The reality is that marginalized people experience discrimination in public spaces. As they move through their lives and through various spaces, they cannot predict if they will be treated with respect, let alone if they will be safe. When they attend a show or event at your space, they should be able to know what to expect, or at least what you intend to have happen—and not happen—within your walls. So, how can you let them know? You can’t just open the door; you have to put out a welcome mat.

Making Spaces Safer: A Guide to Giving Harassment the Boot Wherever You Work, Play, and Gather

🦺 Making Spaces Safer

Accessibility

• A ramp or alternative path for each set of stairs.
• A bathroom stall that can fit someone’s wheelchair.
• A spot to watch the show from a seated position.
• A couple of extra chairs (not bar stools) with no arm rests so it’s easy to get in and out of them.
• Menus in Braille.
• Paper and pen available for people who cannot hear or speak (or, better yet, someone who knows ASL).
• If you have a signer for your event, include a “Sign Language Interpreter” symbol on all flyers and advertisements. An online image search will give you plenty of options.
• Free and easy-to-obtain water.
• A warning for intense light shows, the use of strobe lights, or smoke machines.

Food Options

• Staff members who all know the difference between an intolerance and an allergy.
• Options available for the most common allergens and dietary restrictions.
• Protocols in place to keep problematic ingredients separated, when prepared and stored.
• EpiPens (for people with severe allergies) on-site that everyone knows how to use.

Gender

• Gender-affirming or -neutral language on bathroom signage.
• Bag hooks in the bathroom stalls and at the bar.
• Toilet paper, paper towels, and soap in the bathroom.
• Obvious signage that transphobia or transphobic language is not allowed.

How about the resources specific to your town? Keep the numbers for taxis, shelters, and local support hotlines available at your door, front desk, or office. Have multiple copies on hand, especially if you have a bar, back room, or an upstairs.

Have a first aid kit on hand. Offer condoms and tampons, with signage in the bathrooms to let people know where or from whom to get them.

Naloxone, also known as Narcan, is a medication used to prevent overdoses by blocking the effects of opioids. You could save a life by having the pocket-sized injector or nasal spray on hand.

Making Spaces Safer: A Guide to Giving Harassment the Boot Wherever You Work, Play, and Gather

🫀🧠👍 Bodymind Affirmations

Neurodivergent and disabled speakers, notably Lydia X. Z. Brown and Jonathan Mooney, preface their presentations with an access note and a bodymind affirmation. They encourage people, be it in an auditorium or a group video chat, to move around and get comfortable.

I believe we should all move in our space in whatever way is most comfortable for our bodyminds.

Please use this space as you need or prefer.

Sit in chairs or on the floor, pace, lie on the floor, rock, flap, spin, move around, come in and out of the room.

This is an invitation for you to consider what your bodymind needs to be as comfortable as possible in this moment.

This is an invitation to remind yourself to remember and to affirm that your bodymind has needs and that those needs deserve to be met, that your bodymind is valuable and worthy, that you deserve to be here, …, to belong.

Against Ableism & White Supremacy: Disability Justice is Our Liberation – YouTube

I know that I myself could not sit still in a room like this for even 15 seconds. So if you are like me and you need to take a break during my presentation, that’s all good. You need to go to the back of the room and pace back and forth, I won’t be offended. You need to leave the room, it’s all good. I myself may wander off in the middle of my presentation, and you all will be accepting, inclusive, and accommodating of that for sure. (Laughter) But, hey, you know what, this is your time.

Lab School Lecture Series – Jonathan Mooney – YouTube

We Stimpunks really like and appreciate these affirmations and need the access and understanding they offer, both online and in physical space. We bring our whole bodyminds — stims, senses, perceptual worlds, and all — to every learning experience.

Bodymind Affirmations

☂️ Access Intimacy: That Elusive, Hard to Describe Feeling When Someone Else ‘Gets’ Your Access Needs

These pieces on access intimacy and forced intimacy by Mia Mingus very much resonate with our experience. Forced intimacy is the continuous submission to patient hood required to access the right to learn, work, and live differently. K-12 SpEd families, higher ed students, and workers needing accommodations regularly experience forced intimacy. Forced intimacy “chips away at your soul. Every box you tick, every sentence about your ‘impairment’ and ‘needs’ becomes part of the narrative of your identity.”

“Forced intimacy is a cornerstone of how ableism functions.” “Forced intimacy is the opposite of access intimacy.” “Access intimacy is that elusive, hard to describe feeling when someone else ‘gets’ your access needs.” That feeling is rare in the abundantly ableist medical and deficit models, though we have experienced it a few times, notably with neuropsychiatrists who noticed and met our sensory needs with a quiet, no-big-deal attitude. They understood that compassion and good user experience make for better data and better outcomes.

Our moments of access intimacy are accompanied by floods of relief. The usual mountain of anxiety, miscommunication, and empathy gaps need not be scaled. “Your body relaxes and opens up with someone when all your access needs are being met.”

Our most profound moments of access intimacy are when we meet an educator or healthcare worker conversant in neurodiversity and the social model of disability and respectful of identity-first language.

Treating my identity not as a disorder, but as a difference, one that matters in helping me and understanding me, is powerful compassion that makes for access intimacy.

There are many ways to describe intimacy. For example, there’s physical intimacy, emotional intimacy, intellectual, political, familial or sexual intimacy. But, as a physically disabled woman, there is another kind of intimacy I have been struggling to name and describe, what I have been calling “access intimacy.”

I have begun using the term loosely and am still realizing different aspects of it. This is in no way a complete describing of it, instead, this is an initial naming and the beginnings of giving it shape. I am offering it as something that has been useful for me and I hope is useful to others to describe all different kinds of access, not just in relation to disability. I think Access, as a framework, is powerful for so many of our lives. Here, I am speaking from my own lived experience as a physically disabled person but I know access intimacy can also happen in many different ways for mamas and parents, women of color, queer and trans folks, etc… Anyone can experience access intimacy.

Access intimacy is that elusive, hard to describe feeling when someone else “gets” your access needs. The kind of eerie comfort that your disabled self feels with someone on a purely access level. Sometimes it can happen with complete strangers, disabled or not, or sometimes it can be built over years. It could also be the way your body relaxes and opens up with someone when all your access needs are being met. It is not dependent on someone having a political understanding of disability, ableism or access. Some of the people I have experienced the deepest access intimacy with (especially able bodied people) have had no education or exposure to a political understanding of disability.

Access intimacy is also the intimacy I feel with many other disabled and sick people who have an automatic understanding of access needs out of our shared similar lived experience of the many different ways ableism manifests in our lives. Together, we share a kind of access intimacy that is ground-level, with no need for explanations. Instantly, we can hold the weight, emotion, logistics, isolation, trauma, fear, anxiety and pain of access. I don’t have to justify and we are able to start from a place of steel vulnerability. It doesn’t mean that our access looks the same, or that we even know what each other’s access needs are. It has taken the form of long talks into the night upon our first meeting; knowing glances shared across a room or in a group of able bodied people; or the feeling of instant familiarity to be able to ask for help or support.

Access Intimacy: The Missing Link | Leaving Evidence

Forced intimacy is a cornerstone of how ableism functions in an able bodied supremacist world. Disabled people are expected to “strip down” and “show all our cards” metaphorically in order to get the basic access we need in order to survive. We are the ones who must be vulnerable-whether we want to or not-about ourselves, our bodyminds and our abilities. Forced intimacy was one of the many ways I learned that consent does not exist for my disabled asian girl bodymind. People are allowed to ask me intrusive questions about my body, make me “prove” my disability or expect me to share with them every aspect of my accessibility needs. I learned how to simultaneously shrink myself and nonconsensually open myself up as a disabled girl of color every damn day.

Forced intimacy is the opposite of access intimacy. It feels exploitative, exhausting and at times violating. Because I am physically disabled and use a manual wheelchair, I often experience forced intimacy when able bodied people push my wheelchair without my consent or when I am in situations where I have to be pushed by people I do not feel safe with, know or who are actively harassing me while pushing me. This often happens when I am traveling and have to rely on strangers for my access needs. I cannot count the number of times a strange man has pushed my wheelchair in the airport, while saying offensive and gross comments to me. These are the moments where disability, race, gender, immigration, class, age and sexuality collide together at once, indistinguishable from one another.

The contradiction of having to survive in the oppressive world you are trying to change is always complicated and dehumanizing.

Sadly, in an ableist world, access and disability get stripped of their transformative powers and instead get distorted into “dependent,” “burden” and “tragic.” Forced intimacy is a byproduct of this and functions as a constant oppressive reminder of domination and control.

Forced Intimacy: An Ableist Norm | Leaving Evidence

This is the story about a doctor and nurse I once had and how they “got it.”

“Getting it” isn’t necessarily something that you can define. It’s ineffable. It’s more of a feeling than a specific action. For me, it’s a connection that runs deeper than the diagnosis, the medical terminology, the treatments proposed. It’s a sense of being listened to and really heard. It’s feeling of being truly cared for. It’s a sense of empathy or at least a willingness to immerse oneself in my world as a patient, to feel and see what I face. When I think of my doctor and nurse who “got it”, I remember the sense of safety and calm they offered me and knowing that I would be okay. To each patient surely it may mean something different. But for me “getting it” gives me the ability as a patient to breathe, and perchance even to live.

The Doctor and Nurse Who “Got It” | Health as a Human Right