Year of the Tiger, page 10
Here’s my public service announcement to everyone: Stop creating inaccessible media and tech. Stop discriminating against disabled people who have the right to the same information, services, and content as everyone else.
To quote from Hamilton, “I wanna be in the room where it happens.” A free and open internet allows me to be in every boardroom, classroom, homeroom, back room, playroom, and beyond. A free and open internet allows me to take up and hold space unapologetically. A free and open internet allows me to be me. We all deserve to be in the room where it happens.
Internet access is power. This power belongs to everyone, not a handful of corporations.
Excerpt from:
The Last Straw
Eater (July 19, 2018)
I live in the Mission District of San Francisco, where delicious taquerias, bakeries, cafés, and bars are everywhere. And as a disabled person who uses a wheelchair to get around and a ventilator to breathe, the pleasure of eating and drinking is mediated by a number of factors. When I leave my home for a latte or burrito, a number of calculations go through my head: Will the place have its door propped open so I can enter? If the door is closed, will someone exiting or entering open it for me? Is the counter low enough for the server to see me? Can they hear and understand me with the mask over my nose if it’s incredibly noisy inside? Will I be able to sign my name on the touchscreen or receipt, depending on the counter height?
At one of my favorite neighborhood places, Sightglass Coffee, when I make my order I feel comfortable asking for and receiving assistance. I’ll ask the barista to bring my drink to my table since I cannot reach the high counters or carry a full cup. I’ll even ask for help adding sugar when I’m feeling indulgent, because a glass dispenser is too heavy for me to lift. When I’m at any café, two items I always ask for with my drinks are a lid and a plastic straw, emphasis on plastic. Lids prevent spillage when I’m navigating bumpy sidewalks and curb cuts; straws are necessary because I do not have the hand and arm strength to lift a drink and tip it into my mouth. Plastic straws are the best when I drink hot liquids; compostable ones tend to melt or break apart.
It’s not easy or pleasant asking for help in public spaces like restaurants, because you never know what attitudes you’ll encounter: indifference, pity, or outright rejection. I don’t see these types of help as special treatment or inspirational for someone to surreptitiously post on social media as feel-good clickbait; they’re simply examples of excellent hospitality.
Plastic is seen as cheap, “anti-luxury,” wasteful, and harmful to the environment. All true. Plastic is also an essential part of my health and wellness. With my neuromuscular disability, plastic straws are necessary tools for my hydration and nutrition. Currently, plastic single-use straws are the latest target by environmentalists in the move toward zero waste. Major restaurant groups such as Union Square Hospitality Group and companies such as Starbucks and others in the travel industry announced plans to phase out single-use plastics.
Starbucks’s announcement—and the news that Vancouver and Seattle recently banned plastic straws, with other cities, like New York and San Francisco, contemplating proposals—struck a raw nerve with me for several reasons (and I won’t even get into the problems of recyclable plastics and greenwashing):
Plastic straws are considered unnecessary items used by environmentalists as a “gateway plastic” to engage the public in a larger conversation about waste. According to Dune Ives, executive director of the Lonely Whale Foundation, “Plastic straws are social tools and props, the perfect conversation starter.” But one person’s social prop is another person’s conduit for nutrition. It’s as if people who rely on straws—older adults, children, and disabled people—don’t matter and our needs are less important than the environment. I feel erased by these attitudes.
Plastic straws are ubiquitous, whether we like it or not. Once you have something that provides access, it is difficult and harmful to take it away from a marginalized community that depends on it. I live in a world that was never built for me, and every little bit of access is treasured and hard-won. Bans on plastic straws are regressive, not progressive.
The plastic straw ban is symptomatic of larger systemic issues when it comes to the continual struggle for disability rights and justice. The Americans with Disabilities Act turns twenty-eight next week, on July 26, and yet people with disabilities continue to face barriers at eating establishments. The A.D.A. is considered by many small businesses (and the National Restaurant Association) as a source of frivolous lawsuits brought by greedy lawyers and clients. Ableist attitudes that cast disabled people as “fakers” or “complainers” obscure the very real and painful experiences of not being able to eat and drink freely.
As demand increases for alternatives to plastic, so do the voices from the disability community sharing their concerns about how these bans will create additional labor, hurdles, and difficulties. On social media, many disabled people have been sharing their stories and keeping it 100 percent real. I observed and experienced all sorts of microaggressions and outright dismissal of what disabled people are saying online.
People have told me that I still have access to biodegradable straws at Starbucks, despite my reasons for using plastic ones. People have told me to bring my own reusable straws without thinking about the extra work that entails. Why should a disabled customer have to bring something in order to drink while nondisabled people have the convenience and ability to use what is provided for free? This is not just, equitable, or hospitable.
This is the experience of living in a world that was never built for you: having to explain and defend yourself while providing infinite amounts of labor at the demand of people who do not recognize their nondisabled privilege. There are days when I want to put this on repeat: “Believe disabled people. Period.” I refuse to apologize or feel shame about the way my body works and how I navigate the world. Everyone consumes goods and creates waste. We all do what we can to reduce, reuse, and recycle. We should recognize that different needs require different solutions. I’m not a monster for using plastic straws or other plastic items that allow me to live, such as oxygen tubes.
Restaurants are theater; they are also highly politicized, contested spaces. There are times when I go out and the waiter asks my companion for my order instead of me. I’ve gone through creepy, dirty side entrances just to get into a restaurant. I’ve been called “the wheelchair” by front-of-house staff when they commiserate on which table to place me, since I apparently take up too much space. I also love the places where I feel welcomed and respected. As they provide thoughtful and authentic hospitality, I respond by being a loyal customer who appreciates the little touches that make a visit enjoyable.
The ban in Seattle comes with an exemption for people with disabilities, where restaurants can provide plastic straws upon request for medical reasons. This is optional for restaurants, so they may choose not to make any available. What people don’t understand with bans like this is that having to ask for a plastic straw puts an unfair burden and scrutiny on people with disabilities. They should not have to prove a medical need or even disclose their disability status when having a fun night out with friends. This is not hospitality.
So where do we go from here? How can we cultivate accessible and hospitable environments while reducing waste? Until someone invents a compostable straw with the functionality of a plastic one, I have a modest proposal for establishments that have banned plastic straws and those that are considering it:
If you are an establishment with straws at a counter, provide both types, clearly labeled, for people to choose from. If a café or restaurant wants to provide straws by request, have the servers offer plastic and biodegradable versions, just as they would give any customer a choice of still or sparkling water, so as to avoid alienating an entire group. Customers can choose what is best for them.
Reexamine the kinds of plastic you use in your establishment (e.g., plastic wrap, containers) and find additional ways to reduce your consumption.
Expand your ideas about hospitality and accessibility; they are one and the same.
Think about the intentional and unintentional barriers your establishment sets that may keep people from visiting your place. Listen and learn from your customers’ critiques, including disabled customers. Don’t wait for protests or boycotts before engaging with the disability community (I see you, Starbucks).
If cafés can offer four types of milk for espresso drinks and restaurants fifty types of wine and beer, small businesses and large corporations can manage offering two types of straws. The key is to have the same level of access for all items. You can accommodate all your customers while reducing waste at the same time. Customers respond to choice and flexibility.
Because in the end, isn’t it all about welcoming everyone into your space with authentic and inclusive hospitality?
* * *
…
Submitted to the clerk of the board of supervisors, the assistant clerk for the Land Use and Transportation Committee, and the board of supervisors of the City and County of San Francisco
July 31, 2018
Hello, President Cohen and Supervisors Brown, Fewer, Kim, Mandelman, Peskin, Ronen, Safai, Stefani, Tang, and Yee,
My name is Alice Wong. I am a resident of District 9 and a disabled person who uses plastic straws for various drinks when outside of the home. I humbly ask you to vote no on item #29 in today’s agenda.
I may be one of the few people in the city not in favor of the Food Service Waste Reduction Ordinance and I would like to explain why.
The current exemption for people with disabilities in the ordinance is unclear and inadequate: “Strict compliance with this Chapter 16 is not required in instances where it would interfere with accommodating for any person’s medical needs” (page 11, lines 6–7).
What does “strict compliance” mean to businesses? What is the difference between “compliance” and “strict compliance”? Won’t most businesses find this confusing?
The exemption needs additional language requiring businesses to keep plastic straws in stock and available upon request. Without explicitly including this in the ordinance, businesses will have no obligation to provide this option to individuals. Having this language in the implementation plan is not the same.
Regarding the usage of “medical needs” in the ordinance, you are suggesting customers must disclose, explain, or identify their needs in pathological terms? This sets up an expectation by businesses that customers like me must look a certain way or mention a diagnosis of some sort to obtain a plastic straw. Some needs are not apparent. Ideally, any person should receive a plastic straw if requested without scrutiny or skepticism. This is the weakness of an exemption that places hurdles in front of customers that didn’t exist before.
I applaud Supervisor Tang and others who use reusable straws for their favorite drinks. However, there are other people in our community for whom biodegradable and reusable options are hazardous and unhygienic. This is an issue of privilege and equity. Not everyone has a caregiver or dishwasher machine to sanitize these reusable straws. People on limited incomes struggle to buy food and pay rent, let alone purchase an item that used to be widely available. Besides, why should people with disabilities have to bring their own utensils to drink if nondisabled people don’t have to?
Sustainability and zero waste goals should be flexible enough that they don’t come at a cost of excluding marginalized communities. The ordinance in its current form sends a message to older adults and people with disabilities that their access to drinking and nutrition doesn’t matter and that they are *bleep* out of luck if their local café no longer carries plastic straws. My need is not medical, it is due to a lack of access. I urge you to take a step back and revise the ordinance in partnership with community stakeholders who will be adversely impacted if passed.
Sincerely,
Alice Wong
Founder and Director
Disability Visibility Project
* * *
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A photo taken by my friend Allie Cannington of me looking devilish with a coffee cup and a straw at an outdoor café.
August 27, 2018
TO: Supervisor Katy Tang
Ashley Summers, legislative aide to Supervisor Tang
Debbie Raphael, director, S.F. Environment
Nicole Bohn, director, Mayor’s Office on Disability
FROM: Alice Wong
Disabled resident, District 9
RE: FOOD SERVICE WASTE REDUCTION ORDINANCE AMENDMENT
Hello! I enjoyed being on the phone during the disability community stakeholder meeting on August 23. I hope you got a sense of the lived experiences of disabled people and why our usage of plastic straws is tied to our ability to participate in society. At the end of the letter I included additional stories by people with disabilities. Please check them out if you have time.
Here are a few elements I would like to see in Supervisor Tang’s amendment in a revised exemption:
All food service providers must be required to make plastic straws available upon request. Without this requirement, providers can opt out and effectively exclude parts of the disability community.
Replace the words medical needs with access needs in the amendment and in any signage created by S.F. Environment for food service providers.
There must be parallel access to straws. The key is not to add a new hurdle for people with disabilities who need them. For example, if a café has compostable straws by request only, the same goes for plastic ones. If a café leaves a stack available at the counter, the same for plastic ones.
Clear signage by food service providers on the availability of plastic straws if they are by request only.
Include clear guidelines in the amendment to food service providers that people requesting plastic straws do not need to identify, disclose, or prove their disability. Just ask and they’ll get one, no questions asked. This should be included in any signage, media campaign, or guidance by S.F. Environment.
As a next step, perhaps you could host another stakeholder meeting with more specifics about the amendment before the next Land Use Committee hearing on this issue? We need to have ample notice to prepare our public comments before any hearing. We deserve to see how much of our expertise and input appears in the proposed amendment.
After all, what is the point of participating in listening sessions if we cannot influence policy that directly impacts us?
Respectfully,
Alice Wong
Disabled activist, lover of coffee, and Mission District resident
Excerpt from:
Ode to a Spit Cup
Body Talk: 37 Voices Explore Our Radical Anatomy (edited by Kelly Jensen)
Spit. Drool. Saliva. Our bodies secrete this clear liquid every day, up to two liters a day. Depending on your hydration, diet, medication, and other factors, saliva can be watery, sticky, bubbly, and infused with whatever is in your mouth at the moment. Bodily fluids can be endlessly fascinating, and I developed a brand-new respect for saliva because of my increased difficulty with swallowing.
I consider my power chair an extension of my body. It is part of my personal space and sense of self. In the last few years, I gained another bodily extension: my spit cup.
What is a spit cup? Very simply, it’s a cup I keep nearby so I can spit my saliva rather than swallowing it. I was born with a neuromuscular disability, meaning all my muscles progressively weaken. Over time, the direction of my body’s trajectory has always headed downward, its pace unknown. I stopped walking around the age of seven and developed severe scoliosis that required a spinal fusion surgery at fourteen years old. Complications after this surgery added new concerns on top of lack of mobility. As my diaphragm muscles weakened, being able to sleep and breathe became a major issue. I had breathing treatments with a nebulizer and intermittent positive pressure breathing machine, used oxygen at night, and other interventions that kept me going until I developed respiratory failure at eighteen years old. With severe sleep apnea, I needed to sleep at night with a BiPap machine or else I could die from respiratory failure.
I can still swallow, but it’s actually quite tiring over a single day. The spit cup provides a shortcut and a way to preempt possible aspiration in case things go down the wrong pipe. My spit cup has become my new friend, a brilliant adaptation, and a source of wonderment.
I’m now hyperaware of two interconnected bodily functions: my ability to breathe and swallow. Previously, breathing was the top priority. I continue to fear the tremendous toll getting sick with the flu took on my body as I tried to cough out my secretions. I still worry about the amount of battery life on my BiPap machine when I am out for a long time or during a power outage. Whenever I eat a full meal, I cannot talk or breathe comfortably. Through all these concerns and changes, I adapted. I reduced my exposure to crowds during flu seasons. When I needed my BiPap the entire day, I got the machine connected to my wheelchair battery for extended life. I changed my diet and focused on high-fat, high-protein meals to make the most out of every bite. I scheduled smaller meals and snacks to lessen the feeling of distension.
