By the end of New Student Week, it was clear to me that Carleton has an accessibility issue. I don’t expect to be able to enter every interest house, but it feels pretty obvious that required events shouldn’t be held in Eugster House when there is no way to get in without using stairs. I have a genetic condition that makes walking difficult and often painful; I particularly struggle with stairs. These days, I mostly manage fine. I use a cane and walk up ramps when I can. I knew Carleton wasn’t the best place for me physically, but I wanted to come here. In my first six weeks, I’ve often found myself wondering if I was too naive. 

Most minorities face a senseless constructed inequality. xenophobia and racism are the result of man-made social structures inflicted on minority populations. In these cases, equality requires cultural change, structural change and reparative support. 

While I, as a physically disabled person, certainly struggle with inequality, the most pressing sources of that inequality aren’t born from bigotry. Instead, I am primarily repressed by the limits of my own body. If cultural norms, societal systems, and systemic damage were somehow fixed tomorrow, I would not have “equality;” I would still be unable to participate in the same activities as my peers, and I would still be in pain. 

I say this not to compare different experiences of struggle, but to explain why conversations about supporting disabled students at Carleton are different from the same discussions concerning other minority groups. 

I think most students would agree that Carleton has a responsibility to support students who belong to oppressed identity groups and to address the cultural and structural factors that could dissuade [JUMP] those minority students from attending Carleton. Addressing constructed inequality is the fair and moral thing to do. A bigoted culture or targeted restrictions on student expression are unfair to the affected students, but is a steep path unfair just because I can’t walk up it while my peers can? I don’t think many people would consider it Carleton’s responsibility to flatten every hill on campus. 

Carleton is pretty much Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA)-compliant, but it is not accessible. There are opportunities and activities that I can not attend without causing myself pain. I’ve had one day so far where I’ve had to use a wheelchair to move around campus. On that day, I had to rely on friends and strangers to get to class, get food and get into my dorm. Even then, I missed part of my class, ended up having to skip lunch and spent five minutes stuck in a sidewalk crack. I imagine it will be even harder in the winter.

This is why Carleton has so few physically disabled students. The college doesn’t reject students because of their disabilities, but when a prospective student with mobility issues comes to Carleton’s campus, we look around and usually realize that Carleton is not suited to physically meet our needs. So most people like me would choose to go somewhere else. A disproportionate number of physically disabled students decide not to go to college at all. 

Physically disabled people like me have to learn how to avoid spaces that we won’t be able to successfully navigate. Exclusion is inherent to our daily lives. Most high schoolers wouldn’t apply for a college with a more demanding workload than they could handle, and most disabled high schoolers don’t apply to colleges that demand a higher level of ability than they have. So, very few physically disabled students apply, and consequently, the school is not forced to reckon with the insufficient accessibility structure. Even for those of us who are here, we tend not to complain. Being disabled means getting used to being limited, and knowing what we signed up for when we came here. 

Given that Carleton’s lack of accessibility and support discourages physically disabled students from attending and alienates those of us who are here, should the college work to become more accessible and create robust support systems? Legally, Carleton doesn’t have to appeal to us. A STEM school shouldn’t have to create systems that would appeal to students in the arts. A school in California shouldn’t have to accommodate students who don’t like heat. Still, doesn’t it feel wrong to know that Carleton discourages physically disabled students from applying? Does that fit with what the college claims to represent?

Carleton doesn’t have to be more accessible, but in the short time I’ve been on this campus, I’ve overwhelmingly seen that the people here want it to be. The proactive support of students, teachers, staff members and especially the Office of Accessibility Resources (OAR) staff shows that Carleton is a place that wants to make room for students like me. At the same time, the meeting rooms in the OAR are on a second floor with no elevator access, and the wheelchair door-open buttons sometimes stop working in the cold. I’m constantly inundated with little messages that maybe I’m not able-bodied enough to belong here, but I don’t think the people that make up Carleton want to send that message. 

New Student Week wasn’t planned with disabled students in mind, but my student group leader was able to plan for a cart to drive me through the Arb so I could plant my tree. There is no elevator in the chapel, but I am able to go to Wednesday folk singing because two students I’d never met before have offered to carry me up the stairs. Our security staff didn’t have robust guidelines for handling a mobility crisis, but when I called security for help after a fall, a security officer found a rolling chair for me to sit on so he could push me to class. All of my professors have gone out of their way to be encouraging and accommodating as I struggled to manage my disabilities alone in this new setting.

I am so thankful for all this support, but these community values need to be reflected in campus architecture, defined policy, robust support systems and more visible prioritization of accessibility. It’s not possible for Carleton to give me the same college experience as an able-bodied student, but I can be given more dependable accommodations. A supportive community of helpful individuals is not sufficient accommodation. I wish more people like me could come here, and I think the communities I’ve found here want to welcome us, but we won’t come until a more visible effort is made.