BY: REGAN MCNEILL

For some of us, getting on the subway is a very simple and convenient process. Given the array of blue signs with white wheelchairs plastered on the subway walls, you probably think it would be the same for other commuters. But in Toronto, only 34 of the TTC’s 69 stations are accessible to those living with any sort of physical disability.

In Toronto, only 34 of the TTC’s 69 stations are accessible to those living with any sort of physical disability.

To grapple with this issue, a Toronto based group, Performance Disability Art (PDA), collaborated with the Artists Newsstand to organize a solidarity march and performance night at Chester Station.

The march started at Broadview Station, and unlike Chester Station, it is wheelchair accessible. After speaking with Syrus Marcus Ware (one of the founders of PDA) it became apparent to me that the procession was much more than an act of a resistance. Rather it was a celebration of the resilience of those living with disabilities, as well as a statement.

The march started at Broadview Station—a celebration of the resilience of those living with disabilities, as well as a statement.

As we held our “Crip Magic” and “Revolutionary Love” signs and walked briskly into the night, I realized that I often took my abilities for granted. Yes, I have the ability to communicate and get from one place to another with ease. No, I do not deserve this more than anyone else.

Syrus, a Toronto native himself, went on to explain that though the TTC was slowly getting better, there is not enough funding going in the right directions. “It looks okay from a capitalist perspective,” he remarked slightly sarcastically as we entered Chester Station to go “lovingly occupy space.”

If you didn’t know, Chester Station is home to the Artists Newsstand, a formerly-vacant news counter that still sells candy and news but also acts as a base for local artists to showcase, perform and sell their works. This basically meant that it was socially acceptable for over 40 of us to gather in this station for the purpose of art and activism.

Chester Station is home to the Artists Newsstand, a formerly-vacant news counter where it is socially acceptable for a group of 40 to gather for the purpose of art and activism.

As their voices grew louder and the claps stronger, some commuters continued their walk on by, unaffected. Others stared in dismay and some even stopped to listen.  It then occurred to me that this was the perfect venue for making what normally remains invisible, visible (even if it is just in passing).

Chills ran down my spine as Syrus and PDA’s co-founder Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha greeted the audience and declared their love for queer, sick, disabled, marginalized, black, brown, trans, weird, and ALL people. It then occurred to me that this was the perfect venue for making what normally remains invisible, visible.

The first performer was Melannie G Campbell. Melannie is a “black, genderqueer, chronically-ill poet.” She read poetry that from what I could hear, delved far into her ancestral past—one that was shaped by the reality of oppression and silence. As the sounds of oncoming trains and the beep of the turnstiles consumed her words, I could not help but notice this as a ironic coincidence.

She read poetry that from what I could hear, delved far into her ancestral past—one that was shaped by the reality of oppression and silence. As the sounds of oncoming trains and the beep of the turnstiles consumed her words, I could not help but notice this as an ironic coincidence.

Next up was Tamyka Bullen. Tamyka is a deaf and female rights activist that facilitates workshops and runs interpretive services for other deaf women in the city. Her poem “Own Tongue Can’t Speak” was about her experiences with different kinds of oppression and the impact they had on her. For audience accessibility, Tamyka and the other performers were accompanied by an ASL interpreter.

Perhaps some people in the audience cried because they could quietly confide in Tamyka. Or maybe there were more like me whose eyes welled up at the thought of being deaf and living with a family that couldn’t sign…and all the other horrors that came with that.

Maybe there were more like me whose eyes welled up at the thought of being deaf and living with a family that couldn’t sign.

We then heard from Rosina Kazi, a vocalist for the Toronto-based band LAL. LAL is experimental electronic music that proudly breaches political and social constructs (you can check their music out at  www.lalforest.com).

Singing solo at the subway station with no microphone, Rosina belted out a ballad-like piece about her battle with depression.

A simple and steady song stopped more people in their tracks than any of the previous performances had.

That is until Dr. Lolo took stage.

Dr. Loree “Lolo” Erickson read excerpts from her PhD thesis that she pursued at York University. This wasn’t your typical thesis, it came from the likes of a proud disabled pornstar academic. Loree described how, for much of her life, she was made to feel unwanted and was denied recognition as a sexual being. What changed all this? Loree started making porn. Her first queer crip porno “Want” is a perfect example of how disabled people, unlike how we are made to think, are pretty fucking hot. All of us, Loree included, were sad that there were no visuals to show at Chester Station.

This wasn’t your typical thesis, it came from the likes of a proud disabled pornstar academic. Her first queer crip porno “Want” is a perfect example of how disabled people, unlike we are made to think, are pretty fucking hot.

Leah concluded the night by reading a chapter from her newly published book “Dirty River.” She painted a vision of Parkdale in the ’90s: a hub of crazies, group homes, community treatment orders, love, unemployment and fear. Out of that she said, sometimes, was “insurrection.” But she said, even when the protest stopped it was not over. It was okay to be “a crazy brown girl walking Queen Street” because there were others too just like her, being.

As I sat on the cold subway floor contemplating how we all got there and the significance of it all, I realized how deeply important our presence was, regardless of our abilities or if we had planned on being there that night.

We were here to publicize the inaccessibility of the TTC, but also to show others that everything we do is political.

Yes we were here to publicize the inaccessibility of the TTC, but also to show others that everything we do is political. Our lives are political. Whether it is the poems we write or the journey we take (or are forced to take due to lack of accessibility) on the subway, these things define us and how others see us. That is why, as PDA urges, artists need to create and writers need to write, because how else are we going to entice others to listen?

That is why, as PDA urges, artists need to create and writers need to write, because how else are we going to entice others to listen?