The physical accessibility of UMBC’s campus has long been criticized by students and staff alike. Due to the nature of the location, the entire campus is on a hill, and this means that to get to 90% of buildings on campus, you’ll be using stairs at least once or twice. For those in good shape, and who are able to use stairs no problem, it poses a minor inconvenience. However, for anyone else, it is a large obstacle, which becomes worse when you add in the time constraints between classes. If a student has 2 classes back to back, they need to use almost all the intermittent time to get to their next classroom. From personal experience, this usually results in being tired and sweaty upon arrive, which makes sitting in the classroom for the next hour uncomfortable. On top of this, commuter parking lots are far away from any classroom, and require quite the trek.
    Recently, UMBC removed their free hour that had previously existed to allow everyone to have lunch at a relaxed pace. Now, classes can run straight through this time, meaning some students are forced to eat an early or late lunch. But if you’re like me and commute from 30 to 60 minutes away, and have back to back classes, this means that you could be going without food for 6 hours or more depending on your schedule. This is the situation I found myself in this semester. I had 3 classes back to back, and couldn’t take them at any other time, because it would increase the number of days I would have to commute, and thus the amount of time wasted driving (as well as money spent for gas) that I could use to study or work or do anything else. You could argue that I had the choice of schedule, so the issue I faced was one of my own design, but there are many situations where schedule choices are slim, and thus necessitate tight schedules like this one. A choice that saves a broke college student significant money and time is no choice at all, and I don’t have the funds to justify comfortable scheduling over efficiency. After my first class, I’d have to walk across the whole campus from the top of the hill to the bottom to get food, eat within 5 minutes or less, and then run to my next class which was back at the top of the hill. I could simply skip lunch, but then I’d be starving for the next two periods, which would distract me, and prevent me from being as attentive in the lecture as I could be. Even with my rushed travel, I still came to class late, anywhere from 5-15 minutes. And of course, after having eaten quickly, and then exercising a good bit, I’d feel nauseous. But I’m physically abled. For someone who can’t run or get around quickly, or who needs to use the elevators and take the indirect, lengthy, after-thought of an “accessible” path, they’d either have to come to class significantly late, or not eat. Which is not a choice that students should have to make.

    Physical accessibility at UMBC doesn’t concern a minority, it concerns all of us. We all stand to gain from more accessible infrastructure and scheduling. While there are limitations to what can be changed since the campus is already built, and budgets that must be worked around, I pay a lot of money to attend school here. A new stadium is cool, but it doesn’t solve the more pressing issues of parking, and campus accessibility, ones that would significantly improve both my and others time here on campus.

Mia Mingus’ piece on Access Intimacy describes a sense of comfort brought about when you and a stranger share an indescribable bond that stems from an unspoken understanding of each other’s needs. Interestingly, the people you have the closest bonds with don’t have to share your access needs for you to have strong access intimacy.

From personal experience, I find this to be true. One of the people I feel most comfortable about discussing transness with is actually a cis friend of mine. Sure, other trans people will have access intimacy with me by default, but for whatever reason, this friend is able to meet and then surpass this implicit understanding. It hurt to loose many friends and family over something that made me happier about myself. But it was almost equally euphoric when people I hadn’t thought would be accepting actually were. That sensation was a physical reaction to feeling those sudden changes in access intimacy. Oh, you’re already super supportive of others in my group? Oh you’re closeted yourself and you’re happy you have someone to talk to now? A lot of these interactions made it much easier to deal with the negative ones. An argument I hear a lot is that you can never truly understand someone’s lived experience, and this frustrates me when it’s used as an excuse to avoid trying, because a lot of the time, the person who experienced it may not truly understand it themselves. Just last week, I realized that when I was made to feel socially uncomfortable by my male peers as a kid, I was really experiencing dysphoria. This revelation was only made possible by years of personal growth and reflection. So, no, you don’t need to truly understand to try. To support them. To listen to them. To appreciate them. Empathy goes a long way. I believe that empathy is a large factor in fostering access intimacy between people who don’t share circumstances, and those that do.

Animal Crossing’s popularity at the start of lockdown was no surprise. As people struggled to interact with others, having a peaceful game that involved becoming friends with your neighbors and meeting new people helped to make the quarantine a little less difficult. The parasocial interactions the game provided were comforting.

Activism has many tactics that can be effective, but I’d argue that one of the most important tools for movements is the media. Politicians ignored the 504 protests when it was only on San Francisco news stations, but once it went national, they had to cave to the pressure. I think the primary reason that Crip Camp begins it’s documentary with footage of the camp is for the opportunity for parasocial interaction to occur between the viewers and the campers. Part of why good representation for minorities of any kind is important is that people partially form their opinions of these groups through parasocial interaction in the media they consume. The campers are humanized in the documentary, and treated with respect, and so those who don’t know many disabled people may have their opinions of them changed while watching. 

Back to lockdown, I think that now more than ever, good representation in the media is vital to activist movements. Without the opportunity to socialize as we once did, there are less chances for people even in diverse areas to meet and learn about people who are different from them. Stereotypes are sometimes dismissed as harmless jokes, but even if people know that they don’t reflect reality, interacting with them enough will subconsciously color one’s perception, or at the very least create negative associations. Defining “good” representation is difficult, and is likely something that should be determined by those involved with movements that would be invested in the positive representation of their group. 

TW: Alcohol, Depression, Transphobia

My body is a temple, or 
at least that’s what I used 

to think. Anxiety over poison
disappeared with my patience, 

I don’t need it to feel numb,
but I like the way it tastes

Bitter, and hides in my bloodstream
Like I hide from my problems
Like I hide from her illness
Like I hide from his pain
Like I hide from his 

Embrace. What would he have done
If I hadn’t been there

And even though I’m not there 
for myself

He looks up to me and asks 
his future as if my word was gospel 

I’m unable to clock out because 
I smiled 

for too long and dried out my concrete face
But someone has taken this body like a sculptor

And carved meaning from the cracks
And shown me the beauty hiding underneath

She was able to turn herself 
from stone to mud

So I became clay
And was determined to rebuild
my temple

Context:
My younger brother and I are both trans. Our parents are tolerant but kinda pretend we’re not trans, or at least, seem to think that we can play the part of their son and daughter for their sake while we’re at home. I went a couple years without really getting to talk to my brother much, and only learned this year that he was also trans, since he spends most of his time at home, while I spend most of my time away from home, partially because I try to hide from difficult conversations and want to avoid conflict. I haven’t been entirely kind to my body, and I am far more concerned about my weight than I should be. I used to be a very religious kid, and also had an incredibly strong aversion to alcohol, since my grandfather is an awful person, and an alcoholic, I didn’t want to become like him. However, this year, I started to get over this aversion, only to find that the effects of alcohol weren’t all that different from how I feel usually, especially with the sleep deprivation factored in. It’s hard to feel emotions, and the only thing I really have is the constant happiness I perform for the sake of: my dad who is under enormous mental and physical stress from his job, my mom since her illness may become chronic, and my brother so he can see a future for himself. The emotional labor of essentially acting happy 24/7 is exhausting, and when I finally get a break, I’m too used to performing to stop. My partner is my inspiration, because she has struggled with similar problems in her life. I was with her as she found a way to make it all bearable over the course of years. She always makes sure to remind me of my worth, and when I’m with her, it’s almost as if the numbness goes away. She helps me feel good about my body, and it’s especially appreciated during this time of my life where I feel like I have little control, and I’m unable to physically transition. I look forward to the day that I’m able to shape my own body, but until then, I’ll try to stay positive, for my own sake, and for those I love, who depend on me.