‘You are often alone in trying to navigate a space that was not built for you’ | Is university accessible enough for disabled students?

By Sapphire Hope, Third-year, Politics and International Relations 

Ableism pushes the assumption that some bodies are inferior to others. It perpetuates the idea that disability is a burden, that walking down the aisle is infinitely better than wheeling, that speaking is always better than signing. 

Recently, a GP from north-east Wales was forced to pull out of the New York marathon after organisers decided she was not allowed to wear a vest that carried supplies for her stoma. Gayle Redmon – who needs to catheterise herself six times a day – was informed that only waist belts are permitted, and that her disability could not be accommodated.

‘I wore my crutches because when you are in a wheelchair, your disability is the first thing anyone sees. So many people refuse to waive their eyesight.’

It is this insidious, ableist discrimination that perpetuates the sense of stigmatisation already felt by those who are disabled, reminding them they live in a world that is often not adapted for them. Think of the cobbled Bristol streets lined with bins that are unreachable for wheelchair users, that only one-third of London tube stations are accessible, that almost half of the restaurants in the UK do not have a disabled loo and only 20 per cent produce menus in a larger print for the visually impaired.

Rebekah Taussig is a disability advocate and the author of the book Sitting Pretty, a memoir-in-essays which articulates the 'Rhythms and textures of what it means to live in a body that doesn't fit.’ She perceives ableist discrimination to be, often, more subtle than cruel. 

How – in 2023 – can a marathon not be adaptable for someone with a disability? Can’t we – the non-disabled – work to give other humans the same sense of societal value that we feel every day?  

My sister, Pollyanna, is an amputee. This September, she started an undergraduate course at the Northern School of Contemporary Dance in Leeds and is the only visibly disabled person there. For her, disability is a part of her identity. It is not a deficiency or an insult, it is simply an adjective. Her wheelchair is not a limitation – it gives her freedom.  

‘Disability is incredibly isolating because you are often alone trying to navigate a space that was not built for you. It’s like attempting to adapt everything in your life when everyone else has it laid out for them.’

I am not here to attack or criticise, but many of us do not realise just how inaccessible life at university is for disabled individuals. I challenge you to think of a single club in Bristol where you don’t have to go downstairs to enter or to use the bathroom. 

Pollyanna spoke to Epigram about her experience as a disabled student.

A few years ago, Pollyanna was unable to wear her prosthetic leg and was confronted with the decision of whether to go to school on crutches or use her wheelchair. Her crutches give her blisters on her hands and elbows and are exhausting. She chose the crutches.   

Pollyanna told Epigram that ‘I wore my crutches because when you are in a wheelchair, your disability is the first thing anyone sees. So many people refuse to waive their eyesight. With the crutches, I could ignore it because I was at eye level. I could pretend I was standing and had no disability at all. 

‘At my dance school, whilst everyone is always happy to adapt exercises, all classes are made to cater to non-disabled people, so it takes extra brain power to adapt and perform almost every routine – I must create a new version of whatever is taught. Standing up all day is also a struggle as I constantly must concentrate on not putting too much pressure on my prosthetic leg.’

Despite not feeling marginalised, Pollyanna says that it is isolating being the only disabled dancer in a school tailored towards able-bodied dancers. 

She emphasised the inaccessibility of university nightlife: ‘I struggle in every club I have been to because of the stairs, and I have never been offered to skip the queue. It would be far worse if I was in my wheelchair, which I often have to use if my leg is hurting. I probably wouldn’t be able to go out. Walking back from clubs is often painful for my leg. I prefer to get Ubers, but it is difficult to get my friends to alter their plans for me. 

‘Disability is incredibly isolating because you are often alone trying to navigate a space that was not built for you. It’s like attempting to adapt everything in your life when everyone else has it laid out for them.’

Pollyanna highlighted that difference should be seen not as a weakness, but as a shared beauty of humanity: ‘When you see someone, see their strengths, not their weaknesses. Every person deserves to feel they have value as a member of society. This change is possible, but it can never happen until difference should be seen as a blessing, rather than a burden.’

Is the University of Bristol diverse enough?

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In ‘Sitting Pretty’, Rebekah Taussig articulates this perfectly: ‘Disabled perspectives create a world that is more imaginative, more flexible, more sustainable, more dynamic, and vibrant for everyone who lives in a body. It is our job to do more, it’s our human responsibility to embrace every single body.’

Featured Image: Epigram / Dan Hutton

How could the university improve its accessibility for disabled students?