Phenomenology Field Research

The gym is such an interesting place from an academic’s point of view, as each person experiences it differently. So as a fem-presenting disabled person, I decided to do some field research in regards to the gym  (aka I needed an excuse to suck it up and go) So off I went in my wheelchair, leg braces in tow to get some walking practice in. As I arrive at the RAC, I am greeted by the out of order door opener!! What a great start… way to encourage disabled people to be active. I got some (a lot of) stares, because disabled people being active is outside of the norm to which people perceive. Where I see opportunity, and things I can do and adapt, able-bodied people see what I can’t do, and get all surprised when I do something outside of their idea of what disabled people are capable of. To me, I was just minding my business working out, but to others, I may have been perceived as inspirational or extraordinary simply because of phenomenology. What I experience and the people around me experience are two totally different things. Going to the gym is normal for me, whereas its not “normal” to see a disabled person in the gym for many able bodied people, making it seem out of place in how they experience the world. I also experience gym equipment differently, and it is evident that those who designed the gym and it’s equipment designed it from their own experience. For starters, there was a hand cycle in the gym (think of a stationary bike, but with the pedals at about shoulder height, a photo will be attatched) At least the gym had one, but that is not without faults. A wheelchair user like myself needs to a) transfer onto the seat on the machine and b) have enough lower body and core strength to balance on the seat. As someone that is ambulatory, it is not an issue for my own lived experience, but to someone else it very well may be. The hand grips also require a LOT of hand strength to hold onto, and I found it to be quite difficult. There are hand cycles out there that a wheelchair user can roll up to, and I just wish that was the case at the RAC. There were also no tactile buttons, braille or a headphone jack for audio instructions on ANY of the machines throughout the gym, making it so someone that does not experience vision cannot use the machines unassisted. I think learning about the concept of phenomenology is something that a lot of people that design gyms and other spaces should learn about. How you experience things is not the same as others for so many reasons, whether that be race, trauma, upbringing and ability. Growing up I was told to “put myself into the shoes of others” and that is the very basics of phenomenology, which gets built upon by looking into factors that I mentioned previously. Understanding how another person may feel is great, but understanding how someone may experience your creation, words or actions is a great step to bettering the world. Rather than connecting to course materials in the form of articles, I decided to conduct some field research to apply the overarching concept of the course so far: phenomenology. It felt fitting considering phenomenology is all about experiencing the world, and I think that it was a success!

Depiction of a man seated on a stationary hand cycle with the upper arm muscles colored in red.

“F*ck your disorder”

Photo by Darya Sannikova on Pexels.com

A few weeks ago I had a difficult bipolar/autistic meltdown that spiraled me into a dissociative state. I say bipolar slash autistic because the criteria and symptoms for both disorders overlap so much that it is nearly impossible to tell them apart within my own body at this point.  I wasn’t able to attend some of my classes for two weeks because my mental state was feeling immensely guilty about using my accommodations. Every time I typed up another email to a professor, saying that I once again had to rely on my disability accommodations, I felt my chest tighten with anxiety and guilt, as if I was doing something wrong by needing my accommodations. I didn’t want my professors to think that I was lying to get out of class to go out with my friends. To be fair I did hang out with my friends and try and do stuff during the time I had class, but everything we did was an attempt to pull me out of the dissociative state I was in. As someone who has heard numerous times that they don’t look “autistic” or “disabled”, I am aware that this is a judgment that many pass on me, and I was aware that my professors may think that as well. Perhaps out of guilt, I sent an email to my professors, explaining that I had bipolar disorder and was struggling to pull myself out of a rough episode that left me unable to even read and comprehend the readings for any of my classes. Most of my professors answered with supportive statements, validating my disability and granting me as many extensions as I needed. One professor emailed me back, ignoring the fact that I had just opened up to him about my identity, and demanded I turn in my work within 48 hours, because the accommodation guidelines offered a 48 hour extension as an example guideline. Evidently, I was not able to get my work in, because I am not able to pull myself out of a dissociative episode on command; to make it worse, when I finally returned to class the following week he spoke negatively about bipolar disorder in class, leaving me stunned and panicked. I made the rather obvious assumption that I wasn’t his favorite student. Rather than fighting with him every step of the way, I decided to withdraw from the class, postponing my graduation from this December to May. I was devastated telling my parents that I would not be graduating as soon as they thought, and I was even embarrassed, knowing that if I pushed myself I could have made it through the class. But just because you can do something as a disabled person, doesn’t mean it is worth it. I was reminded in a somewhat blunt manner that not everyone will accommodate your disability, and sometimes it’s better to give up, then to fight for your right to take a class. 

The emotional labour it would have taken for me to fight with this professor every step of the way, just to most likely pass with a C in his class was not worth it for me. Personally, I am proud of myself for knowing my boundaries and how far I can push myself. He made me feel weak and made me hyperaware of how people view me as someone who is bipolar and on the sepctrum. 

Subtle ableism is so present in today’s world that it goes unnoticed by most, unless we are directly affected by it. For me, this was an example of direct ableism, someone who would do the bare minimum to accommodate my needs, and refused to do anything more. It was dehumanizing, but it also reminded me how lucky I am to not be faced with people like him, and ableist challenges on a daily basis. Our world was not made for disabled bodies, whether it’s expectations at work, to campuses being not accessible, to the general population applying certain stigmas to disabled people as a whole. As a physically abled person who is usually able to mask their disability in public, I don’t have to constantly worry how I will make it to class on time, or if the elevator will work today, or if I will be able to make it up the hill to my building for class, and that gives me a certain privilege. The dialectic of both being disabled and abled is an interesting limbo to live in. I can’t imagine how it would be if I had to worry about physical disability on top of my ever present mental disability, still, I can’t help but wonder if I would have been treated better by that professor if my disability had been more visible.

What does it mean to be Accessible?

Accessibility is such an umbrella term for so many things- be it mental health, our physical bodies, learning, etc. According to Webster dictionary, it isn’t until we hit the fifth bullet point for it to say, “easily used or accessed by people with disabilities adapted for use by people with disabilities”. I don’t know about you, but that still doesn’t narrow it down for me.

Building an accessible product : our journey so far
Image of what pops up when you look up “accessibility” [Image of five subsections of different categories of accessibility. Cognitive, Visual, Auditory, Motor, Speech.]

Is Our Campus Allergic to Accesibility?

I am an able-bodied person. I take advantage of this fact every day of my life as I walk around campus. At times I get winded or my legs hurt, but for the most part, I have no trouble walking to my classes, the dining hall, or common spaces on campus. As such, it is not immediately obvious to me and other able-bodied people around me how inaccessible this campus is. Every single one of my daily routes involves stairs. I hate them, but I can climb them. This is not the case for everyone on campus.

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