For a cornucopia of social-issues posts, check out the Blogging Against Disablism Day blogfest. I’m running behind on my own contributions, but I wanted to talk for a minute here about dumb architecture. Not merely bad in the sense of ‘ugly’, for I must grudgingly admit that ugliness is in the eye of the beholder. But dumb as in ‘doesn’t work’. Buildings that don’t meet the needs of the people who use them. Or would use them, if only they were useful.
What stuns me is not that there was a time when buildings were not made to be wheelchair-accessible. There was, after all, a time when wheelchairs, like indoor plumbing, just weren’t a significant part of most people’s lives. Would have been nice to have such conveniences, but you didn’t. Too bad. The architecture of those eras reflect that, and retro-fits to modernize can be a bit clumsy. (But worth it! In both cases!)
But I am continually amazed that we don’t, as a society, seem to have caught on to the bit about how people — all people — ought to be able to get in and out of a building, and even move around in it. I’m reminded of when I lived in a little ground-floor room in Paris and that had a window that let out onto a courtyard. I hosted a party at the end of the school year, and fully expected that my guests, if they wanted to relax on the grass outside, would simply climb through the window. I was stunned to discover that not everyone includes climbing through windows as part of their traveling repertoire.
But I was young then. I was not an architect, not even a builder. My assumption that anyone (among my guests, who were all walking-around kinds of people) could and would climb through windows was naive and a bit self-centered. I assumed that if I could do something, everyone else could, too. Somehow you would think that building professionals would have grown passed that point.
I am fortunate to live in a home that was designed to be moderately wheelchair accessible. Not perfectly so, but better than average. One of the previous owners did a few renovations to make it even better. And the sordid truth? It isn’t that big of a deal. Any grown-up who has, say, studied architecture, ought to be able to whip out fairly accessible homes without too much difficulty. There’s nothing really magical about it.
[Tuning a building to the precise needs of a particular individual or family? Yes. That takes some doing. But being able to get far enough into the ballpark that the residents can easily take it the rest of the way? Not nearly so hard. ]
And curiously, I think that defaulting to accessible architecture would bring down construction costs. Here’s why: in order to make a home wheelchair-friendly, you can’t crowd it up with a bunch of built-ins. And built-ins — cabinets, counters, shelves, drawers, even closets and extraneous doors — these are things that drive up cost.
So why aren’t modern American homes built to a default level of accessibility? It isn’t a lack of space — our homes are larger now, on average, than they were fifty years ago, and have fewer residents. It isn’t that everything goes to two stories, and it’s just so hard to make a two-story home accessible. If that were the case, a) single-story homes *would* default to accessible design, and b) two-story homes would still have an accessible first floor. (After all, even if I don’t have a ground-floor bedroom for my wheelchair-using visitor, it sure is nice for that person to at least be able to *get in front the door*.)
So I’ve got to assume a sort of perpetual adolescence on the part of our building industry. Not surprising in a culture that worships youth and beauty and vigor — I’ve known people with gray hair and grandchildren to openly deny they were ‘old’. So I suppose if you are going to great lengths to fight any appearance of mortality or even maturity, intentionally purchasing a wheelchair-accessible home isn’t going to help you keep up the facade. And for a builder, suggesting someone might actually want such a building some day is going to about as popular as my letting slip to my gray-haired companion that no, she was not actually all that young anymore.
It’s a sad kind of denial. As I rode through the countryside yesterday on the way home from a family reunion, I was myself a little surprised at how many homes had a ramp tacked on to the front. More informative than riding through the city, because in the country you aren’t likely to move when your house doesn’t fit your needs anymore, you just try to adjust your house as best you can.
Not the end of the world — a slapped-together plywood monstrosity of a ramp isn’t particularly attractive, but as I said, this post isn’t about beauty. Look inside our family farmhouse, and the bathroom — converted from a bedroom, I think — betrays that same problem of The Home That Had To Be Brought Into the Present.
But there reaches a point when you’ve got to lose patience with builders and architects who are still building for Some Other Era. Be a grown-up, builders. What you build, people *will* buy — most of us haven’t got a choice but to purchase what is on the market. It falls to you to lead. Recognize that humans are frail, mortal. That not everyone can climb through the window. And it just isn’t a good building if people can’t use it.
Yes. This.
I have a custom-adapted wheelchair accessible house. But none of my neighbors’ houses are even close, so I can’t go up and ring their doorbell if I need want to visit, or even drop a note in their mailboxes.
It’s very isolating.
And besides, having at least one ground-level 36-inch wide door with a ramp makes it a heck of a lot easier for anybody to move in the sofa and the refrigerator, come moving day.
Even when it’s pretty good, it’s not great. You’d do better to rap on the kitchen window at my house than bother with the doorbell.
But stepping outside to do a quick survey: I think mine is the only house you could get inside of without having to do a construction project — a couple would work with BYO ramp, most are up a good 4-6 stairs. Even the 1-story ranches. And the only flat entrance on my place is through the garage. (SuperHusband can get in and out of all the entrances in a manual chair, and I can do most of them — he is stronger and more skilled than me. But if you need flat, garage it is.)
***
I’m glad you made the refrigerator comment. I sound so shallow when I say it, but to me the #1 beneficiary of most of the wheelchair-access features on buildings are mothers with little children. Not the intended beneficiary, and yet, numerically the most common user, and in practice highly, highly appreciative.
All of which only compounds the mystery.
I, too, do not understand this: there should not be any NEW houses/buildings built that are not accessible – it should be just that simple. But it isn’t. :sigh:
It’s bizarre. Went out looking at houses yesterday. Was heartened driving through one neighborhood to see that a lot of the homes were built with very manageable entries.
Stopped in at a model home. Sales lady asks what my requirements would be in a new home. I mention wheelchair access. No problem, she assures me, all homes designed with this as an option. So then she goes to show me a house. And I look at the first-floor bathroom she just told me would be very easy to convert per a standard option . . . the door is tiny.
Um, why? Why make a house that has to be torn apart? Is it so hard to use less drywall and more door??
Argh. This from the ‘enlightened’ builder??
Wacky.
The ADA has lobbied for so many changes, this should be an “easy” one. Hmm.
My grandparents had a similar experience with bathrooms- they needed a hotel with handicap accessible bathrooms, and they found one that claimed such. “It has just been remodeled, you’ll love it!”
Yeah… the *inside* of the bathroom had been remodeled with all of the necessary bars, etc, but the door was not wide enough for her wheelchair. Totally worthless.
My house is a nightmare for handicap accessibility. It would take an intricate system of stair lifts to adapt it.
Craziness.
I was going to write about this, from the perspective of one who doesn’t need adaptations, but who could well have guests round who do, and who would also like a ground-floor bathroom and a wide entrance to help on moving day. I agree wholeheartedly with what you are saying – excellent post!
Abi – do it!
I think part of the problem is that schools for designers STILL aren’t teaching even the most basic concepts of universal design. Or at least they don’t seem to be in the UK, and I suspect it is probably the same in the US and elsewhere.
There’s a whole discussion thread on accessible artichtecture at the “BBC Ouch” discussion board at
http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/mbouch/F2322273?thread=6531779
initiated by a student still learning how to design things. Her special interest is in accessible design, but apparently, although her teachers are fine with her turning her class projects into projects focused on access, they haven’t been very helpful in pointing her toward appropriate reading materials or anything else that could get her started in really re-thinking standard design from an accessibility view point. She apparently hadn’t even heard of “universal design”!!! And this, a student in architecture!
I think before we will really start to see more homes and other private spaces become truly accessible (or at least, far easier and cheaper to adapt) we have to persuade all the design schools (or maybe even require them by law) to incorporate basic universal design concepts throughout their curriculums, and require all artichects to be familiar with accessibility issues before they can be licensed. (Actually I don’t even know if they have to have a license to work but if they do that’d be one approach) Existing designers could be temporarily exempt but would need to take a certain number of Continuing Education Unit courses, conferences, or other training within say five years in order to keep their license. (If they do have licenses, that is.)
You know, I’m generally against legislating changes like this… which leaves it to capitalism. And there may be the issue, yeah? There’s not enough demand to push the schools/companies/etc to respond to it.
Which is unfortunate. I’d have to guess that the desire and need and demand is there, but “silent” in a way. Either you find a way to work around an accessibility problem, or you don’t do it at all. *sigh*
Although, there was an article yesterday in my local paper about making houses “netzero” on things like energy and waste. I picked up on a specific bit that said they’re building them- at great cost- to make them *more* affordable. I’m not sure how that works, but that seems to be the way to do this, too.
Andrea, I think you are right. I was looking through Habitat for Humanity’s _How to Build a House_ book the other night. They mention a few blurbs on accessibility, but don’t actually include construction instructions. Fine Homebuilding runs some articles every now and then, and one of the industry publishers has a good book out on quality design . . . but it is such a “new” topic.
Anna, I’m with you. It shouldn’t have to require legislation, since for me from a business perspective it seems like such a no-brainer. And yet, there it is. Meantime I think maybe embarrassing people might be a good response. Like I should have told that sweet sales girl at the model home how laughably inaccessible the ‘adaptable’ home was, rather than inwardly shaking my head and groaning.
Jen.