Curb Cutting and New Favorites in Fairmount

Berry Smoothie + Philly Egg & Cheese (+ an ice tea because one beverage is never enough)

I'm sitting in a café in my neighborhood that I've never been to before, but will definitely be visiting again. In search of an access friendly spot with a good breakfast sando and a spot to plunk down and write, I found a great diner about a 20 minute walk away and just past the CVS where I needed to pick up my emergency meds, as I've been out for a few days (I do not recommend this).

This is not that café. With heat and woozies, the 20 minute walk was too much, so Ellie and I stopped into a place about 3/4 of the way down to our goal. I've walked past Warehouse Coffee in Fairmount a few times, but mostly at night or bopping between bars in the neighborhood, when I haven't paid it much mind.

It's a rustic industrial set up that is an excellent example of accessible design being embedded into the very architecture. One of the two entrances are ramps, and the checkout counter is reachable from a seated position. There are high tops, a whole bunch of regular height two tops combined in various configurations, as well as some long dining type tables with plenty of removable seats for wheelchairs. If you order for here, they give you a number to put on your table so they can bring the food to your seat. I haven't checked out the bathrooms yet but I bet they've got accessible options.

All of this being said, I'm not a wheelchair user, and these aren't the accommodations I specifically look for when looking for a space that meets the needs of my disability. But as someone who has worked in access advocacy and engagement for a long time, these are all signs that someone behind the scenes made some good, deliberate choices to make inclusion of all community members as seamless as possible.

In working in access and engagement, the biggest push back I get when trying to proactively make spaces accessible is that there "isn't enough money" or "it isn't a business priority". I've heard it directly from managers, directors, board members, and it frustrates me to no end.

Access isn't a charity issue, and thinking of it as such shows not just a total lack of empathy, but a serious misjudgment of the return on investment that comes with proactive customer engagement.

In access, the first rule of thumb is "nothing about us, without us", meaning don't make decisions for people if they aren't represented at your table. The second biggest bit of pushback I get is that people are 'afraid of doing it wrong', meaning they’re afraid of being sued. I'm not saying that's not possible; unfortunately in the US, that is the recourse for individuals experiencing ADA violations. It's embittering, overwhelming, and most disabled folk choose to just let move on rather than sue because it's less emotionally and financially taxing. Instead, they'll turn to the power of their networks, whether that’s their social circles, Facebook groups, or other local communities, and loudly let their friends know not to patron an establishment that refuses to entertain accessibility improvements.

That word of mouth is potent. And in this age of being wired and dangerous, it can also be deadly to a business. So organizations are right to be nervous about messing up. Which is why representation at decision making or advisory tables is imperative. Without engaging directly with the audiences you're trying to engage, how do you have any idea what you should be doing?! You can consult regulations, but regulations are no match for lived experience.

It doesn't require bravery to undertake access initiatives. It requires integrity and a willingness to learn from lived experience. Quite often, it may even take a willingness to hear that your organization has caused harm in the past, and the drive to use that knowledge to do better moving forward.

There is a well-known concept called "curb cutting" that speaks to the ripple effects that access improvements can lead to. In the early 70s, a big initiative was made to add cuts to sidewalks curbs so that wheelchair users might have better access to the public walkways. It was met with the type of pushback I mentioned above, but also its detractors really leaned in to how this was such a large amount of work for such a small population. Fortunately, curb cutting proponents won out, and now, 50 years later, all sidewalks have cut curbs.

Yet what we've seen over the last half century isn't just increased access for wheelchair users, we've seen an improved experience for everyone. These curb cuts are used not only by folks utilizing mobility devices, but also by parents pushing strollers, folks with luggage or grocery carriers, and just about everybody else. When you walk on a sidewalk and go to cross a street, what part do you exit/enter through?

As I sit here in this café, next to the ramp entrance, I've watched an elderly woman being escorted in her wheelchair by her caretakers or grandsons, three parent driven strollers, a young woman on one of those knee scooter things with her foot in a large cast, and a dozen other folks use the accessible entrance. There's ample space for folks to maneuver, and a staff of servers willing to help when needed. (I also saw the coolest looking wheelchair that looked like it was just a regular wheelchair but with the front of a moped attached to it, but he was sitting at one of the tables outside, also accessible).

Is it perfect? I don't know, this is just my first time here. But it's all enough to make me feel comfortable to come back again, and probably add this to my regular roster of writing respites.