Inaccessible pride is just exclusion
Accessibility is often treated as one value to be balanced against everything else.
The venue.
The history.
The budget.
The atmosphere.
The convenience.
But when accessibility loses, disabled people don't get a slightly worse experience.
We don't get a less convenient seat.
We don't get a worse view.
We don't get to participate at all.
And then we're expected to understand.
To be gracious. To appreciate that people listened. To accept another apology and another promise to do better next time.
Disabled people have spent years understanding.
It's time to stop treating our exclusion as acceptable.
My latest article is about what happens when accessibility is always expected to lose-and why disabled LGBTQ people shouldn't have to keep making peace with being left outside.
• https://www.autostraddle.com/this-
pride-disabled-Igbtq-people-dont-need-your-apologies/
Image:
Photograph of a wheelchair user facing a long flight of stairs with no visible accessible route. Overlaid text in cream-colored boxes with rainbow shadows reads: "Accessibility at Pride is treated as one value to be balanced against everything else." A second box reads:
"But when accessibility is lost, disabled people don't get a slightly worse experience. We don't get to come." The image illustrates how inaccessible spaces exclude disabled people from participating altogether rather than merely inconveniencing them.
From personal experience attending various public events, I have seen firsthand how accessibility is often an afterthought rather than a priority. It’s common for event organizers to list accessibility alongside other considerations like budget or venue aesthetics, but this approach fundamentally overlooks the impact on disabled attendees. When accessibility is compromised, disabled individuals don’t just face minor inconveniences—they are completely excluded from participating, missing critical social, cultural, and community moments. This exclusion can be deeply isolating, especially in gatherings like Pride, which should celebrate diversity and inclusion. Moreover, the issue isn’t limited to physical barriers like stairs without ramps or inaccessible restrooms. Accessibility encompasses clear signage, availability of assistance, and creating an environment where disabled people feel welcomed and valued. As a community, we have to shift the mindset from viewing accessibility as a competing value to seeing it as an essential foundation. Including disabled LGBTQ people fully means acknowledging their right to participate just as anyone else does. It means making spaces accessible upfront rather than retrofitting after complaints. And crucially, it means listening to disabled voices without expecting endless patience or gratitude in response to failed attempts. I’ve witnessed several Pride events promise improvements year after year, yet the results still fall short. Disabled attendees shouldn’t have to accept repeated apologies or promises without real change. True inclusion is about proactive planning, accountability, and valuing everyone’s presence equally. In summary, making Pride accessible is not just about compliance or kindness—it’s about justice and empowerment. We need to challenge event planners, communities, and allies to prioritize accessibility genuinely and ensure that no one is left outside simply because their needs were considered 'one value among many.' Everyone deserves to come, celebrate, and belong.
