Notes from the Access Field

In early August, I had the pleasure to attend two back-to-back VSA and Kennedy Center conferences in steamy, downtown Atlanta, Georgia. The first conference, Intersections, concerned itself with topics focused on arts and special education, and was attended by educators and teaching artists from across the country. And we could not have asked for a better place to reflect on what Jenna Gabriel, conference organizer, asked us to consider; “the ways in which equitable access to high-quality arts learning for students with disabilities is indeed an issue of civil rights.” As I moved from session to session, and engaged in conversations with my colleagues, I was reminded time and again of how the smallest accommodation can still have a significant impact.

Spoken-word poet and advocate LeDerick Horne, set the tone for the two-day convening by sharing the story of his educational journey, and the teachers who recognized his gift and supported him along the way. Then, Sloan McLain and I were able to introduce over 45 interested administrators and teaching artists to the creative tenets that underscore and comprise the teaching strategies employed by Austin Independent School District and developed by MINDPOP.

It was a lively two days, and there is much more that can be said about the enriching conversations that were sparked, but I just advise you to mark your calendars to attend one of the several Intersection gatherings that are scheduled for 2018 and 2019. Find out the latest information about VSA's Intersections: Arts and Special Education Conference on the Kennedy Center's website.

Silva Laukkanen, Sloan McLain and I, smiling, celebrate the completion of the CLI workshops.

Then, it was onward to the LEAD Conference (Leadership Exchange in Arts and Disability). Did I say that the conferences were held at the Atlanta Marquis Hotel, an architectural wonder all of its own? We were scattered across 46 floors, with a dizzying bank of elevators to get us to our respective rooms. I was tucked back in a corner on the 21st floor (which turned out to be a blessing when the Insight Global annual sales conference attendees arrived on Friday night)!

Elevators and floors viewed from the open mezzanine of the Atlanta Marquis Hotel

This conference brings together accessibility managers from the performing arts and museums from across the US and around the world to talk about, advocate for, and just make access happen! Our Call to Action was delivered by Mickey Rowe, the first autistic actor to play Christopher Boone in the Tony Award-winning play, “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time.” From there, we were off and rolling and there were sessions for everyone, whether a novice or a seasoned pro. I was especially interested in the conversations addressing disability artistry as a catalyst for community engagement, and the influence of scents and memory to enhance the experience of museumgoers. I am still savoring the Access Equals Aesthetic conversation with dance pioneer Alice Sheppard about making dance more accessible to audience members who are blind through enhanced audio description experiences. Again, there is too much to report, so plan to come to Denver in 2019 and add your name to the thousands of accessibility assets working tirelessly to ensure all people can participate in, learn through, and enjoy the arts.

Access = Aesthetic is comprised of five elements: Limited Access to Verbal Description for Dance; Limits of Verbal Description; Access is Art; Art is Accessible; and, Access Creates Community.

At times, there was just too much and my brain wanted a timeout. But the opening reception at the Botanical Garden and Closing Award ceremony at the Aquarium helped soothe my troubled brow.

A whale shark and stingray swim in circles in small tanks that encircle the reception room at the Georgia Aquarium.

All in all, it was time well spent. And then, when I arrived back in Austin, I attended our Lion and Pirate Open Mic to hear Mel Finefrock read her poetry and I was reminded again why I do this work. Why we do this work. Why the world will never tire of us doing this work.

Mel Finefrock sits and reads her poetry in front of the wooden wall at Malvern Books.

Language Matters!

This past week the entire staff of VSA Texas has been busy co-hosting the Kennedy Center's Office of VSA & Accessibility's annual Intersections and Leadership Exchange in Arts and Disability (LEAD) conferences, which we were thrilled to have in Austin this year! I was also personally excited for the opportunity to participate as a panelist in one of the concurrent sessions entitled "If language matters, what should I say?" which centered around the complex and often controversial topic of disability terminology, a topic I have been passionate about for a while. You can take a look at my earlier blog on this topic Call Me Disabled, or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Word to read my perspective going into this session.

Marie Clapot and Rebecca McGinnis of The Metropolitan Museum of Art along with Madison Zalopany of the Whitney Museum of American Art brought this conversation to LEAD this year and invited several artists and advocates from Austin's disability community to participate as speakers including Theron Parker, Gail Dalrymple, Nicole Cortichiato, Renee Lopez, Dolores Gonzalez, and myself. All together, a representative from nearly every contingent of the disability community was present: we had an artist with an invisible disability, a deaf artist, a parent of an adult child with multiple disabilities, several disability advocates, and others.

Sign with arrow directs attendees to the 2017 VSA Intersections and LEAD Conferences
(Photo courtesy of VSA)

The goal of this session was not to be prescriptive but rather engage in meaningful discussions about the language we choose to use around disability, the language we choose to describe ourselves, why we make those decisions, and how those decisions may influence or reflect the way we view or interact with people with disabilities on a broader scale. In no way can I capture the depth nor the full scope of our hour-and-twenty-minute long conversation, but what I can do is share what I personally learned through discussion with other speakers and attendees of the session:

1. While I may fiercely celebrate my identity as a disabled person and proudly use Identity-First Language when I can, calling myself "disabled" may not always be the clearest nor most effective language to use, and it need not enter the majority of my interactions with others. Telling a venue, museum, or other business that I am a "wheelchair user" and need "wheelchair access" cuts straight to the point; meanwhile, my identity is simply that – mine – and it's up to me when, where, and how I choose to share it.

2. Language is fluid. In a given day, I might refer to myself as "disabled and proud," tell someone else I work with "people with disabilities," call a concert venue to ask if they are "wheelchair accessible," and spend an evening with friends and family where my disability isn't mentioned at all because frankly it isn't relevant or essential to everything I do. Eliminating all linguistic options for the sake of one isn't necessary, and it completely misses the point.

3. No one language fits all. The disability experience and the personal journey inherent in that experience exists on a vast spectrum and constantly fluctuates depending on our energy level, the kind of day we're having, or recent changes in our disability. While disability pride may be the ultimate goal, you can't force that on someone who isn't there yet or rush them through their own extremely personal journey. Respect them by using the language they prefer and move on.

4. Start with accommodations. Several people in the session discussed their difficulty assessing a client's disability without asking prying questions. One of the attendees suggested asking, "How may I assist you?" This seemed to be an optimal solution: start with offering assistance or asking if an accommodation is necessary; if one is needed, provide it. The reality is everyone needs an accommodation at some point, and it's not our place to ask why or demand a suitable reason.

5. Avoid euphemisms when possible. For many people with disabilities, euphemisms like "differently-able," "special needs," "physically-challenged," etc. sugarcoat something that doesn't need to be sugarcoated. We are comfortable with who we are, and we have adapted to our unique life experience. The word "disability" is not negative or painful for us to hear; in fact, it's the opposite: a source of pride, a badge of honor, a community we know and love.

6. At some point, the language you use will offend someone. It's inevitable, I'm afraid. Considering the multitude of people with disabilities, the countless different disabilities there are, and the myriad perspectives people have about the disability experience, it is simply impossible to always say the exact right thing. However, if you see a person as a person first, recognize that disability is a normal and natural part of life, not to be feared or pitied but embraced, and make strides to be as inclusive and accessible as possible, you are far less likely to offend someone. If, after all best intentions and care, you do offend somebody, acknowledge there are things you have yet to learn, apologize, and make a conscious effort to avoid repeating that mistake.

These six lessons are not exhaustive, but I hope they may prove a helpful guide to navigating the often uncertain waters of disability terminology. Please let me know if you have any other suggestions. Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments!

Eric Clow
OMOD Project Coordinator
VSA Texas