Reflections on access and identity.
Understanding access needs through self-identification.
On a recent trip to visit my in-laws, my partner and I had a layover in Seattle. I was looking forward to visiting Seattle again for a couple of reasons. One, it’s a vibrant city that feels like the best parts of Vancouver and Toronto mixed together. And two, I knew that Seattle’s airport is part of the sunflower lanyard program and I was eager to try it out.
The hidden disabilities sunflower lanyard program is a growing initiative to help support folks with less apparent disabilities. Sunflower lanyards discreetly signal to airport staff that the wearer, or a person in the group, has a less apparent disability and might need more support and patience.
I found myself excited yet hesitant on what could happen when I put on the lanyard.
Worst case scenario: I’m treated with the same kind of overwhelming rushed feeling of having to follow strict rules and demands. While also managing the sensory pain of the bright lights, machine hums, and busy bodies around me.
Best case scenario: The airport staff are friendlier. They give me more space and time. Maybe they smile.
What happened what a mix of both.
Cropped selfie wearing the hidden disabilities sunflower lanyard. The camera lens is close in, framing the lanyard on my torso. The lanyard is green decorated with sunflowers of different sizes. There’s a card clipped to the end of the lanyard with the hidden disabilities branding.
Sometimes I got the awkward look of, “Oh I should know what that means but I don’t remember, so I’ll just go about my job as usual.”
Other times, I felt like I was being taken care of. I was greeted and directed to the queue for families and people with disabilities. No questions asked.
Complexities of self-identification
I came away from this experience feeling a lot of things.
Most of all, I felt exhausted. It’s sad we need to self-identify to justify our access needs. Everyone should be welcome. Everyone deserves a smile. Everyone is worthy and deserving of respect regardless of label.
Self-identification is a vulnerability with no guarantee. Putting ourselves out there by wearing the lanyard is a big deal. And if our needs aren’t met, then we might be even more let down then had we not self-identified.
I think this is a common experience for a lot of disabled people, especially those with less apparent disabilities. Often it takes less spoons (and comes with less risk) to support ourselves than it is to educate and dismantle attitudinal barriers. This is something we usually learn the hard way.
Inclusion through flexible communication
When I reflect on my experiences with self-identification, one area that stands out is communication.
Communication differences are common in the neurodivergent community. Many neurodivergent people have been taught that our communication and social skills are impaired. We aren’t flawed though. We just communicate differently.
Here are some ways we could be more inclusive of different communication needs:
Allow time for different information processing speeds. If there is a pause in conversation, try not to fill it. This is especially true if you’re waiting on an answer to a question.
Say exactly what you mean. Avoid hinting or implying information. Clear communication isn’t always rude or passive aggressive.
Offer flexibility in communication types. Written, audio, visual, etc. Preferences might vary depending on the task, activity, or environment.
Encourage optional social interaction to social events. Better yet, offer multiple ways folks can interact and engage that doesn’t require in-person attendance.
These are just some ways we can approach communication a bit differently in our relationships. If you’re ever unsure of the best approach to take, I have 2 suggestions: offer options and always ask.
Art by Leanna Marie Manning. Pencil crayon bilateral drawing in shades of green. Variegated philodendron leaves are draping over it, framing the line work.
Things I like
Sonny Jane Wise’s book We’re All Neurodiverse. While exploring the intersections of neurodivergence, disability, gender, sexuality, and race, Sonny Jane writes about how to build a neurodiversity-affirming future and challenge neuronormativity.
Tina Friml’s comedy (opens YouTube video). Tina talks about what it’s like to be disabled, declaring she doesn’t suffer from cerebral palsy. She has cerebral palsy—and suffers from people.
April is adenomyosis awareness month. Even though adenomyosis was first encountered in 1860 and recognized as a disease in 1962, it remains “mysterious” today. I quote “mysterious” because of persistent medical gaslighting and discrimination. Canadian journalist Tracey Lindeman covers this extensively in her incredible book Bleed.
The University of Guelph’s accessibility conference. I’m giving a talk on crafting accessible digital content for neurodivergent audiences—come join! It’s a virtual session on Wednesday, May 29th.
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