Because inaccessibility over time equals . . . what, exactly? It’s more than a string of inconveniences. It’s more powerful than a missing ramp here and an elevator there. (Although, good lord, I am grateful for every ramp and elevator I see. Always.) My experience of inaccessibility is cumulative. It’s more than a line of targets to knock down. It’s a way of being in the world, or just outside of the world. It’s a blaring message on a loudspeaker to tune out. An ideology to survive.
