When
we explain exhibitions, performances, or parades created under the name of dianalab,
people often respond, “So, this is what you call barrier-free, right?” Whenever
that happens, we pause for a moment. Hmm. How should we explain this? Because
we are people who think deeply and react sensitively to the word “barrier,” our
answers are never satisfactory. Sometimes we brush it off with, “It’s similar.”
Other times we deliberately say, “We are not barrier-free, we are
barrier-conscious!”—a concept almost unknown. Either way, it is never something
that can be explained properly in a short time. Where should we begin?
When
we think about the word “barrier-free,” our minds become complicated. The
saddest part is that such conditions are rare in Korea today. Even if we limit
the meaning of barrier-free only to a space without physical thresholds, the
same is true. Through the Discrimination-Free Store project
(Note 1), we came to realize painfully just how difficult it is to find a space
where you can go together with someone who uses a wheelchair, and how dreamlike
it is to hope for a space where you can also stay without discrimination with
other social minorities. That is why the mere sight of the word “barrier-free”
makes us happy, because it makes us think, “Wow! That must be a place where we
can all go together!” Even in Seoul, the city with the most barrier-free spaces
in Korea, the word is by no means common. The reality check that comes with the
boundary of a physical threshold is powerful. And yet, why do we hesitate to
use that word?
First,
it should be noted that within the “we” who do things together under the name
of dianalab, there are people with a wide variety of minority identities. And
within the group of people commonly referred to as “people with disabilities”
or “people with severe disabilities,” there exist vastly different types of
disability and enormous individual differences. It is obvious, but just as not
all women are the same, not all disabled people are similar either. Some people
ask questions like, “What should I do if I encounter a wild bear in the
mountains?” in the same way they ask, “What should I do if I meet someone with
developmental disabilities?” There are even many who ask us to produce manuals
on how to deal with each type of disability.
We,
who are treated as objects to be dealt with, have been thrown out of
restaurants famous for welcoming wheelchair users simply because of having
developmental disabilities (Note 2). On the street, we are glared at, or even
subjected to discrimination and violence from people who themselves are in
marginalized positions. How can we explain this complexity? A physically
barrier-free environment is precious, but it does not guarantee that we will
not be discriminated against. A story about a restaurant owner waiving the bill
out of pity for a disabled customer is not a heartwarming tale.
Eliminating
physical barriers does not make invisible barriers disappear. Nor does removing
a few barriers mean that the others stop operating. We are people with multiple
identities. If it were possible to exist only with a single identity, things
would be simple and nice. But such a thing does not happen in this world. Some
of us are disabled and at the same time women, queer, vegan, parents,
foreigners, people of color, those with low educational backgrounds, and those
living in poverty. Barriers exist everywhere, and they target and penetrate not
only minorities but everyone. Yet, the moment we use the word “barrier-free,”
it sometimes feels as if the world is not like that.
The
reason dianalab does not readily use the word “barrier-free” is that we cannot
rid ourselves of the thought that the moment the word is uttered, we are forced
into a binary framework of thought. Regardless of good intentions and
necessity, saying the word inevitably creates a dualistic opposition: between
those to whom barrier-free applies and those to whom it does not, between those
who invite and those who are invited, between spaces that are not barrier-free
and those that are. Of course, barrier-free as a physical condition is a basic
premise for dianalab to be able to do anything. But the moment we describe
ourselves with that word, it feels as though what we can do has somehow been
reduced. Just as a performance labeled “barrier-free” does not necessarily
guarantee barrier-free conditions for those performing in it. It is difficult
to deny that the utterance of the word itself creates a certain hierarchy.
While
carrying out the Discrimination-Free Store project, we
encountered countless sharp boundaries: “Disabled people are fine, but LGBTQ+
are not.” “Disabled and LGBTQ+ are fine, but it must be a no-kids zone.”
“Animals are not allowed.” “Wheelchairs are fine, but intellectual disabilities
are not.” “Developmental disabilities are fine, but wheelchairs are not
allowed.” “You must call ahead before coming.” “It’s fine as long as customers
don’t see it.” “A guardian must accompany them.” These are just some examples.
The drawing of lines—what is acceptable and what is not—happens everywhere, all
the time. Gender, age, educational level, alignment or misalignment of
biological and social sex, sexual orientation, family structure, race, place of
origin, nationality, religion, class, mother tongue, physical features and body
image, disability status, health… thousands of lines run through us. There is
no place where barriers are not at work. This can even happen within
organizations doing social activism, or among human rights activists
themselves.
One
time, we heard a very striking question: “What should we do if a perpetrator of
sexual violence goes around claiming to be a feminist?” To which someone
answered, “What guarantee is there that someone who calls themselves a feminist
will not commit sexual violence?” It was exactly right. We are fairly cynical
people, so in fact we believe in nothing. We know that people with one minority
identity can very easily neglect or take a very violent attitude toward other
minorities. And unfortunately, such things do actually happen.
Therefore,
we try as much as possible not to hold expectations or prejudices about “XXX”
as an objectified category that will behave in such and such a way. Instead of
expecting someone, categorized as belonging to a certain group, to have those
traits, we expect every individual we meet to be a good person. And we imagine
that all these individuals coming together could perhaps do lots of joyful
things. For people who claim to believe in nothing, we are actually quite
optimistic.
To
be together joyfully, the word we use is “barrier-conscious.” Just as dianalab
and the Infoshop Café Byeolggol have been appropriating the zine in completely
different ways, so too with this concept.
