Like most students, I have experienced both epic and disastrous nights out, irrespective of my disability. However, I believe it would also be extremely naïve of me to argue that being in a wheelchair has no impact on my nightlife experiences. From facilities available (and their condition), to the attitudes and expectations of people around, there are a number of factors which influence the experiences of disabled people on nights out. I’m hoping to raise awareness around some of these influences, so that certain improvements might be made – both structurally and socially – when it comes to socialising with people who aren’t able-bodied.
I am Jenny, a medical student in my fourth year. I have a spinal cord injury meaning I am paralysed from the chest down and have been for about six and a half years now. I love going out with friends, having a few drinks and a bit of a boogie. I am especially partial to a Fruity Friday! Despite this, I do think I would put myself out there more socially if it were not for my disability. I cannot count the number of times I have been pushed backwards out of my chair after being fallen onto in the middle of the dancefloor. Or, alternatively, being squished completely between such a crowd of people that I have absolutely nowhere to go, never mind dance (I know this can happen to anyone but when you’re half the height of nearly everyone else it can be terrifying and extremely claustrophobic). This makes me quite dependent on my friends on a night out, and always conscious of becoming a burden. I sometimes find myself making excuses for my lack of attendance.
What’s more, wheelchair users aren’t the only ones who feel this way. Fin, an economics student with cerebral palsy, stated “a lot of clubs aren’t accessible at all or require a lift to enter which isn’t always working”. For me, it isn’t only the issue of lifts not working. To get to the Fruity dancefloor, I have to use a minimum of three lifts. This could be reduced to just one if the Union allowed students with disabilities to use the back entrance leading to the smoking area to enter; a bouncer once made me cry because he wouldn’t let me leave this way and it had been an emotional night. Toilets are also an issue. If a club has a disabled toilet, it is a huge bonus, however more often than not they are out of order or covered in vomit. The Beaverworks disabled toilet has had a broken lock for as long as I can remember. These physical problems amount to me lacking independence on a night out, which causes a lot of anxiety for me.
“I cannot count the number of times I have been pushed backwards out of my chair in the middle of the dancefloor”
Now please don’t get me wrong, I love how accepting my friends are of my disability and how ready they are to pick me up off the floor, fight their way through the crowds and come to my defence at the flick of a switch. I’m so lucky to have them. Yet, I do regret that this is something they have to do for me. I also recognise that this is very unlikely to change anytime soon because clubs massively oversell tickets in order to create the claustrophobic atmosphere most people know and love. I’m always shocked by how random members of the public feel it is appropriate to comment on how “inspirational” or “amazing” I am for making it out, as though having a disability should mean I am somehow less capable of achieving a social life. Fin described this behaviour as patronising, stating “whilst this doesn’t impact me, it can be very detrimental to a disabled person’s mental health, making them feel inferior. It may be cliché, but disabled people are people too and only want to be treated the same as everyone else as much as possible.” I feel very similarly to Fin in this respect: it is very rare that I am personally offended by people’s comments, however it would be nice if a little more thought went into how a comment may come across to someone just trying to enjoy the same experiences as everyone else. Just because my disability is visible does not mean it needs to be spoken about.
Now, onto bouncers: sometimes lovely, often horrible. The majority of the time, staff at clubs are helpful and considerate, however I have had more than a few negative experiences, like the time at Fruity where a bouncer nearly broke down the door of the disabled toilet because I was taking too long – try pulling up your trousers without the use of your legs when slightly inebriated and tell me it’s a quick process. Another example was at Headrow House, where I was practically shouted off the premises for wheeling the wrong side of the barrier because the gap on the other side was too small for me to pass through (I’ve never been back). Domino Jazz Club denied me entry because I would be a “fire hazard” – I don’t even have words for how humiliating this was. However, like I said, most club staff are more than willing to help – shoutout to the bouncer at HiFi who restored my faith in their kind by lifting me down the stairs safely so I was able to party with my able-bodied pals.
“Domino Jazz Club denied me entry because I would be a “fire hazard” – I don’t even have words for how humiliating this was”
In summary, none of these issues I have mentioned will stop me going out and having a good time with friends (when we are finally allowed to again!), even if some things make it a little harder for me, Fin and the countless other students at Leeds with both physical and mental health issues. I hope next time you encounter someone with a disability on a night out, you think a little more about our feelings and perspectives.
Header image via Grotto Network