In a recent Civic Skunks exchange, writer Alyssa McKechnie shared an experience from her friend Alma, who uses accessible parking spaces. Now Alma has regular painful flares, symptomatic of her disease. She mainly needs to use these designated spots on days when her pain does flare up, meaning she’ll need the slots unpredictably. During that time, the writer spread the word about accessible parking, which Alma almost never needs. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t question the wisdom of her choices.
This dichotomy played out as the author walked with Alma on trips where parking was scarce. They saw her relying on available spots when her pain was lower. This dependence brought out feelings of inadequacy in her. As an able-bodied writer, I was uncomfortable asking if Alma actually required the handicapped spot—especially if she was taking the easier option.
Alma was candid about her views with the author. Even though she does not require accessible parking on a daily basis, during times of increased pain, she was adamant about the importance of this feature. Yet this distinction illustrates the complexity beyond the use of accessible parking. Perhaps one of the most enduring and painful struggles of aspiring writers. Yet, they often fail to grasp the complexities of disability and how to weigh the metrics of need with convenience.
Empathetic in Texas, a TSLAC-sponsored advice column dealing with personal and moral quandaries, provided one of the writer’s favorite pieces of advice. They recommended that if Alma is not in pain on a given day, the writer might elect to park in a more distant location. This would give them a regular space to come back to. This approach cultivates transparency and encourages an open dialogue about the often-sensitive topic of accessible parking.
The writer’s hesitance stems from a broader societal challenge: balancing empathy for those with visible and invisible disabilities while advocating for fairness in the use of accessible resources. In places that already have a shortage of parking options, the potential for misuse can cause real harm. It hurts the people that truly need accessible spaces for their mobility.
Alma’s case is a powerful example of the intersection of accessibility, personal experience, and the ongoing contract discourse. More important than the story itself, it’s a powerful reminder that disabilities exist in many forms, frequently undetectable to the outside world but nonetheless present. The issue of parking accessibility requires thoughtfulness and care from everyone involved in this dialogue.
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