A bad experience at a concert can really through me, and that’s what happened last night.
If you want to know more specifics about the experience you can see the TikTok I made here. A poor inaccessible experience, and that’s putting it lightly, throws the entire image I have of myself as a disabled person into question.
It makes me wonder why I even try, if I’m just going to be treated like that. It makes me wonder why I even try. It makes me feel more disabled.
It shows me without a doubt that it’s society that makes me disabled, and that makes me sad. It makes me sad because I know there’s nothing I can really do about the way they want to treat me.
I just want to enjoy a concert. I don’t understand why that’s to much to ask.
When the wheelchair accessibility of a venue is so rubbish but they won’t let me leave without making my carer leave to who likes who we were supposed to see as well so you end up sitting in the corner watching How I Met Your Mother. This is why I go everywhere prepared to sit alone in the corner 😂😢
Image Description: picture of a clip from How I Met Your Mother on a phone, showing Lily and Marshall the captions read “there occurred a game-changing emergency.”
Make of this what you will. May or may not explain more later.
I’m not going to say that it bothers me when you do things I can’t do, but it does bother me.
Something are just accessible to me. even when they’re supposed to have accessible options, they just don’t, that is just a part of my life. And when that comes up like it did today, of course I’m going to say that it’s okay with me if you still do whatever it is. It really isn’t. But I’m not gonna be the reason that you don’t experience something. I’m going to minimise as much as I can how much my disability impacts what you are able to do. I’m the disabled one, not you.
But it’s going to upset me that I can’t be part of the experience. I’ve learnt though to keep those feelings quiet, to not make everything about the fact that I can’t be a part of it. I’m not sure it’s ever going to get to the point where it doesn’t bother me though. But I’m sure I’ll get better at hiding it.
The biggest problem here, other than the lack of accessibility, which should always be seen as the primary problem. Is the way I deal with this, emotionally. Logically, I know that something not being accessible to me is not my fault, but emotions make difficult. w
I would be lying if I said that it didn’t cross my mind that if I weren’t disabled, I would be able to have the experience. That I am the problem, not the world around me. And even though I have spent my entire life disabled, I know and understand internalised ableism very well. That me being the problem feels too much like the truth, that every time I fall for it, even just a little bit. And I have to convince my brain it’s wrong.
When I look at this without emotion it is obvious that my brain is wrong. It is obvious that I cannot and should not be blamed for the inaccessibility in the world me. I didn’t choose to be disabled and I didn’t create the world the way that it exists. I just live in it the same as you, the same as anyone else. This guilt, shouldn’t really be mine to take. And yet every time I start by making myself take it, and going backwards from there.
I’m hoping that eventually I will learn not to blame myself so much for things that are not my fault. That I will learn not to blame myself for feelings that I cannot control. That I will be able to validate my own feelings the way I validate others, because I deserve that same treatment and care. But I honestly don’t know that I’ll ever get there.
So last night I went to another concerts and in contrast to my experience at my last concert, this one was very accessibility.
Image Description: Shows my hands and the person I was with touching the barrier at the concert.
While some others people at the concert didn’t like it that I was there and took up a bit more room, I honestly don’t care. I deserve to be there and take up space.
I was not a danger to anyone there as I have been previously told I am. My safety and there safety wasn’t compromised. Maybe this would be the case in a heavy metal concert, but dokt worry I just won’t be going to those.
This was a life-changing experience for me, not only the concert, but to simply truly be part of a crowd of people. Concerts are about more than music.
I just want to be able to experience concerts like everyone else, and I don’t think that’s too much to ask for. I just wish it wasn’t so hit and miss as to whether I get to feel truly included in experiences just because I’m disabled.
This post is a part two of sorts to my previous post written before I the main act of the show I attended had come on stage, you can find that post by clicking on the link here.
The video to the left shows a Tiktok I created documenting this experience.
Now that I sit here after the show, I want to say more about how this actually felt. As I said in my previous post, at the time I wanted to ignore how I felt and focus on the experience of the concert, I am very glad I was able to do that. While it was definitely worth it to see one of my favourite artists, I have to admit the experience was still a difficult one for me.
The reality of attending concerts for me is a very emotional experience. Sometimes, though rarely it can go extremely well, most of the time, it doesn’t go the way I imagined. I can only think of one instance in all the concerts I have attended that I completely enjoyed the whole experience and didn’t feel like the accessibility of the venue got in my way. Most of memories of concerts are tainted by the inacessible I experienced.
I am not talking about whether or not I can see the stage necessarily, or even how close I am to it, though that can be a factor. What really gets in the way of my experiencing a concert is the elements that I have to do differently because of my disability. Whether I have to go in a different enterance, or be in a different section, though it’s usually both. In part I always feel like this ruins a small part of the experience. Depending on how bad the experience on the night is, sometimes it can feel like it ruins the whole show, though thankfully this wasn’t the case last night. That said if I am honest with myself, it was in part ruined by the access, just not completely, so I guess that’s something.
It’s a shame really, because for me music itself is a very unifying tool. It is one of the only parts of society that I feel I am able to access the same way as everyone else, to be blunt I feel normal when I’m lost in the music. So it really is sad to me that concerts can often have the opposite effect on me. That they can often make me feel more disabled, more segragated from the rest of the world. All I really want is to be able to experience concerts the same way as non-disabled people do, as part of the group, as a person.
I am not nieve sometimes, like last night, it is the building itself that stops me from being able to have this experience. In these instances I woild argue that the concert should move to a different venue, but some would say that I am being selfish for saying this. It’s weird being disabled sometimes, being told that I’m selfish for wanting what everyone else has, is it really to much to ask?
As I wrote this entry, I had to stop myself from blaming myself for being disabled, rather than the building I was in for being inaccesaible to me. Growing up disabled you learn from society that you are the problem, and while logically I know this isn’t true, it is really hard to escape from these feelings. Especially when society says that you don’t deserve to be a part of all it’s elements, like fun.
I don’t see it changing anytime soon. In a society that only just about thinks we deserve to live in it, and not if they think we might have to change it in any way for us to be included, true inclusion just seems unlikely. It just doesn’t feel like I matter enough for anyone to want me there, I’m to much of a hazzard for them, I am simply to much work. But hey, at least I’m in the building right?
I just want to be able to move up the bed, without ending up in pain and breathless. I just want a little comfort.
My pain has sucked today, and I’m worried because tomorrow is a very important day for me.
I’m going to a concert; someone I’ve looked forward to seeing for years. Someone who I always said would be my exception to never going to concerts. I need my body to play ball, please.
I had a great experience at last night concert, surprisingly.
I’m not sure if I will ever get used to having a positive experience at a concert. This was lovely.
I actually got to go slightly in front of the barrier, so this was probably the only time at a concert where I’ve actually had a clear direct view of the artists on the stage.
My view is usually blocked if not by people, which is expected, then by the height of the barrier. But this time was great.
I honestly don’t think that it’s too much to expect to be able to see the artist at a show you’ve paid for. But some people seem to think it is when you’re disabled.
That said I would rather be part of the crowd than in a separate area any day of the week. Though there are rare occasions that this can have advantages, this is very dependent on the venue.
Last night I slept for 12 hours so I feel ready for the concert I’ve got this evening. But knowing my luck I’ll be tired by the time actually comes around. Sometimes my own body doesn’t want to make fun accessible to me.
Though my body is not my biggest concern on a concert day. I feel better once I’m in the building and I know no one is going to try to make me leave. It’ll be worth it I know it will be, but there’s a lot of anxiety involved in going to a concert for me.
I really want to see that it baffles me that society hasn’t thought of the need to make concerts accessible to disabled people. But in order to say that I would have to be naive and forget that he just doesn’t care about disabled people. We’re not allowed to have fun.
I really just wish having fun was more accessible, it’s always so complicated, and has so many moving parts. So many that I find myself unable to deal with them and leave sorting the accessible to the person that goes with me. I just got too angry to see it with a clear head. I can’t get past the fact that it shouldn’t be this complicated to go to concerts if you are in a wheelchair. That when the venue itself is accessible, there’s no need to make it as hard as many venues do.
That said, I hope this will be a fun experience. And I actually get to meet the artist (hopefully), which makes it even better. When I say hopefully I do have a ticket to meet the artist, but whether they will actually let me do that is another question. I’ve never done this before so I’m slightly nervous that my disability might make this complicated as well. Or I should say that the venue will use my disability to make this more complicated. But I hope it will go well.
The reality is I don’t know how this will go until I am there. So I will just have to wait and see. And try to focus on the best part of all of this, the music.
I love music. It is a tool that makes me feel part of society, mostly. I feel the same as the others who listen to it. It’s only when I go to concerts that things can get complicated. But music itself is the least complicated way for me to be part of society.
I know I’m lucky to have problems with going to concerts as a disabled person. As that means I’m in the position to both financially and physically to be able to try and figure out how to get myself to a concert. But in the accessible world that we live in this doesn’t make it easy.
One of the caveats of going to a concert if you are disabled person is too alert the venue that you will be going to that you are disabled. But this is not a straightforward as it seems.
There is often unlimited number of spaces for those in wheelchairs or with other disabilities. Sometimes, depending on the venue, this can actually make sense. But more often than not numbers are limited to make things easier for a venue. To ensure that they take a box in the best way for them, rather for concertgoers.
What really bothers me personally is the fact that venues will not allow myself to go in the general admission area when it is accessible to me. They simply say no. I am a health and safety risk.
They don’t actually care about my health and safety or anyone else’s health and safety. They simply do not want to get into trouble if someone were to hurt themselves on my wheelchair. Honestly, that feels like a them problem. But they insist on it making it a me problem.
This is even harder when I don’t feel disabled despite how disabled I may look. I don’t want to go in the special area. I’d rather be in the general admission area and not be able to see then be in the special area with a perfect view. I want the proper concert experience and I think that I deserve that. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for. Don’t even get me started on the special treatment that some disabled concert viewers believe they deserve. I’m not talking about the separate area. I understand why some people might need that. That’s why I think it should be an option, not a necessity. But someone interrupted perfect view, as if that is realistic of a concert. I’m not just really annoys me.
The process of getting accessibility arrangements for a concert can feel like you’re asking of venues permission to attend. Something that disabled would have to do.
For this reason and for the idIocracy of the system, I tried to stay out of the finer details of organising my access to concerts. I really hate it. I know that I’m going to get too angry at the whole thing and not be able to deal with it properly and sensibly.
Concerts are a polarised experience for me. They even make me feel completely included and part of society in a way I don’t feel anywhere else. or extremely disabled, very in the way as I don’t belong there at all. There seems to be no middle ground. And yet I keep going because I want the good experiences. I deserve the good experiences, I think.
As I write this post there is a chance I may not be able to go to an upcoming concert that I already have tickets and VIP meet and greet for. This is due to aforementioned bizarre system of accessibility. I’m honestly trying not to think about it because I really want to go to this concert. And I’ll be heartbroken if I can’t.
Anyone reading this that may think disabled people get things for free because of schemes like companion tickets. If you’d rather deal with the things I have to deal with in order to get the free tickets you’d be welcome. I would swap in heartbeat. I would trade all cheaper tickets I’ve ever ever got just to attend concerts as a normal person. I just want to sing and dance.
I’m looking to go to another show. I recognise the privileged position I am in, that I can consider going to shows. That I have the money, time and the physical health and ability to do so. But every single time I do this I’m reminded of how disabled I am.
The extra steps I have to take, to get one of the limited number of wheelchair spaces at at a venue, this venue has four. And not knowing which of these steps this specific venue wants me to take.
I can’t just buy the ticket on generally sale. I have to first know if the venue is accessible, and then if I need to buy another ticket or if the person who’s support I need at concerts is able to get a companion ticket. I then need to know whether the ticket needs to be bought from the venue website or from the standard ticket sale site.
I don’t want less steps, I want the same amount of steps. This is accessibility.
Now there are many reasons that concerts are inaccessibility to me. So once I’ve bought a ticket, doesn’t mean I’ll have a great time when I go. It feels like my disability is every, like it touches everything, and it does. Even even concerts. Even music.
My freedom is yet again tainted by my disability. More, by the inaccessibility of the world around me.
But I keep trying, I’m going to do my best to keep trying, to go to the show. To be an active part of the world around me. And not just feel stuck and forced to live in it. Concerts and shows help me with this, if they go well. If the experience goes well that is, if it goes badly the opposite happens. But I can but try.
My Inaccessible Life 