How Travel Helped Me Challenge My Internalized Ableism

“You need to treat my brother like a person.”   

I remember my little sister screaming at a security guard as if it were yesterday. Our family was visiting a castle in Ireland dating from the 1400s, and needless to say, the accessibility was less than ideal. My sister’s scream of rage was the last thing I heard as my parents whisked me upstairs, moments after being expressly told not to do so.   

Having CP and being blessed to be part of a family that can travel the world means that you learn quickly that the Middle Ages were not the high point of accessibility. By the time my sister was in college, we were all used to occasionally breaking the rules and climbing a few forbidden staircases.   

In my mind that scene looked like something out of The Three Stooges. Yet, my sister’s admonishment spoiled the fun. And I think I’m finally beginning to understand why.   

As a history nerd, there is something oddly spiritual about exploring a new city and being in the places where major historical events occurred. Also, as you’ve probably guessed by now, I’ve never been good at breaking the rules by myself. Consequently, when that security guard told us that we could not see more than the entryway to the castle, I was happy to say, “That’s fine, sir, at least I’ll be able to see some of it.”   

Internalized ableism strikes again. What’s worse, I got upset at my sister because I believed she caused a scene. Imagine the weird mix of gratitude, joy and contrition I felt after absconding upstairs to discover that the second floor was the castle’s great hall, and it was adorned with portraits of England’s King Charles II and his many mistresses. My fellow nerds who are fans of historian and TV presenter Lucy Worsley on PBS will know exactly who I’m talking about.   

Looking back on it, I’m still a little ashamed that my impulse was to chide my sister instead of thanking her. I think what really bothered me was that she so clearly and concisely articulated what ableism was, and she did so years before I had even realized it was one of the major forces that shapes my life. So, thanks Sondra. You understood me well before I understood myself.   

I am 34 years old, and I didn’t really make any disabled friends or understand anything about my own disabled identity until I was 28. I didn’t start traveling with my disabled friends until about a year ago. For many years, I always looked forward to my family’s annual trip to Europe. My favorite vacation spots include churches, palaces and opera houses. Europe has all three.  

Unfortunately, that ableist security guard in Ireland was just part of a long line of run-ins with ableism on family trips that has included everything from dealing with hotels that have small or nonexistent elevators to being allocated to the corner table in a restaurant and not being given access to a view of the Mediterranean. The most annoying thing about all of this is I went along with it because I was used to it and I didn’t know any better.    

A trip to Philadelphia for my sister’s graduation turned into another eye-opening experience with ableism. That weekend started off with a happy hour for students and their families. Naturally the bar wasn’t accessible. So, Dad and I happily snuck off to be nerds and tour Independence Hall. There was, however, a slight problem. I could only see half the tour because there was no way to get up to the second floor. It was jarring to realize that the cradle of American democracy was not fully accessible.  

My first international trip with someone else who is disabled helped me see these experiences with ableism and inaccessibility for what they are. Victor and I met through an adult CP support group and quickly bonded over our fondness for jokes based on Dante’s Inferno. What can I say? Weirdos find each other. We had been talking about doing a trip for a long time, so last July we became two gimps “traveling abroad” and set out for London.  

I could safely say that neither of us were prepared for how life-changing this trip would be. Two accessibility highlights stood out. First, every cab has a ramp, and also, drivers know how to operate them. I know being able to operate the accessible vehicle you drive should be a baseline. Trust me, it’s not. Second, ramps are plainly visible in the front of buildings. There was no need to enter restaurants through the kitchen.   

Even Buckingham Palace had a prominent ramp to the main visitor’s entrance. And wheelchair users were ferried across the courtyard in wheelchair-accessible golf carts. Listen, I know accessibility in England is probably far from perfect, but that week Victor and I felt seen in ways that we haven’t back home in the States.  

For both of us, accessibility in London just seemed more prominent and easier to navigate. Judy Heumann once told a reporter that she was tired of being grateful for accessible toilets. That’s what Victor and I loved about London: It was a rare experience in which we didn’t have to worry about ramps or accessible bathrooms. Our basic needs were met, and we could just vacation together as friends do.

My travels in London showed me that inaccessibility doesn’t have to be the norm, and that I have as much right to enjoy historic sites as anyone else. It’s an experience I’ll remember the next time a security guard tells me I can’t explore a castle. Ideally this would not be so revolutionary, but it is.