Invisible Barriers

Have you ever noticed those security cameras in places like clubs and workplaces? For security purposes, they’re meant to capture everyone’s face, but they often miss crucial groups: wheelchair users and people of short stature.

Imagine being photographed entering a venue, but the fixed camera only captures the top of your head or the wall behind you! It’s a comical situation, but it highlights a serious issue: how often accessibility is overlooked in a world designed for able-bodied people.

This is something I never really considered until I spent a few months in a wheelchair last year. Suddenly, I was acutely aware of the barriers that people with disabilities face every day.

One of my first encounters with this reality was on a bus with my two nieces. It was taking me longer than usual to board with my wheelchair, and the driver became impatient. “You know, you could have caught another bus,” he snapped. My nieces and I were taken aback by his harshness. We should have spoken up, but the shock of the moment silenced us.

While most bus drivers have been understanding, that incident made me realize how quickly patience wears thin when faced with something outside the norm. Another issue is that drivers sometimes take off before I’ve had a chance to sit down. My prosthetic leg isn’t always visible, and they don’t realize I need a moment to get settled. On a couple of occasions, I’ve nearly fallen because of this.

It’s frustrating when I board public transport and see young, able-bodied people occupying the designated disability seats. They glance up, see I’m not in a wheelchair or visibly elderly, and return to their phones, assuming I don’t need the seat. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had to ask someone to stand. It’s often older people who offer their seat, while younger passengers remain absorbed in their screens.

Just last week, I had to ask twice before someone finally got up from a disability seat on the light rail. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there,” one person mumbled. I couldn’t help but retort that I’d already asked twice.

Now that I’m more mobile, though still with some limitations, I haven’t forgotten what it was like to navigate the world in a wheelchair. It’s a reminder to be more considerate of others.

So, if you’re able-bodied and sitting in a disability seat, please look up every time the bus or train stops. Someone might need that seat more than you do. After all, that’s what the signs are there for. And one day, you might be grateful for that same consideration.