From Entry to Entrée

Dining out is a special treat we give ourselves and those we love. Whether it’s to socialize with friends, to celebrate an occasion, to reward ourselves after a particularly taxing week at work or simply to avoid cleanup duties, visiting local restaurants can be a frequent occurrence—and for some of us, it happens a lot.

I’m Robin Whyte; I live in Victoria, and I love ALL of the fabulous eating experiences that are on offer in our award-winning city, to the extent that I created a website about them, but with a twist. My website is called Girl About Town: Accessible Victoria (www.girlabouttown.ca), and the reviews I conduct and post on my website are primarily focused on a restaurant’s level of meaningful accessibility. 

But when I talk about meaningful accessibility, you may wonder what I’m referring to exactly, and also, why do I particularly care?

Meaningful accessibility

Meaningful accessibility, when referring to the built environment, is defined as the intent to meet the needs of all users of a site (a building or outdoor space) regardless of their ability. It’s a holistic approach to design that considers the entire experience instead of individual features, by utilizing the building principles of universal design so that everyone, to the greatest extent possible, can participate in their communities and lead full lives.

This refreshingly simple concept is something I care about because I navigate life on a small mobility scooter as a result of multiple sclerosis (MS), which I was diagnosed with at age 30. MS can be a very unpredictable disease and is often variable in its symptoms and severity from person to person. In my case, after an active disease course through my 30s (and some residual disability), my symptoms settled down after a decade, and the illness has remained stable ever since. However, I’ve been left with the inability to walk with agility and confidence, hence the scooter.

It’s understandable why accessibility in the built environment, in this case, eating establishments, means a lot to me. Quite frankly, it’s the premier deciding factor when I choose a restaurant to visit. It's something I wish I didn’t have to think about it, but I’m in good company as part of an ever-growing number of Canadians with mobility concerns: the latest Statistics Canada figures tell us that 27% of people over the age of 15 identify as having a disability. While that number is not fully composed of folks with physical disabilities, it is a steadily growing one, especially as baby boomers continue to heed the call the of Father Time.

Bettering communities

Here’s the point, good people: it makes excellent sense to make spaces as barrier-free as possible—not only for folks with mobility challenges, but for everyone. The bonus is that it makes great business sense, too. Like most of the population, folks with disabilities don’t tend to go out by themselves; they’re usually accompanied by friends, family and/or colleagues, so ensuring that spaces work for everyone is smart. The bottom line is that equality for people with disabilities is the right thing to do, which leads quite naturally into meaningful accessibility.

I’m such a firm believer in the concept of meaningful access(ibility) and universal design, that I recently became certified with the Rick Hansen Foundation Accessibility Certification program and am a newly minted Accessibility Specialist with a focus in the tourism and hospitality industries. It’s a challenging, rewarding, frustrating and fabulous line of work: challenging because I’m required to know a ton of technical information; rewarding because business owners and organizations of all kinds are understanding the importance of being accessible; frustrating because sometimes I see glaring examples of inaccessible and poorly designed spaces; and fabulous because I meet wonderful people committed to making our community a better place, in all of their (various) iterations.