I GOT ROBBED ON THE TRAIN — BUT I STILL HAVE FAITH IN CITIES

I DON’T CONDONE CRIME, BUT I ALSO DO NOT CONDONE THE DEMONIZING OF CITIES AND THE DIVERSE PEOPLE THAT POWER THEM

Perhaps I was a victim of a crime ring that feeds drug habits and worse.

Or maybe my assailants were so pushed aside by society that thievery was a means to feeding family or paying for basic shelter.

I don’t condone crime, but I also do not condone the demonizing of cities and the diverse people that power them.

Cities, warts and all, are historically where our forebears settled, scratched out a living and created a life better for each succeeding generation.

They are the future of a strong and diverse nation.

I GOT ROBBED ON THE TRAIN — BUT I STILL HAVE FAITH IN CITIES

I DON’T CONDONE CRIME, BUT I ALSO DO NOT CONDONE THE DEMONIZING OF CITIES AND THE DIVERSE PEOPLE THAT POWER THEM

I have worked in the disability space – as a caregiver, educator and advocate – for four decades.

I have witnessed first hand the economic struggles of people with disabilities, who, according to U.S. Labor statistics, are the most under- and unemployed of all minority groups.

I know that the wealth of cities includes space for diverse people, as well as robust transit to job opportunities for people with a wide range of mobility needs.

More than two years since being victimized in Paris, I remain convinced that ableism and exclusion do more damage to our cities and society than the most hardened criminals.

I firmly believe that in these polarized times, we must embrace environmental justice while addressing systemic exclusion that causes crime.

I GOT ROBBED ON THE TRAIN — BUT I STILL HAVE FAITH IN CITIES

I DON’T CONDONE CRIME, BUT I ALSO DO NOT CONDONE THE DEMONIZING OF CITIES AND THE DIVERSE PEOPLE THAT POWER THEM

Unable to sleep because of severe concussion symptoms, I wondered how the violent crime would impact me.

Would I, a longtime urban dweller and planner, sour on cities?

Would my progressive politics shift?

No, quite the opposite.

My belief in diversity and how big cities support diverse people is unshaken.

Not that long ago, people who used wheelchairs were barred from mainstream institutions and hauled off to “special” schools.

They had to fight to attend college.

To this day, 34 years after the passage of the landmark Americans with Disabilities Act, less than one percent of housing in the U.S. is accessible to wheelchair users.

Otherwise intelligent people pejoratively label the liberating use of a mobility device as being “confined to a wheelchair.”

I GOT ROBBED ON THE TRAIN — BUT I STILL HAVE FAITH IN CITIES

I DON’T CONDONE CRIME, BUT I ALSO DO NOT CONDONE THE DEMONIZING OF CITIES AND THE DIVERSE PEOPLE THAT POWER THEM

It was ironic that I was in town to give a speech at the 58^th International Making Cities Livable Conference.

My presentation was on sidewalks and transit and connectivity that makes life livable for all people — and especially those who use wheelchairs for mobility.

I have expertise and personal passion for Universal Design because for three decades; I was the direct caregiver to a person who used a power wheelchair for mobility.

I was the Diversity, Equity and Inclusivity guy.

I GOT ROBBED ON THE TRAIN — BUT I STILL HAVE FAITH IN CITIES

I DON’T CONDONE CRIME, BUT I ALSO DO NOT CONDONE THE DEMONIZING OF CITIES AND THE DIVERSE PEOPLE THAT POWER THEM

I was reeling from a robbery and beating.

Did my head, thumping with what would turn out to be a concussion, turn to thoughts of vengeance? 

Sure, for a brief period.

But after completing a police report – and being told gangs that do this are never caught – I started thinking about the big picture.

I love cities, feel they are safe and am even willing to suffer injury and financial loss to keep immersing myself in them.

I GOT ROBBED ON THE TRAIN — BUT I STILL HAVE FAITH IN CITIES

I DON’T CONDONE CRIME, BUT I ALSO DO NOT CONDONE THE DEMONIZING OF CITIES AND THE DIVERSE PEOPLE THAT POWER THEM

Lately, all eyes have been focused on the Paris Olympics and anticipating the Paralympics.

But just a few years ago, I experienced the dark side of the City of Light.

I was hustling to change from the RER train for Charles de Gaulle Airport to the Metro M6 to reach my hotel on Place Italie.

Groggy-eyed, suitcase-wheeling and just-arrived staring at the Metro map, I was an easy mark.

Waiting for an English-speaking detective, I started canceling credit cards and closing a now exposed bank account.

I GOT ROBBED ON THE TRAIN — BUT I STILL HAVE FAITH IN CITIES

I DON’T CONDONE CRIME, BUT I ALSO DO NOT CONDONE THE DEMONIZING OF CITIES AND THE DIVERSE PEOPLE THAT POWER THEM

A traveler’s worst nightmare?

Three men — all less than half my age — crashed into me just as the subway doors were closing.

Shoved, I banged my head on one the poles for standing riders to grasp and fell forward in pain.

Even though I was blindsided and injured, my first thought was to pat my right hip.

Sure enough, the wallet I forgot to hide in my book bag was gone – and with it, more than $500 in cash, all my credit cards and my identification. 

Dear Wheelchair: We Need to Talk

FROM THE EARTH BOUND TOM BOY FILES

By Heidi Johnson-Wright

Dear Wheelchair:

 

We need to talk. Yes, I know: no conversation in history starting off that way ever ended well. But there are some things we need to hash out.

 

We’ve been together nearly half a decade. Wow, that’s significant. Five years is the length of cohabitation most health insurance policies require before a chair user can get a new chair. Not that I’m in the market for another, dear. I’m just sayin’…

 

Now, babe, don’t cry. Need some reassurance? You are amazing at giving me my own space. I mean, you are the opposite of clingy. Of course, I would expect nothing less from someone named Torque Storm. Not exactly the moniker of a clinging vine.

 

But sometimes you’re just a little too laissez–faire. I’ve got an image to uphold, you know. People see a gimp girl in a wheelchair and they immediately assume I’m “wheelchair bound.” (Stop snickering. The B&D of our private life is nobody’s business.) They’re convinced that we’re perpetually fused together. That I shower in you, sleep in you. That I never transfer out of you into a theater seat. Can you imagine what they’d say if they saw me taking a few steps with my walker? Good God, the fallout that would cause. 

 

This affects your image, too, you know. You and your progenitors have established your reputation as symbols of failure, as prisons on wheels. What would they say if it leaked out that you’re really enablers, huh? Enablers of mobility, of freedom…of independence, even! What if I went to the press and told them the truth: that I never would have gotten an education, made a career or left the dang house without you in my life? Two can play at that game, my friend.

 

Come on now, baby. I didn’t mean to be cruel. You know you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. So what if you’re not my first, or even my fifth? So what if my chair throughout college cradled my backside like no other? It didn’t mean anything. It was nothing compared to what we have. We’re going to be together forever, just you wait and see.

 

Or at least until insurance says I can roll you to the curb.