The fuzzy boundaries of accessibility

This is a thing that i've been thinking about since a couple of conversations with friends (both multiply-impaired, i.e. both neurodivergent and with physical/mobility impairments) about accessible and inaccessible venues: what are the boundaries of the concept of "accessibility"?

Since moving to a new city a month ago (more on which in an upcoming "personal update" post, if/when i get round to writing it), i've decided to firm up my policy of boycotting inaccessible event venues: i don't want to give money to events or buildings that my friends who have different or additional impairments to me couldn't get into. However, while this *looks* simple (at a superficial first glance), if you dig even a little deeper, all sorts of ambiguities arise...

The first friend, who is a performer/activist within the disability arts and disability rights movements, and who is a wheelchair user (mostly for pain and fatigue reasons) but can walk (a group/category who are very often erased in "mainstream" discussions about disability, with it being assumed either that they don't exist or that they are "fakers", with the assumption seemingly being that there could be no legitimate reason for using a wheelchair if one can walk at all - which feeds into stuff about assistive technology that's also been on my mind and will probably be the subject of a post soon), said that ze has a strict policy of not performing at "inaccessible" venues, but sometimes hirself goes to events that are in venues without full step-free access. This surprised me a bit and led to some interesting musings on concepts like "martyrdom" and "self-denial", as well as the comment (paraphrased) "if you think it's unfair on us [wheelchair users] to go to events at venues that aren't accessible to us, don't you think it's unfair of us to go to events at venues that aren't accessible to you as an autistic person?"

When i related this conversation to the second friend, who is a full-time powerchair user with complex physical needs (including severe impairment-related time constraints that there isn't really a social model solution for), as well as autistic, ze replied with "you go to lots of venues that are inaccessible to me", and also commented that true universal accessibility is, in practical terms, impossible, due to the vast variety of different impairments and thus different access needs, some of which will almost inevitably clash with each other, and some of which would be impossible to meet at certain types of events or in certain types of venues without changing the fundamental nature of the event or venue so much as to negate the point of it (which sort of relates to this old post: Pleasure, accessibility and privilege.)

Both these conversations got me thinking: the first about what exactly i consider venues or events that are inaccessible to me, and whether i would expect my friends to boycott them because of that, and the second about whether it really is possible, even if desirable, to have a personal policy of boycotting all inaccessible events or venues. In both cases, the fuzzy, blurry question is - to me anyway - that of where the boundaries of the concept of "accessibility" lie.

It's very, very difficult for me to think in terms of physical places being "inaccessible" for me, simply because i have it so deeply ingrained in my mind that, at least when it comes to a building or an event in a building, "accessible" means "physically accessible", most obviously to wheelchair users (and other people who can't manage steps/stairs), with perhaps things like design issues that affect visually impaired people coming as secondary to that - but accessibility for subtler things, like autistic sensory issues, being a long way off the radar. Like with many things, i find it much easier to agitate for the rights of others than for my own: i've been conditioned to "put up or shut up" about things that make things difficult for me, such as activist meetings held in places with a lot of background noise that plays havoc with my auditory processing, or seating arrangements that make me feel uncomfortable with the angles that i have to look at people (although i think i have got a bit better recently at speaking up about those sort of things in more formal settings, for example appointments with a Disability Employment Advisor at the Jobcentre).

When it comes to things that i feel anxiety about, such as closely packed crowds at music events, decor that makes me feel uncomfortable in shops, restaurants etc. (which has a lot of class, and possibly gender, elements to it too), buses that give me motion sickness, etc., i very much tend to think about them in terms of simply "not liking" them, rather than in terms of accessibility; they tend to register not as things that i *would* "be able" to go to if not for the unpleasant/uncomfortable thing about them, but as things that i wouldn't *want* to go to anyway. Of course, that isn't always necessarily true - there might well be something like, say, a gig by a band i would really love to see, but that's in a really small venue that i know will be so packed with people that it would be impossible for me to comfortably negotiate the crowd, lacking as i do whatever NT-type body language it is that seemingly allows most people to move through crowds of any density without hostility and with most other people happily letting them get past them. But *is* this legitimately an accessibility issue? I know plenty of non-disabled people who don't like and wouldn't want to go to a very crowded event in a small venue, even if their reasons are somewhat different to mine.

Where does the line lie between access barriers and "mere" preferences? No one could reasonably claim that a music event was "inaccessible" to them because it was a type of music they didn't like, but what about, for example, one that would be enjoyable to someone with a certain level of auditory sensitivity if the volume stayed below a certain level, but too much for them to cope with if it went above that level? (And what if the same gig would be considered not worth going to by most other fans of that band or musical genre if the volume *didn't* go above that level? If there was a clash between being "inaccessible" to some people because of too-high volume and "inaccessible" to others because of too-low volume, would it make a difference if in the latter case it was because of a hearing impairment, or simply because the music was aesthetically designed to be played loud?) Is there a relevant ethical difference between events that are designed simply to be "consumed" by an audience (e.g. stage performances) and those that everyone going to has (or should have) an opportunity to actively participate in (e.g. group meetings or conferences)? Perhaps more to the point, is there a relevant ethical difference between barriers to accessibility that could be removed without changing the fundamental nature of the event (e.g. most venue physical access issues) and those (such as sound levels at a music night) that are arguably so intrinsically a part of the event that "removing" or changing them would negate its whole point or turn it into a different event entirely?

(The best post and discussion i've seen on event accessibility, at its widest definition (going well beyond the "standard" or widely-recognised "disabled access" issues, and touching on gender, class and other things as well) is this one by the ever-brilliant cripchick, which can't be linked too widely...)

Questions here, and no answers: i don't know if i'll ever come to a solid conclusion on this. I'd very much like to hear the thoughts on the subject of disabled people with either/both the commonly-recognised types of "access requirements" or/and those that are subtler and less easy to define, though...