Accessibility (Dis)services at AWP
by Fiction Editor Amanda Nevada DeMel
“Lisbonne (1940) by Maria Helena Vieira da Silva / Flickr Images
The AWP conference is known to be an invaluable opportunity for writers and publishers to network, see trends in the field, and discuss areas of interest and importance. However, this year’s conference, held in Kansas City, Missouri, was rather prohibitive to folks who needed accessibility accommodations. While official websites, social media pages, disclaimers, and notices claimed to strive for the utmost accessibility, the lived experience of those attending AWP did not match those claims.
From AWP staff and attendees moving mobility devices without consent to panel moderators making disparaging remarks about the need for printouts, from the lack of enough printouts (or none at all) to the official app not being compatible with phone accessibility settings, from an inadequate low-light room to moderators and representatives just not showing up for the Disability and D/deaf Caucus, the lack of accessibility made the conference a major stressor for disabled folks. Personally, I struggled most with moderators making unnecessary comments about accessibility measures and the “low-light room” being entirely inadequate for its stated purpose. My experience just one example of plenty of writing and publishing professionals who struggled unnecessarily.
I was also appalled by the situation with the Disability and D/deaf Caucus. Networking is a major benefit of going to AWP, and I looked forward to attending this event . . . only to find that there was apparently no event. After investigating for multiple weeks, one person who attended the conference was accepted into the private Facebook group for the caucus, and it turns out that there was single announcement about the cancellation, posted three hours and five minutes before the caucus was due to start. Making one post in a closed group on a website one must sign up for is not sufficient communication.
Going to such a huge event can be a gamble for disabled folks to start with. I heard from many disabled attendees that they were hesitant to sign up in the first place, knowing their own limitations and considering their past experiences with mistreatment. But AWP put on a good advertising show, filled with promises of inclusivity. As one attendee, Ichabod Cassius Kilroy (it/its), asked, “I paid the same ticket price as any able-bodied participant, so why was my conference experience so much lesser?”
Furthermore, Kilroy raised the concern that the attempts at accessibility “seemed more aimed at appearing good than at providing equitable access to the disabled community.” Accessibility is a major gateway to true inclusivity. Without being truly inclusive, how can we, as a field of professionals, claim to promote and see all voices, all perspectives, all experiences?
AWP has the potential to be great. It’s seen as one of the most important writing conferences for traditional publishing, and if their claims to strive for accessibility are to be believed, they can get there. The attendees who showed up for the Disability and D/deaf Caucus have joined together to write a letter to Cynthia Sherman, the Executive Director of AWP, to inform her about the pitfalls and to suggest solutions for them. I am honored to count myself among the cosigners.
While some disadvantages are outside of AWP’s control, such as elevators not working in the convention center, we know that workarounds do exist and should be implemented. After sending polite emails about genuine concerns early into the conference, receiving patronizing and condescending responses – delivered on the final day of the event, to boot – are not acceptable. This specifically happened to Kilroy, who is a disabled writer. If someone tells you that your app is not compatible with their phone’s accessibility settings, the solution is not to instruct them in how to change the settings on their phone. If you advertise a quiet, low-light space, then you should ensure that space is suitable for its purpose and not simply a room with the lights off and the door stuck ajar.
According to the World Health Organization, about 16% of the global population, or one in six people, deals with some disability. Considering the thousands of writers and publishers that attend AWP, it shouldn’t seem too absurd that accommodations are necessary. Even if there was only one disabled person at the conference, why should they be at a disadvantage?
Amanda Nevada DeMel is an emerging speculative fiction author. Her favorite genre is horror, thanks to careful cultivation from her father. She especially appreciates media that can simultaneously scare her and make her cry. She is an MFA candidate at the University of New Hampshire, where she also works as the fiction editor at Barnstorm Journal. Additionally, she loves reptiles, musicals, and breakfast foods.