I live with three uniquenesses, three labels, three discriminations: I am Aboriginal, I was born as a woman and I am also a person who moves on wheels. On wheels is my expression for saying that I am in a wheelchair and that I move with the strength of my arms. It has never stopped me from being a volunteer or being athletic. I have several snow pentathlons and wheelchair marathons under my belt. I participate in shared races in Quebec City every Wednesday in the summer. I come from the North, me; I need to get some fresh air. To go out for my sanity, like everyone else.
From an external point of view, I accomplish many ambitious things despite my handicap, but the most innocuous activities are sometimes the most complicated. Call the paratransit service several days in advance. Everything that is unforeseen, we forget, because there is not always availability. So, rain, sun, storm, the weather does not change much in my program. We think I could just go outside. But it’s not that simple. The biggest obstacles are the sidewalks, the steep descents and my anxiety. I’m afraid of falling. I’m afraid of dropping things on the floor. I’m apprehensive, and it doesn’t come out of nowhere.
The fall that struck me the most happened two blocks from my house. I was not alone; I was going shopping with friends. Already, the buttons on which we cannot press with the height of our armchairs, the too short pedestrian lights, the cars which are in a hurry, that puts the pressure. Me, I’m slow. But here, it was something else. A big crack in the sidewalk. It was evening, so we didn’t see her. However, I look at the sidewalks all the time. The cracks in the sidewalk, actually. When there are a lot of people, you can’t see the ground well. When it’s dark, you can’t see them either.
I fell slowly, sideways. My friend pushing me was in shock. I had the reflex to raise my head, but I hit myself the same way. Usually, I manage to fall on my hands. In my life, I have often fallen, I have my habits. I know how to get up. But I’m embarrassed and it causes anxiety. I know the shock wasn’t very strong, but I was afraid of getting a concussion. I imagined a lot of scenarios. That’s anxiety.
I’m 39, I’m in a wheelchair and I’m stressed about getting to the park by myself. With Nature Québec, we agree on one thing: it’s not the physical, the limiting factor, it’s the city. I never walk alone. The less dangerous option is to ride on cycle paths. It’s straight, it’s flat, but we don’t have the right to do that when we have wheels. It’s made for riding. A simple marking on the ground, a drawing of an armchair, that would change everything. We would feel less excluded.
When Nature Québec asked me how I saw a living city, I imagined accessible paths to go to adapted parks, with trees and rest areas. They told me that it existed, and that we called it green frames.
But for now, public places are not so suitable. We still lack ramps, we still lack uncracked sidewalks and accessible nature. Fixing the sidewalks would help. Thinking about the neighborhoods that need it the most would help even more. Bringing nature back to the city would do a lot of people good.
I like nature. It is she who calms me down. The edge of the water, the woods, the forest, I miss that. The wood, it calmed my anxiety. If I had a wood in front of my window, I would go downstairs and drink my coffee outside. And if someone told me that I could drink it in the park below my building, I would say with pleasure, but when I got there, if I went there, I would drink it cold.
I hope that my testimony will make it possible to change things, to make cities more accessible and nature “within reach of wheels”. Maybe even in a few years, I will be able to drink my coffee hot.