Concert equality example

Why is it not fair to assume that those that need accessibility seats at concerts have the same chance of getting tickets for a show than those that don’t. The answer is it’s simply not true.

On top of the fact that disabled people, who need accessibility seats, are massively limited in where they can sit in a venue and they can only go with one person. Is the fact that there isn’t as many tickets available to them as non-disabled people. In fact the numbers are dramatically different, I’ve worked out an example to show you.

I did some rough maths (I can’t do the actual figures because of course they hide them) to show you just have few accessible seats there are at the AO Arena as one example.

They’re 4 blocks in the ao arena which have accessible seating. There’s roughly 650 seats per block. I took one block and then rounded down as they’re are smaller blocks. So if every seat in the AO arenas 4 blocks was accessible, which it clearly isn’t they’d be 2600 seats for disabled people. To match the roughly 20% of disabled people in society (the figures actually 24% of people are disabled but not everyone’s going to go to a concert) this means to match the capacity of the arena they’re should be 4600 accessible seats. Split across the blocks they’re should be 13 blocks of completely accessible seating. And if you think there’s ever that you never been to a music venue. Usually maybe 30 seats in a block are accessible split across the 4 blocks that’s 120 seats because I guessed let’s say 200 give them the benefit of the doubt. Still nowhere near the 4600 there should be.

And yes I know it’s not perfect. They hide the figures so disabled people don’t have exact numbers to prove to you all how unfair it actually is. And not all disabled people are going to need access tickets. But even with these rough figures the AO arena has less than 5% of the amount of accessible tickets it should have to reflect the percentage of disabled people in society.

Having us in the room is not equality, it is not the equity we deserve. We deserve to have the same number of tickets available to us as non-disabled people do. We deserve to have fun, we deserve to have friends, we deserve to have fun with our friends.

The little things matter.

Tonight I went to go see Noah Kahan and it was at a venue that was so much more accessible than last time I went to see him, and that made all the difference.

Of course if I’m honest I still wanted to be in the crowd. But at least this way I could see and I could still feel part of it all.

Disabled people deserve to have fun in environments where there disability doesn’t have a negative impact.

I have included a video below which shows the difference between the two views I had, so you can see what the difference is.

Please please please design and choose your venues with disabled people in mind. We like to have fun too!

Music.

Which activities make you lose track of time?

Given this is a backdated post it seems like a perfect opportunity to talk about something called Maladaptive Daydreaming.

If you click the link it’ll Explain more about it, but essentially it is harmful and unconcontrolable daydreaming. This is something that I have done for as long as I can remember, and is definitely an activity that makes me lose track of time the most.

It is characterised by very vivid and repeated Daydreaming scenarios. They might play on a loop, and can triggered by TV or real-life events, or it can just happen.

While it is not yet a recognised medical condition, this doesn’t mean it isn’t a medical condition. Only that medical science has yet to catch up with the condition, and I hope this changes one day. As it is one I certainly believe I have.

If you read the link at the top of this page I’d be happy to answer any questions you might have.

But to answer this question I would have to say that alongside listening to music which often triggers me, sleeping, or just scrolling can make me loose track of time as well. How about you?

Concert fears.

So tonight I’m going to another concert, and when you do this as a wheelchair user it always comes with a level of anxiety, especially when I go to a new venue.

Concerts are an odd experience for me, the music can help me feel free and part of a group, while the environment can make me feel more disabled than any other environment. It’s always hit and miss.

This is a concert I’ve been to before, and last time it was amazing, but my experience was helped massively by the venue. By the fact I could go in the crowd with everyone else, and be near the front.

The last thing I want is to be at the back, I’d rather be in the crowd and unable to see, rather than in some special area. In the past I’ve been in this area and unable to see anyway. The area isn’t really about me being safe, it’s about protecting the venue from being sued in anyway and I hate being in it.

But this time I know in advance that I will have to be in it, which I’ll admit it is better than not knowing. However it’s still causing me a great deal of anxiety. I’m hoping the experience will be worth the stress that venues place on me because of my disability. But this isn’t something I will know until I get there, but I can live in hope for a good experience right.

Wish me look.

Truly accessible concerts

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.

Well at least your in the building #2

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?

To good to be true.

I shouldn’t complain really because thankfully I’ve had help to fix it. But I had to pee on myself today, of all days.

I don’t think I can explain how much this artist means to me. How much it means for me to able to see them.

They were the exception that proved the rule. They were the ones I was willing to suffer in an inaccessible world just to be able to see.

Your music is life.

Thank you.

I wish I wasn’t disabled for 30 seconds.

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.

Concert day anxiety.

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.

Concert drama.

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.