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Accessibility as Hospitality

It was an accessible restaurant for a couple of years. Dion and I would occasionally go, entering through a door that was both wide and street-level. One day we arrived to notice that the door was locked. I went around to the other side of building to discover that they had reconfigured the space. Now the only entrance was up three large steps. “But look!” the manager said, “The door is at least automatic”. I asked if there was any way they could let us in the other door. The answer was a hard no. “We can help him walk up the steps!” To which I said, “my husband cannot transfer out of his wheelchair. There is no walking up the steps. Do you realize that you have made a once accessible place into the opposite?” I felt enraged on Dion’s behalf. 

This is but one of many stories that could be told about the general lack of accessibility in our society. My own awareness of it was heightened when my mother became quadriplegic, with some very limited use of her right hand. Between that, Dion’s journey with Multiple Sclerosis, and the many people in my community at The Dale who require mobility supports of various kinds, my learning has expanded. This does not mean that I completely understand how it feels to experience accessibility limitations- I would never dare to claim that I do. It does mean that my eyes are open, and I feel the challenge to make accessibility a priority. It is, in my opinion, a matter of hospitality. 

My greatest teachers in this are the ones who have to navigate obstacles every single day. I have learned that the swing of a door matters, as does the placement of an automatic door button; that one step is too many; that sometimes the only way a person can manage to drink out of a cup is with a straw; that support animals are life-changing; that the height of sinks and toilets and counters can be prohibitive to some people; that not being able to participate in events because you can’t get in is heartbreaking. 

Buildings of all kinds have not been designed to be inclusive. I’m also very aware of the cost that is involved in making a space accessible. We had to build a ramp for my mom. And then when Dion required a new level of care, we had to renovate our home. We could not have made that happen without the financial support of our community. Our connections afforded us a certain privilege. I reflect on this a lot. What I long for is our experience to be replicated for everyone. 

I imagine that an important way forward is to have anything new designed for all. I recently read about how the remote control was invented for people with limited mobility, and now is a convenience for all. Similarly, SMS text messaging was first created for people who are deaf and is now a preferred method of communication. It is so easy to take those two things for granted but imagine what they mean for someone who lacks mobility or can’t talk on the phone. Accessibility for all concerns and impacts every aspect of life. 

As I walked out of that restaurant I mentioned, I was followed by one of its employees. With tears in her eyes, she explained we weren’t the first to mention the issue of the entrance and that she would be sure to talk to the manager. Seeing someone not be able to get in humanized the issue for that person. It was no longer just a door, but an obstacle. I hope that for her, and for her manager the experience will bring about tangible change.

I often think about the Biblical story of the paralyzed person who was lowered from the roof by his friends in order to see Jesus. I desire to be that kind of friend. It also reminds me that our bodies are not static. What we need today might be different tomorrow. For me, it has started with asking: for people to get around freely and in autonomy, how can we all contribute to and conceive a world that’s accessible to them and ultimately to all? 

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Story Day: Hospitality, Holding Space and Hope for More

It was close to the beginning of this year when conversations about having a gathering similar to last fall’s Story Night started. For those who don’t know, Story Night was developed in response to feedback from people who had previously been involved in Street Level, a network of poverty front-line workers. It became clear that people wanted to gather, and how it was important to broaden the scope of who might attend- there are so many people who are working toward justice, just not as their paid vocation. It felt right that Story Night was about naming our collective grief and in doing so, being reminded that we are not alone. It now felt like time for something that might encourage and equip us to keep going. I couldn’t shake the idea that hospitality might be the theme. 

Story Day: Hospitality took place last Wednesday. On the evening before, I kept thinking about how surreal it felt that the day was finally here. Now it feels surreal that it is over. It has been months of planning and connecting with people around tables and on zoom. The emails have been many about venues and food and all the nitty gritty details. It really has been all a labour of love. 

My own processing of the event is just starting to happen so it almost seems strange to be writing about it, though I imagine this might help me dislodge my thoughts. My therapist was helpful the other day when she asked, “what are some of your takeaways?” 

We need each other. We need to connect. An event like Story Day is a wonderful vehicle to gather people, and the hope is that the connection will move beyond a single day. I have been so encouraged to hear how many people have already made plans to meet since last Wednesday. 

It has been good to sit with the framework that Jason McKinney offered at the beginning of the day: Hospitality/Conviviality/Sacramentality- a threshold practice, an interior practice, a spiritual practice. A word of welcome to the stranger initiates the journey from strangeness to companionship; bread broken and shared with intention and gratitude consecrates that journey and all that comes after it. 

Similarly, it has been helpful to think about what Carl Amouzou described as the move from Benevolent community to Beloved community, We are invited to become a PART of community, and not simply administrators of it. As evidenced throughout the sharing of stories, reciprocity is a foundational part of hospitality. We all need to both give and receive. 

Both Story Night and Day have been an invitation to collectively sit in the messy middle of diverse ideas and experiences. I want more of it. In our increasingly polarized world, I long for opportunities where we can hold space for one another across difference. It isn’t easy, but as my friend Heather Beamish recently said, it is also where the juicy stuff happens. 

Wednesday was a special day, one woven together with music, art, stories, reflections, food, and conversation. The feedback so far is saying the same. It seems there is a growing momentum to this movement, one that is for us to co-create together. Here’s to more connecting, more gathering, more mutual care, more collective grappling with ideas, more diversity, and as one friend put it, more joy as resistance.