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The Pitfalls and Potholes of Inaccessible Montreal
by Kenzie McCurdy
In the last issue of the Action des femmes handicapées de Montréal's newsletter, I ranted all about the horrors of the adapted transport system. For this issue's rumination, let's imagine that all the adapted transport system's problems are solved (ok, stop snickering. I heard that!) Let's imagine we have spent our hour on the phone braving busy signals and the intimidation of abrupt, unfriendly operators; we have succeeded in securing a spot in the exclusive Approved Transport Club. Wow! Doesn't that feel good? We deserve a pat on the back for all that hard work.
So now imagine: it's two days later. Let's say we are going to dinner. Reservations have been made, we are all dressed up; we even called to make sure the restaurant was accessible. Yep, everything is perfect. Nothing can stop us now.
It's 5 pm as we start to get ready (5:50 if you're male). You know the routine- shower, hair, make-up, outfit. With hardly a minute to spare, we are ready. Now remember: the adapted transportation's problems are solved. So naturally, they arrive at 6 pm on the dot to take us to our destination. We get in the cab or minibus, show our bus passes and away we go. By this time, our thoughts turn to the meal ahead. What shall we order? Do we feel like pasta or should we splurge for the salmon? Before we know it, we have arrived and are shaken out of our mouthwatering reverie. We look outside the window at the address.
<GASP>
TWO STEPS???!!!
Photo: Kenzie McCurdy
How could this have happened? Remember: we called the restaurant in advance and asked if it was accessible! Panicked, our mind starts racing with scenarios of what we can do next, but all our efforts return to the same dead-end; we blank out dumbfounded, aggravated and defeated.
This scenario happens all too easily here in Montreal, a city not known for its ease of access. The problem is manifold but to me, the most obvious obstacle is the lack of knowledge. Many able-bodied people just do not know what "accessible" means. Most people do not notice of how many steps they climb to get into their place of work or whether that cozy bistro on the corner has a ramp. As well, many people assume that one or two steps is accessible, not understanding that a person in a manual wheelchair cannot even go up one step alone and that a person in a motorized wheelchair is not able to go up even one step with help.
According to the Canadian Human Rights Commission:
At this time... there are no national standards for access to buildings. Building codes are a provincial responsibility, and not all provinces have adopted the Model National Code. As a result, accessibility standards vary from province to province and people with disabilities can never be certain that they will not have to negotiate an obstacle course as they go about their business.
http://www.chrc-ccdp.ca/ar-ra/ar98-ra98/disab-defic.asp?l=e
And even when there has been an effort to make a building accessible, I often wonder if these efforts have been thought out in collaboration with the disabled community themselves. I am sure that in most cases, this is true. However, most of us have come across buildings where we wonder if someone let their child draw up the blueprints. Like me, I am sure many of you have had to enter a building from a loading dock or an uninviting alley lined with garbage bins to scent the way. Or have had to use an entrance where there is a buzzer that you must push in order to contact someone to open the door- and found that the buzzer does not work. Or have tried to use a public washroom that is kept locked just so that no one other than a disabled person can use it- except that you can't use it either unless you find a security guard to let you in; no small feat usually.
Photo: Kenzie McCurdy
Near my home, there are two new movie theatres. They are of the mega-huge variety with tons of restaurants, video games and 18-22 theatres crammed in. Movie theatres have always been troublesome for me in terms of access. The problem is that there is a spot designated for you to sit with your companion. In the old days, that spot was at the very rear of the theatre where the screen looked marginally larger than your television screen. Now, in these new theatres, your seat is in a more "thoughtful" position. It is almost at the front where you are so close to the screen that you can practically see the layers of makeup actors use to cover up their blemishes. I have gone to these theatres with guests. On occasion, these guests have not sat with me because the closeness of the screen was too hard on their eyes.
I had a similar experience at the Molson Centre where for safety reasons, people in wheelchairs may not stay on the floor near the stage since there is no accessible entrance from that level. Instead, we must sit in a designated area so far away from the stage that the live experience is lost. While it is nice that we are able to attend a live show or hockey game, we do not have that option of paying more for better seats. We will never experience the rush of being front row centre.
The problem is that disabled people often do not have a choice when it comes to access. There is one way and that is what we must accept. It is supposedly "better" than no choice but the fact is, choice is an integral part of independence. A venue is not accessible, in my eyes, until we can go where we like inside and outside with complete ease.
What all the above ramblings show is that accessibility is not an integrated part of society yet. And until it becomes that, disabled people will always be on the outside, relying on the help of others. What we need is a mass education strategy. As much as we may get tired of being advocates, if we want things to change, we have no choice. People must constantly be made aware of what accessible means. It is not just a one-time solution. We must educate, reeducate and keep on educating until every building is made accessible. And then we must continue to educate so that our presence will not be forgotten.