And then all hell broke loose.
There was an explosion of sound.
Gears grinding. Metal popping. Blasts and banging.
The door didn’t open at the end of all that.
We were stopped still, afraid that something was going to explode out of the machinery. Seriously, it sounded dangerous. It stopped. Joe looked at me and said, “I think we’ll use this door, and we went through. As we did so the staff who had initially had her attention pulled by the sound was long gone.
Only later did I realize that her boredom, after her initial attention, wasn’t just about her job but about the situation as well. She had known the door didn’t work, had heard the sounds before, and they were meaningless to her.
That’s a big part of the problem that we have as disabled people. The issues that have a dramatic impact on our lives are meaningless to those without disabilities.
Who cares that the door doesn’t open when I can easily open and enter myself?
Who cares if the cut curbs are in bad repair when I can easily step over rough patches of pavement?
Who cares if the options are reduced for disabled people when they are never reduced for me?
The things that impact our lives as disabled people seem frivolous to the point of meaninglessness. No one in that store has done anything about the door, and they probably all know about it. There is no sign of intervention. No sign of repairs under way. No suggestion that other doors be used. Nothing.
That’s left to me.
That’s left to some other disabled person.
That’s left to some family member or support person who needs the door to assist with entry for their child or the person they serve.
It’s already work enough to be different in a world built for exclusion. A world where the word ‘modifications’ means that a gift has been given, that the ‘typical’ has been ‘adapted.’ Shouldn’t access be the norm rather than result from the norm being modified?
I’ll call on Monday.