Accessbility, Environmental Possibilism, and the Future of Plymouth

Thirty-two years ago – in 1994 – I sat on the lawn of the White House and celebrated the fourth anniversary of the signing of the Americans with Disabilities Act into law. At that time, we knew the world would not change overnight. We knew that advocacy would need to continue for the “shameful wall of exclusion” (as President George H.W. Bush described disability discrimination when he signed the legislation) to come tumbling down. But we also knew that being recognized with major civil rights legislation would designate us as a bona fide minority population and raise public awareness. And while most of the public does not understand the scope of the ADA, most do recognize that it represents rights for disabled people.

Fast forward about 20 years. My husband and I were searching for a spiritual community in Lawrence. We saw the invitation in the LJW to attend Christmas services at Plymouth and, impressed with the social involvement of Plymouth in the community, we thought we’d give it a try. We arrived at the candlelight service and were seated at the rear of the seating area. It was a lovely service with beautiful music but as I am a wheelchair user and my husband is a short-statured person, we could see none of it when the congregation stood—we saw people’s backs. After being segregated, however unintentionally, at the back of the church, we decided Plymouth was not for us. Forty years of involvement in the disability movement had raised our expectations to not just be present in a setting but to have choices and to be visible.

Fast forward another five years. We were still interested in Plymouth and decided to try again. Since the only seating options were the front or back rows, we insisted on sitting up front where we had an unobstructed view of the chancel. There were some minor hiccups—e.g., being told that fire laws prevented us from sitting up front--but we continued to insist and things worked out. We appreciated past efforts that had made many facility features accessible (entrance ramps, elevator, restrooms, etc.)  and we felt welcome as members. Through our presence, we tried to demonstrate that the expectations of disabled people to be integrated have changed and that the back row as the only seating choice was unacceptable.

Now, the issue is accessibility to areas that have not accommodated many people with mobility limitations in the past; specifically, the chancel. This is important due to our aging society in which more people are living longer lives and staying active in the community, albeit with some limitations due to advanced age.

But access is also critical due to the “ADA generation.” This is the generation that has grown up under the protection of the 1990 ADA and whose disabled members expect the full access and community participation that they were promised under multiple pieces of legislation, including the ADA, Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act, the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, and the Help America Vote Act. Disabled members of the ADA generation and those coming after gained accommodation in education, unlike previous generations like mine. They subscribe to the social model of disability which regards disability as a natural aspect of the human condition. This generation of disabled people were typically mainstreamed in schools with their peers, instead of being segregated in separate schools or classrooms, thus experiencing inclusion early on in life and modeling it for their classmates. They expect to be fully visible and participatory in American life, even if it can be uncomfortable for others to observe their differences.

Because of these expectations, I believe that the concept of environmental possibilism, which presents the environment as offering a range of possibilities, versus environmental determinism, is relevant here. Environmental possibilism acknowledges the influence of the environment on human activities but also recognizes that choices can be made and that unique adaptations can be devised to meet current needs, despite environmental constraints. I suggest that this concept is particularly relevant in the case of our historic building, which is cherished due to its history but has been adapted in the past and needs further adaptation to accommodate current and future users.

So, in this context, I ask some questions:

• Given Plymouth’s longstanding support of social justice movements, how does the congregation support and model that support for disabled people and the disability rights movement?

• What are we called to do as a congregation to embrace populations that have historically been excluded and segregated?

• How will decisions made now regarding accessibility meet the evolving and future expectations of disabled people, and make them fully welcome, not just to be present but to fully participate?

• Would the installation of a lift in the background versus a fully visible ramp relay the unintentional impression that disabled people should not be visible as they move about space?

• What might happen in the future if a minister using a wheelchair were to be called?

As a wheelchair user, I much prefer a ramp versus a lift. I say this as a New England native, where historic structures are highly valued, and with the understanding that accessibility modifications often disrupt what we are accustomed to. My expertise is based on my participation in the disability rights movement, my career as a researcher on health promotion and community living for disabled people, and my lived experience with a disability since birth.  In my life, adaptive environments have made it possible for me to live, work, play, participate, recreate, worship and, indeed, survive. The presence of a ramp tells me that everyone’s needs have been considered and that all are fully welcome. Also, ramps are not subject to mechanical breakdowns.

Plymouth is making a significant investment in building preservation and accessibility. The question is, do we bite the bullet now and install a ramp or do we kick the can down the road and leave it to a future capital campaign?  Martin Luther King wrote about another civil rights movement in his Letter from Birmingham Jail, saying “wait has almost always meant never.”

Understanding that installation of a ramp would represent a momentous change at Plymouth, I still hope that the decision is not “never.”

Dot Nary, PhD

Retired, Assistant Research Professor

University of Kansas

Plymouth Church member