(Disabled) Girls Just Want to Have Fun (Part 2)

[Alt Text] A vertical-aligned poster with a green and orange patterned background. Taped to the poster is a polaroid-style photograph of a crowd of people silhouetted at a gig, with a raised hand in the foreground. At the top of the poster, white text reads “(Disabled) Girls just want to”, and then “Have Fun” is written underneath in pink bubble writing. On the bottom right hand corner of the poster is the Equal Lives logo - Equal Lives is written in blue text, with a tagline written in purple - Free from disabling barriers. There are 3 orange birds flying into the air above the writing.

In the first instalment of this blog, I discussed the importance of music in my life, and the challenges I face as a Disabled person when I attempt to enjoy live music. I shared my experiences of a day-festival (Festival 1) that I recently attended for the second year in a row, and the ways in which they let me down on access.

Just two weeks after Festival 1’s draining access experience, Festival 2 demonstrated a near perfect example of how accessibility can be part of the event’s culture and plan.

Festival 2 was a dream, but…

Content warning: mention of sexual assault

A few days before Festival 2, an access pack arrived in my email inbox, including various accessible formats. The pack explained what I could expect from the staff, alongside the location of the accessible entrance, viewing platform, toilets and lowered bars.

During both years that I attended Festival 2, the accessible viewing platform was so well managed – staff were excellent at striking the balance between ensuring Disabled people were given the access we need, while simultaneously preventing drunk, non-disabled people from using the platform and blocking our view.

The staff at Festival 2 have clearly been trained on disability – they treated me like a normal human being, a paying customer of the event, and someone who requires different measures to enjoy a comparable experience to non-disabled attendees. The festival had also employed ‘welfare wardens’ amongst the crowd in purple clothing, to ensure the crowd were safe.

Drunk people

A common feature of live music is drunk people. Inebriation can reveal both the best and worst of people; some becoming intuitively considerate around Disabled people in the way children often are. Others can become mean, infringe on personal space, ask invasive questions, or make weird comments that reveal they hold some degree of prejudice towards me (microaggressions).

Being Disabled, I’m all too aware that even sober people often fail to realise how being gushy and calling me ‘inspirational’ is uncomfortable. This tendency of strangers is magnified when alcohol is involved.

Additionally, people generally are not expecting to see someone in a crowd at seated level. Often, when drunk people’s eyes fall on me, they struggle to mask their instantaneous reaction of ‘OH! That’s a person sat down! Oh my god am I staring at that wheelchair user for too long?!’. This can feel a bit alienating when you’re out just trying to enjoy yourself, but I understand that this doesn’t come from a place of malice.

I notice that while some people give me an excessively wide berth, presumably due to discomfort around disability, others seem to view my taking up an area of physical space atypical to them as an opportunity to cut through. This means people are constantly bumping into me, which can be a bit overwhelming in a sensory way. They may see the space above my head and think it translates to width too, but my chunky powerchair actually takes up more space, as I have footrests.

An upsetting experience this summer at Festival 2, was as I left the lowered bar, a very drunk woman danced on me, grinding her crotch on my legs and proceeding to spill her entire drink - at least I hope it was her drink - in my lap, leaving my dress saturated for the rest of the evening. This incident left me feeling objectified and violated, like she’d used me as a prop to get a laugh out of because I use a wheelchair.

[Alt Text] A vertical-aligned poster with a green and orange patterned background. Taped to the centre of the poster is a large polaroid-style photo of a white woman’s hand with dark green fingernails holding a large red padlock with a chain coming off it. There is also a smaller black padlock below. Both locks are affixed to a metallic blue surface, presumably a door. On the bottom right hand corner of the poster is the Equal Lives logo - Equal Lives is written in blue text, with a tagline written in purple - Free from disabling barriers. There are 3 orange birds flying into the air above the writing.

Disappointingly, a member of security staff witnessed the incident, did nothing and continued to allow the woman to hang around the lowered bar. I spoke to the staff member afterwards, and although she was compassionate that I was soaked, she didn’t seem to take what had happened seriously.

I hate that this is now something I must be emotionally prepared for while at future events, in addition to all the other potential scenarios. It is an ongoing effort for me to not catastrophise ahead of events, because experience has shown me that I can never rely on having a ‘normal’ experience.

When I fed my experiences of Festival 2 back to their access team, they took it seriously, responding swiftly and compassionated, confirming they would liaise with those involved and ensuring the staff are better briefed for future incidents. They also offered me two complimentary tickets to an event of theirs of my choice next summer.

I’m staying on the rollercoaster

It may be an emotional rollercoaster attempting to enjoy live music as a Disabled person, but I will never stop trying!

The feeling of being surrounded by other Disabled live music fans is one of the purest states of joy for me these days. No one is scrutinising one another’s movements or asking personal questions. We are all there to have a good time, and we all know what it is like to face barriers at every turn. We may live with different flavours of disability, but we share a mutual understanding that cultivates a level of care I rarely see elsewhere.

There is also a special kind of love I have for loved ones who just get it; the friends who check the access situation before telling me about the event, who are not afraid to ask security staff questions about access, the petite friends that are ready to fight drunk people who don’t respect my personal space, and the friends that keep inviting me to things even though I’m almost never well enough to attend!

My simply being there at these events - being a regular person, engaging in adult behaviours like other festival goers, and dancing (in my wheelchair), among friends - is important for non-disabled people to witness. People need to see Disabled people being ordinary.

To any event organisers out there who may read this blog: if you’re hosting a big event, you should be working with a paid access consultant, and organisations like Attitude is Everything, to iron out access issues months ahead of the event. It is not the job of Disabled attendees to raise these issues after attending. We have better things to be doing with our time!

Written by Arianne at Equal Lives