkers and canes when we gathered as a huge crowd to board buses, got to educate them on how to appropriately approach folks about possible accessibility issues while being mindful of pre-conceived assumptions that fully-abled people have when seeing a walker or cane, and how to direct people that have accessibility needs to the accessible bus loading area.  I was at the vigil, but didn't really participate since I was rolling around making sure that everyone with accessibility issues was taken care of.  In doing so, I had the opportunity to witness interactions marked not by the sympathy and pity that one usually sees in our society in dealing with people with disabilities, but rather an outpouring of compassion, empathy and kindness that makes me believe even more fervently that the Beloved Community is not only possible, but closer to fruition than I usually think.

It was a wonderful experience volunteering with Accessibility Services this year.  I would be honored to serve the GA community in this capacity again.  As a community, we certainly have even more places that we can improve access and inclusiveness.  Yet, I've seen progress in how inclusive our community can be between the last GA and this one.  We're moving in the right direction, and someday, we will get to the point of real understanding and inclusiveness - and we'll get there together.

The greatest thing in this world is not so much where we are, but in what direction we are moving. — Oliver Wendell Holmes