Our date started at Mai’s 5th floor walk-up in the East Village. This apartment is typical of the area, which is a fairly inexpensive and convenient neighborhood for NYU students. While the stairs provided a nuisance on a date, they represent a serious problem for many New Yorkers with disabilities. Affordable rentals are hard enough to find without the added necessity of elevators. We noticed curb-cuts on each corner, though some were flooded by the winter weather.
We had researched a restaurant with good prices and better reviews boasting unique Chinese and Middle Eastern fusion cuisine, and were excited to try it out. We walked from Avenue C, because we knew that there were only stairs to the L train at the First Avenue station, and it was quite a pleasant day.
Unfortunately, steps thwarted us again at Xi’ans Famous Foods. The entrance to the restaurant had a large step, and the tables inside looked too cramped to maneuver a wheelchair around. We were hungry by then, and decided to walk around looking for food. We passed 3 places, one of which was barred by a lip, another by steps descending to the door, and the third by outrageous prices. Our well-laid plans were ruined, and the physical space and economic considerations on top of our growling stomachs were making the situation more frustrating.
After a rocky start, the date took a turn for the better as we found a Chase. Mai withdrew money, after noting a great ramp to the entrance, and a short, wheelchair accessible ATM. Though it is great that wheelchair users can participate in necessary economic functions of public life, it is problematic that the only accessible space we had found so far was one that was one so essential to a capitalist economic system.
Across the street from the bank was a Ramen place whose delicious looking picture display drew us in. It had vegetarian options and was inexpensive. It also had no steps, and large tables with movable chairs and benches. The food was great, and the staff helpful.
From there we decided to head up to the Metropolitan Museum for some affordable artistic entertainment. We called the Met and were informed that they have lots of accommodations, including a parking garage that has a direct entrance to the Museum as well as wheelchair accessible entrances. So we took the bus up to Union Square, assuming it would be accessible, and found an elevator to get down into the subway system. Once we had swiped in, we saw elevators for the N, R, Q, and L trains, but none to the 4, 5, 6. We tried to find a different route with a subway map in hand, just to find that even if we could get to a train line, via multiple transfers at out of the way stations, there was no way to get within 20 blocks of our destination.
Meanwhile, Zoë had been ducking in and out of the emergency gate, enlisting the help of the MTA employee. Once we decided that buses were our only option, we exited the turnstiles together, and got a dirty look from the previously helpful woman. Was this because neither of us is visibly physically disabled?
The Met was another easy experience—there was a well-marked entrance with no stairs on 81stStreet as promised. There were also automatic doors and wheelchairs available for museum patrons. The museum was simultaneously extremely accessible to wheelchair users, and inaccessible to people with visual impairments, or other types of disabilities.
There were elevators everywhere (the one time we thought there were only steps, there was indeed an elevator that just wasn’t marked, and when an employee saw us looking around, he pointed us in the right direction). At the same time, we noted a complete lack of Braille in exhibits, and the audio tours had no Braille numbers corresponding to the correct audio file. We saw an exhibit on handmade guitars, and were disappointed that there were no sound clips of these artifacts. Including sound would have been a great way to include the visually impaired and to compare how construction techniques influence an instruments’ sound. The inconsistent accessibility of the museum assumes one manifestation of disability: a physical disability resulting in the use of the wheelchair. The wheelchair is often displayed as the Hallmark of disability, and the symbol of the wheelchair marks every instance of accessible space, often excluding any other form of disability as valid and deserving of accommodation. Finally, we were given a few dirty looks for riding the elevator one floor.
One long, crowded ride later we got to Zoë’s house, which has a freight elevator. Unfortunately there is no way to call the elevator, so if it is not on the first floor, it is necessary to walk up each flight of stairs to find the it. Small details further mark it as inaccessible, such as the high grate with no string or pulley that must be closed for the elevator to run, and the big gap between the elevator and the actual building.
In conclusion, the subways and stairs around town posed the biggest obstacles. On the other hand, we found buses to be great options, and in some cases were more convenient and faster than subways. It was also interesting to note passerby’s reactions to us needing accessible options, such as the MTA employee and fellow elevator riders (some of whom were wheelchair users). Assuming that all disabilities are visible is problematic. Additionally, the spaces that were most accessible were those on the Upper East Side, a very expensive area. Brooklyn and Alphabet City, by contrast, were not as accessible, which is particularly problematic for wheelchair users who are not wealthy. A completely accessible date was both a challenge and an eye-opener. New York often falls short of ADA standards, and as a result people with disabilities are denied an equal experience of the city and all it has to offer. After this project, we will never think about the 4,5,6 the same way!
--Montida Fleming & Zoë Ginsburg--
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