Pride will only be truly inclusive when it is accessible to disabled LGBTQ+ people

This Pride Month holds particular significance due to ever-increasing hostility towards LGBTQ+ people nationwide. But while the protests and celebrations champion justice and inclusion, disabled people are often inadvertently excluded. I’m one of them. Inaccessibility has meant I haven’t been able to attend Pride since 2019, and I’ve never felt further from the queer community.

While around 1 in 4 LGB Americans and 2 in 5 transgender Americans are disabled, accessibility at Pride events often falls short. Organizers should be embracing diversity and inclusion across the board, so it’s essential to address the barriers preventing many LGBTQ+ disabled people from being able to fully participate.

Related:

As polyamorous folks push for acceptance, one brewery gives them a beer of their own

“Polyambrewous” is, to my knowledge, the first Queer-Poly Pride beer ever commercially made. We hope it helps people see us.

One of the first concerns about accessibility at Pride is the physical side. Parade routes are often long and on less-than-ideal terrain, and to spectate means fighting through crowds. If you have a visual impairment or use a mobility aid, for example, it’s not just difficult but potentially unsafe. Of course, that’s if you can even get there. When public transport is overcrowded or redirected, there’s a real chance that you might miss the whole thing.

Never Miss a Beat

Subscribe to our newsletter to stay ahead of the latest LGBTQ+ political news and insights.

Daily

Weekly

Good News

If you do manage to make it, how long will you be able to stay? If there are no accessible toilets and there’s nowhere safe to take a seat and rest, your time is likely to be quite limited. And while part of the joy for many is the loud and colorful atmosphere, it can quickly become overwhelming for people with sensory issues.

But let’s say you do make it and there is somewhere for you to sit down, use the toilet, and manage sensory overload. Will the performances have audio descriptions and live captioning? Are there sign language interpreters? Is there a designated viewing area for wheelchair users and others that need it?

And that’s not all. Now that the pandemic is apparently ‘over’, hybrid and digital events seem to be largely over as well. Social distancing and masking have been thrown out, and suddenly there’s no place at Pride for immuno-compromised people.

The effect that this has on queer disabled people cannot be understated. It’s like a constant battle for scraps of recognition.

Jess Roses told LGBTQ Nation, “It makes me feel like I’m not a valued member of the community or like it’s too hard to accommodate me.”

“I feel self-conscious having to fight for access at what is supposed to be an inclusive event.”

The sentiment is shared by Geri, who said, “I went to a parade years ago when I could still walk, and it was very loud which is hard for autistics.”

“Also, I’m still masking but I don’t know anyone else local who is, too. There are problems for me with marching, standing, noise, and COVID precautions. So, I don’t exactly feel like part of the community.”

Sure, there are a lot of access needs to consider. That’s why it is so important to consult with disabled people from the very beginning. True accessibility at Pride will never be achieved as long as it remains an afterthought. And it’s really not that complicated. The people with lived experience need a seat at the table and to be heard.

Solutions differ for different events, but typically, they include separate, quieter spaces for people that need them. These spaces should be regulated in temperature, have tools to aid in reducing sensory overwhelm, and are able to be dipped in and out of as needed. 

That way, people affected can still attend the same events and have as close to the same experience as possible.

And yet, these conversations are still not happening consistently. With that in mind, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that some disabled queer people have stepped up and taken the reins.

Mary Fashik is one of them. She is a transnational, transracial adoptee, born in Lebanon. She founded Upgrade Accessibility, a disability justice movement designed to challenge accessibility standards.

She also founded Pride Our Way, an annual two-day event hosted entirely online for the disabled and chronically ill community.

On why she saw a need for Pride Our Way, she said that “Pride events have historically been inaccessible for the disabled and chronically ill community. With the pandemic being treated as though it has ended, that’s especially true.”

The unpinning value of the event is to provide a space where disabled queer people can experience Pride in a way that is accessible to them.

Even on a limited budget consisting largely of donations, Fashik has been able to create just that. Day one includes an opening ceremony, an exhibition of art from disabled LGBTQ+ people, and adaptive yoga. The yoga session focuses on “creating space within our body and mind, and taking up that space to build a world worthy of our queer joy.”

On day two, attendees will enjoy a mini-concert and drag show. Every part of the event features captioning and audio descriptions as standard. American Sign Language interpreters are also provided for the live drag show and adaptive yoga.

As for the benefits to the community, it’s clear to see how important this is. It’s a place where everyone can be their true authentic selves – their whole selves.

What we queer disabled people need from the rest of the LGBTQ+ community is a willingness to learn and enthusiastic collaboration. If Pride continues to exclude people, liberation and justice will only be delayed.

We all want to be free, safe and equal. So we need to work together.