As I continue to study texts about Edmonton, it's become apparent to me how central memory and narrative are to a concept of place. But I keep returning to something else: the idea of physical, embodied experience. Different bodies move through the same space in different ways, which can create unspoken "city limits" that we might not even think of.
For example, appearance can code and telegraph certain things about a person, including class, sexuality, or gender, and open up the possibility of discrimination. I'm sure that at some point, all of you have felt uncomfortable somewhere you're underdressed/not wearing the "right" clothes -- now imagine that vague feeling of unwelcomeness magnified into the possibility of danger. I'm reminded of the anecdote in Darrin Hagen's The Edmonton Queen in which Gloria and Lulu, walking down Jasper Ave in drag, have to fend off attackers with their heels. It also brings to mind something Heather mentioned to me the other day: how the lack of gender-neutral toilets on the U of A campus is difficult for transgendered people.
And then there's the issue of various disabilities -- physical, sensory, intellectual; visible or invisible -- which I think is going to be the focus of my mapping project. Architectural ableism all over campus complicates the narrative of moving through the space of a day, presenting choices and defining what can and can't be accomplished.
If you can't do stairs, for example, your options are elevators and ramps. The elevators at the university LRT station sometimes don't work. Rutherford South doesn't even have an elevator. There are ramps for some staircases, but not for others -- and so you'd be limited to routes that incorporate them, routes which probably aren't the most time- and energy-efficient.
Or try chronic pain and fatigue. Let's say a typical day for you involves LRTing to school and walking to three classes scattered at opposite ends of campus. For someone with a fifth of the energy of an average person, it might be hard just to get to those classes, never mind retaining enough energy to stay awake and concentrate.
There's also the issue of mental energy, and what stressors someone is capable of enduring to get from place to place. I don't want to speculate and misrepresent peoples' experiences, but I imagine things like agoraphobia, claustrophobia, and social anxiety disorders (in which people become a factor of the space) would complicate a concept of space, too.
With only my own examples and experiences to draw on -- and very little knowledge of sensory or intellectual disabilities -- I can't even begin to imagine the scope of difficulties people deal with. If you have any other thoughts of examples of how your body, or other peoples' bodies, shape their movement through space, I'd love to hear them.
I think this will be a fascinating concept to map, and I'm looking forward to seeing your rendering. Another thing that occurred to me (and this may be to much to add into your map, but i'll mention it all the same) is how the weather impacts our movement patterns. How many long pedway detours will we take to avoid stepping outside? Which stepping-stone leaps from building to building have we developed to get from point A to point B? Even things like an icy stretch of sidewalk can divert people from their preferred or ideal routes.
ReplyDeleteJust some thoughts...
Hi Rita, I am doing blog evaluations, so I thought I would comment on yours.
ReplyDeleteI really like the structure of your entry. It has a really cohesive idea that ties in everything that we've been talking about so far. You do three things: you express your own learning experience, you allow others to see the city differently in the same way you have newly experienced it, and you suggest new ideas that will probably stay in the readers' minds as something which they can discuss (as students) or something which will allow them to both read and walk the space differently.
Also, I got a sense of humility and gratefulness in reading this entry. I cannot even imagine what it's like to have to maneuver over icy slopes or narrow paths from any kind of disability. I know when my glasses fog up and I have to take them off I feel almost completely incapacitated. This idea is something I will continue to think about.
This is an incredible idea for a map.
ReplyDeleteI had the pleasure of breaking my foot, on campus, shortly after my first ever semester in university began. It was September 15th, barely two weeks into the semester.
Needless to say, I can relate to your thoughts on the inaccessibility of the university. Having just started school and still spatially unaware of the university's buildings and sidewalks, it was a huge inconvenience.
Eventually I started to discover the best ways to get around stress-free, but it proved to be pretty difficult.
As you said, the elevators in the LRT stations sometimes (read: often) don't work, which means a lengthy walk on crutches across the busy platform. Not fun.
The break I had took a long time to heal, and in fact I'm still worried it hasn't healed. This is partially my fault though; when you're in a cast and on crutches, and the Edmonton winter is fast approaching, there's little choice but to kick the crutches and simply walk on your broken foot, for you'd rather not slip on the iced over sidewalks and bust your ass.
This is such a great post Rita- really thought provoking, especially if you are someone who has never been inconvenienced by accessibility issues personally (read: me). I remember coming to the UofA campus in grade 8 for a sort of tour thing with my class. It lasted the entire day and by the end of it I was exhausted. It was perhaps the most memorable thing about that experience. I can't imagine having to walk from HC to ETLC for a class with chronic pain and fatigue. I think the city of Edmonton in general is not a great place maneuver for the same reason campus isn't: much of it is massively spread out in a way that is not accommodating what-so-ever.
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