Disabled people belong in cultural spaces
On fighting to get in the door and be safe
Hello, happy Tuesday!
In the past few weeks, I have been enjoying a little more freedom - getting out and about in London in a way that I haven’t, really, since before the pandemic. And it’s been great. Our non-Valentine’s Day was the most fun I’ve had in ages. It was so nice to be in a museum again; we avoided the half-term hoards by skipping the Egyptian galleries in the British Museum and instead enjoyed all things Sub-Saharan Africa, Shogunate Japan and Ancient Mesopotamia. If you’re a writer or just a lover of words, I really recommend hunting down the section about the birth of writing in Ancient Sumeria; you get a little tingle when you see where it all started.
I so enjoyed being out in London and learning and seeing things that weren’t my own four walls, and the museum felt airy enough to be relatively Covid safe. After two years where disabled people have been shut out of cultural life by the pandemic, it was nice to reclaim my love of history in a public space, out beyond the books that have been keeping me company. The only moment of concern occurred when three unmasked teenagers followed us into a pretty small lift, and I briefly wondered if this was altogether wise.
After the museum, we went for sushi which was delicious (and the restaurant mercifully not crowded) and then on to a recording of the Guilty Feminist podcast, where I pretended not to notice that hardly anyone was wearing a mask.
Anyway, get to the point, Lucy. Which is this: getting accessible tickets to the show was a bit of an ordeal. And not for the first time.