Despite Strides in Accessibility, I Often Feel Othered at Broadway Shows
It’s frustrating to be left out of theatrical fun because I use a wheelchair
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It was 1994. I was 12 and Rosie O’Donnell was starring in Grease at the Eugene O’Neill Theatre. I remember going with my mom and my cousin. I also recall the onstage dance party I could not participate in. I danced in my seat instead, but I was green with envy at all those who were partying on a pedestal. I didn’t understand why that part of the show was not meant for me.
Sometimes the challenges wheelchair users face aren’t about spaces but about the attitudes of the people managing them. In my decades of theatregoing, I’ve encountered box office personnel who refused to sell me tickets or spoke to my companions instead of me. Ushers who pointed me to my wheelchair location as if landing a plane. A general disconnect between those who wrote the ADA ticketing guidelines and those who implement them.
Name any theatre in NYC and I’ve got a story for it. When I was in college, some shows such as Rent, The Rocky Horror Show and Jekyll & Hyde gave me wheelchair locations at student rush, lottery or even lower prices. I was a student after all, which, for what it’s worth, is how I think the ADA is meant to be interpreted, but that wasn’t the case at every show. Today, it’s most common for wheelchair locations to be offered at mezzanine prices.
One of my worst theatre memories was attempting to buy tickets to Rock of Ages at the Helen Hayes Theater. The box office entrance was not accessible—it had an exterior step leading to the door. Inside, the ticketing windows didn’t face the street, so I couldn’t get anyone’s attention from outside. No doorbell, no public phone number. I called the show’s ticket hotline, but the rep wanted to charge me a service fee to order tickets through him and wouldn’t connect me with someone in the box office I was literally in front of. It was the pure definition of discrimination. Trying to flag down a Good Samaritan in Midtown was tough. People averted their eyes, assuming I was asking for money or food. Eventually, another ticket buyer went inside and grabbed a treasurer for me. Despite my frustration, I still bought tickets, but I haven’t been back to that venue since. In 2015, the theatre was purchased by Second Stage and the company has made renovations to improve accessibility. There’s a flat exterior now, a push button to automatically open the front door, plus a posted phone number. That main entrance still has steps once inside, but it’s a vast improvement.
I am willing to concede that physical barriers in largely landmarked theatres are harder to address than clueless human behavior. But theatres have been closed for more than a year and it seems like such a missed opportunity that so few accessibility issues were fixed. There are still theatres where the closest accessible bathroom is in another venue across the street. Spaces where the only wheelchair accessible entrance is down an alley past the garbage, or around the corner through an office building. And there are little kids with disabilities in the audience longing to be able to get up on stage. We can do so much better.
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Christina Trivigno is the Director of Digital Strategy for TDF. She has more than 10 years of experience working in the digital space and a lifetime of experience as a disability advocate. She has spoken and written about accessibility at organizations around the country, addressing topics such as transportation, reasonable accommodation, digital accessibility and access at the theatre. She was proud to marry her passions with the launch of TheatreAccess.NYC.
Top image: The author at Rock of Ages when the show was at New World Stages. Photo courtesy of Christina Trivigno.
CHRISTINA TRIVIGNO