unbelievable privilege
Dear LiveJournal,
Sometimes I fall into realizing the unbelievable privilege I have in my life.
I try to keep myself grounded, keep myself in check, keep myself aware. Sometimes I get a slice of awakening that brings me to a greater understanding of what luck I often have in life. And how I shouldn't take it for granted.
This is a long entry. I will not cut-tag it. I want it to be read. Please take the time to read it. Make the time, if you have to. Copy-and-paste it into a word processor and read it later. Print it out if you must. But please, read.
On the way home today, I walked from work at 69th & York to the train. For me, that's not usually such a feat. For a lot of people, it's not really much of a feat. For some, it is.
Today, I left work late and was super stressed out. My students have their final exam on Thursday and Friday, and there's a lot to prepare for. There were glitches with videos being posted of today's lectures, which was stressful. Blah blah blah. I was stressed.
Normally I walk to 60th & 3rd Av to catch the train instead of 68th and Lexington (which is approx. 6 blocks closer. It's much less convenient, so it's not worthwhile. I won't get into details, but essentially the transit options are better at the 59th St Station (entrance at 60th & 3rd) than the closer station. And what's six blocks anyway? I have this privilege.
So I walked instead to 63rd & Lexington for variety. I took the F train which then I anticipated I'd either transfer to the B to get home. This is accomplished at 47th/50th/Rockefeller Center, 42nd/Bryant Park, 34th/Herald Square, etc. I caught the F relatively easily, with minimal wait. Convenient! Things are going my way. I have this privilege.
I got off the train at 47th/50th/Rockefeller Center and waited for the B. It didn't come for a while. No biggie. I was on my way home, my day was essentially over, and so I was not stressed. I waited patiently. I have this privilege.
I noticed that three trains went by on the other track, and being an observer of people, I noticed that two people in particular had not moved from where they were on the platform. I noticed that one of them was in a power wheelchair and one of them was seemingly able-bodied. I thought it was weird because at other times at this station, I hadn't noticed an elevator. The NYC subway system, as great as it is, is so horribly accessible to people who cannot climb stairs. I noticed that a man was walking back and forth on the platform, searching for something. He checked in a few times with the two people previously mentioned. I gathered they were together. I gathered he was looking for an elevator. I looked at the closest subway map and saw that this station is not accessible. The next closest accessible station is two stops (13 blocks, essentially just over half a mile) away. I felt my heart sink.
Just then, my train came and, of course, I got on it. I thought for a second, "Wait.. why are you on this train? You have knowledge that these people might need. You should get off this train." The doors closed. I was on my way home. Able-bodied. I have this privilege.
My heart sank deeper.
I got angry.
At myself, at the subway system, at the fact that it didn't seem like anyone was paying these people any attention. I caught myself thinking, "It's near rush hour ... people are busy." I got angrier. Especially at myself.
I didn't know what to do with myself. I started feeling really guilty, but then angrier in realizing that guilt is useless. I formed a plan. I would get off at the 34th/Herald Sq Station (the accessible one) and scope it out. I'd go back uptown and see if they were still there. I wished so hard that they would be. I felt like I would have let them, and myself, and humanity, down otherwise.
I got off at the station and searched for the elevator. I thought at first that I should sprint to catch the next uptown train, but then I realized I didn't know where the elevator was, or if it was even functional (often they are not). Often, elevators are out of service, and even if they do work, they are at one end of the platform or the other, and this is particular station leaves little room for wheelchairs between support posts, stairways, and the platform edge.
I found the elevator as quickly as I could and waited until it arrived, functionally. I took the elevator up, crossed over to the uptown platform, and caught the next train uptown.
By this time, probably 10 minutes had passed. I started getting upset, realizing that I'd probably lost the opportunity to right my wrongdoing. I rode the train back uptown two stops and got out. I started going toward the stairs and waited my turn while people filed up the stairs. I noticed a woman with a baby in a stroller, standing in the fray at the bottom of the stairs, looking blankly and sadly at the people streaming past. I could have ran past in order to see if the people were still stranded on the platform, leaving this strollered woman to fend for herself. But then, no one was helping her. I directed my frustration into a positive energy.
I asked if she needed a hand with the stroller. She said yes, and thanks. I helped her up, baby still asleep, and she was on her way. I felt somewhat redeemed. Then I went right back to my mission. I returned to the downtown platform and scoured for the people I had seen stranded earlier. I couldn't find them. I was saddened.
After a minute, I found the seemingly able-bodied woman standing next to an empty power wheelchair at the bottom of the stairs. I went over and asked with a concerned face, "Is she up alright?" She replied, "Yes, they're working on it." I mentioned that I had been frustrated at the horrible inaccessibility of the subway station. She told me that they hadn't realized it was inaccessible when they got off the train, and that this is where they needed to be. I muttered that the subway maps barely indicate which stations are accessible, and that they're hard to notice.
I lamented that the maps are so crammed with information that it's hard to find the tiny little wheelchair symbol next to the accessible stations. Of course, there's a small list of stations organized by borough, in the bottom right corner (away from the rest of the map's critical information when you're trying to find your way in an already complex system). She nodded, knowingly, and soaked it in.
Just then, the third person, a thin man in his early 50s, came down the stairs. I apologized for the lack of an elevator. I offered, "The next accessible station is..." as he said simultaneously, "...34th Street..." and we both shared a frustrated look. It seems the station agent was kind enough to tell him to go somewhere else to find a place where they could exit accessibly.
I asked if he wanted a hand with the chair, and he accepted. He said he'd take the back, where the battery was, as it was the heaviest part. We went to pick it up and another passerby stopped and said he'd lend a hand. Power wheelchairs are not very light machines.
The three of us struggled a bit to get the heavy chair up the stairs as people streamed past us, heading down. Some only moved out of the way at the last second, and a few actually bumped into the third man who was walking backward, lifting the front of the chair. I had the side of the chair, stabilizing and assisting with the heavy end with the battery.
We set the chair down, finally at the top of the stairs, and the third man waved his goodbye. The first man, the thin one in his 50s, sat on the chair and went to motor away. I asked if he needed any help getting out to the street (as we were still one story below-ground on the mezzanine). He said he had found an elevator that connects the street to the mezzanine. How helpful.
We waved goodbyes and parted ways. I caught a train downtown instantly and was actually able to sit, which is a rarity in rush and near-rush trains heading anywhere in the city. I felt rewarded. I felt relieved. But I still felt angry. Though it appears everyone was able to get out of the subway alright, it still took the concerted effort of a number of people, struggling to work in a world that is not made to work for everyone.
I felt so angry still, but better.
And I felt, again, the weight of my unbelievable privilege.
Please realize yours. And do something with it.
Love, Bo
Sometimes I fall into realizing the unbelievable privilege I have in my life.
I try to keep myself grounded, keep myself in check, keep myself aware. Sometimes I get a slice of awakening that brings me to a greater understanding of what luck I often have in life. And how I shouldn't take it for granted.
This is a long entry. I will not cut-tag it. I want it to be read. Please take the time to read it. Make the time, if you have to. Copy-and-paste it into a word processor and read it later. Print it out if you must. But please, read.
On the way home today, I walked from work at 69th & York to the train. For me, that's not usually such a feat. For a lot of people, it's not really much of a feat. For some, it is.
Today, I left work late and was super stressed out. My students have their final exam on Thursday and Friday, and there's a lot to prepare for. There were glitches with videos being posted of today's lectures, which was stressful. Blah blah blah. I was stressed.
Normally I walk to 60th & 3rd Av to catch the train instead of 68th and Lexington (which is approx. 6 blocks closer. It's much less convenient, so it's not worthwhile. I won't get into details, but essentially the transit options are better at the 59th St Station (entrance at 60th & 3rd) than the closer station. And what's six blocks anyway? I have this privilege.
So I walked instead to 63rd & Lexington for variety. I took the F train which then I anticipated I'd either transfer to the B to get home. This is accomplished at 47th/50th/Rockefeller Center, 42nd/Bryant Park, 34th/Herald Square, etc. I caught the F relatively easily, with minimal wait. Convenient! Things are going my way. I have this privilege.
I got off the train at 47th/50th/Rockefeller Center and waited for the B. It didn't come for a while. No biggie. I was on my way home, my day was essentially over, and so I was not stressed. I waited patiently. I have this privilege.
I noticed that three trains went by on the other track, and being an observer of people, I noticed that two people in particular had not moved from where they were on the platform. I noticed that one of them was in a power wheelchair and one of them was seemingly able-bodied. I thought it was weird because at other times at this station, I hadn't noticed an elevator. The NYC subway system, as great as it is, is so horribly accessible to people who cannot climb stairs. I noticed that a man was walking back and forth on the platform, searching for something. He checked in a few times with the two people previously mentioned. I gathered they were together. I gathered he was looking for an elevator. I looked at the closest subway map and saw that this station is not accessible. The next closest accessible station is two stops (13 blocks, essentially just over half a mile) away. I felt my heart sink.
Just then, my train came and, of course, I got on it. I thought for a second, "Wait.. why are you on this train? You have knowledge that these people might need. You should get off this train." The doors closed. I was on my way home. Able-bodied. I have this privilege.
My heart sank deeper.
I got angry.
At myself, at the subway system, at the fact that it didn't seem like anyone was paying these people any attention. I caught myself thinking, "It's near rush hour ... people are busy." I got angrier. Especially at myself.
I didn't know what to do with myself. I started feeling really guilty, but then angrier in realizing that guilt is useless. I formed a plan. I would get off at the 34th/Herald Sq Station (the accessible one) and scope it out. I'd go back uptown and see if they were still there. I wished so hard that they would be. I felt like I would have let them, and myself, and humanity, down otherwise.
I got off at the station and searched for the elevator. I thought at first that I should sprint to catch the next uptown train, but then I realized I didn't know where the elevator was, or if it was even functional (often they are not). Often, elevators are out of service, and even if they do work, they are at one end of the platform or the other, and this is particular station leaves little room for wheelchairs between support posts, stairways, and the platform edge.
I found the elevator as quickly as I could and waited until it arrived, functionally. I took the elevator up, crossed over to the uptown platform, and caught the next train uptown.
By this time, probably 10 minutes had passed. I started getting upset, realizing that I'd probably lost the opportunity to right my wrongdoing. I rode the train back uptown two stops and got out. I started going toward the stairs and waited my turn while people filed up the stairs. I noticed a woman with a baby in a stroller, standing in the fray at the bottom of the stairs, looking blankly and sadly at the people streaming past. I could have ran past in order to see if the people were still stranded on the platform, leaving this strollered woman to fend for herself. But then, no one was helping her. I directed my frustration into a positive energy.
I asked if she needed a hand with the stroller. She said yes, and thanks. I helped her up, baby still asleep, and she was on her way. I felt somewhat redeemed. Then I went right back to my mission. I returned to the downtown platform and scoured for the people I had seen stranded earlier. I couldn't find them. I was saddened.
After a minute, I found the seemingly able-bodied woman standing next to an empty power wheelchair at the bottom of the stairs. I went over and asked with a concerned face, "Is she up alright?" She replied, "Yes, they're working on it." I mentioned that I had been frustrated at the horrible inaccessibility of the subway station. She told me that they hadn't realized it was inaccessible when they got off the train, and that this is where they needed to be. I muttered that the subway maps barely indicate which stations are accessible, and that they're hard to notice.
I lamented that the maps are so crammed with information that it's hard to find the tiny little wheelchair symbol next to the accessible stations. Of course, there's a small list of stations organized by borough, in the bottom right corner (away from the rest of the map's critical information when you're trying to find your way in an already complex system). She nodded, knowingly, and soaked it in.
Just then, the third person, a thin man in his early 50s, came down the stairs. I apologized for the lack of an elevator. I offered, "The next accessible station is..." as he said simultaneously, "...34th Street..." and we both shared a frustrated look. It seems the station agent was kind enough to tell him to go somewhere else to find a place where they could exit accessibly.
I asked if he wanted a hand with the chair, and he accepted. He said he'd take the back, where the battery was, as it was the heaviest part. We went to pick it up and another passerby stopped and said he'd lend a hand. Power wheelchairs are not very light machines.
The three of us struggled a bit to get the heavy chair up the stairs as people streamed past us, heading down. Some only moved out of the way at the last second, and a few actually bumped into the third man who was walking backward, lifting the front of the chair. I had the side of the chair, stabilizing and assisting with the heavy end with the battery.
We set the chair down, finally at the top of the stairs, and the third man waved his goodbye. The first man, the thin one in his 50s, sat on the chair and went to motor away. I asked if he needed any help getting out to the street (as we were still one story below-ground on the mezzanine). He said he had found an elevator that connects the street to the mezzanine. How helpful.
We waved goodbyes and parted ways. I caught a train downtown instantly and was actually able to sit, which is a rarity in rush and near-rush trains heading anywhere in the city. I felt rewarded. I felt relieved. But I still felt angry. Though it appears everyone was able to get out of the subway alright, it still took the concerted effort of a number of people, struggling to work in a world that is not made to work for everyone.
I felt so angry still, but better.
And I felt, again, the weight of my unbelievable privilege.
Please realize yours. And do something with it.
Love, Bo