36 Time December 6/December 13, 2021
NATION
What I give up to fly
as a disabled person
BY REBEKAH TAUSSIG
It wasn’t until the end of 2018 that
airlines were required to report the num-
ber of mobility aids lost or broken under
their watch. Since then, the largest air-
lines have reported more than 15,000
incidents—a number assumed to be
underreported and lowered by the pan-
demic’s toll on travel. Now social media
allows us to see the personal stories be-
hind the numbers. Millions of people
watched Bri Scalesse’s TikTok video
recording her best friend’s sobs when
Scalesse’s wheelchair was broken on a
flight this summer. Nearly half a million
watched Shane Burcaw’s YouTube video
capturing the helplessness he and his
wife Hannah felt when his wheelchair
was returned malfunctioning.
I didn’t have access to these num-
bers or videos for most of my life. I’d
always imagined the ritual of dehy-
dration and degradation was my per-
sonal plight, but a recent survey found
that 43% of wheelchair users who’ve
attempted to fly now avoid it.
I’ll never forget when I landed in
Detroit a few years ago and the airline
couldn’t locate my wheelchair. People
assume wheelchairs are interchange-
able when, really, they’re much morei am The youngesT daughTer of a man who paid
his way through college working 50 hours a week, replac-
ing sleep with sheer grit. He’s tough and intentional with
a strong sense of personal responsibility. Our conversa-
tions on anything from health care reform to paid mater-
nity leave rarely get far. “It would be wonderful if we could
solve everyone’s problems, but life is hard,” he often says.
“And hard doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”
His words—life is hard—came back to me as my partner
Micah and I prepared for our first plane ride with our tod-
dler Otto. Because commercial airplanes and their bath-
rooms don’t accommodate wheelchairs, I generally prefer
driving a longer distance to avoid even a short flight. But
we couldn’t afford to take off work for a 22-hour road trip,
so our only option was to fly with our 16-month-old.
I started restricting fluids the night before our trip to
make sure I wouldn’t need to use the restroom during our
flight. The next morning, Otto sat in my lap as we cruised
through the terminal, crumpling my boarding pass in his
fist. When we got to security, Micah lifted Otto off my lap
and they made their way through the metal detector while
I waited, as I do anytime I fly, to be courteously felt up. The
airport security officer warned me each time she moved
her hands up my thighs, under my breasts, along each butt
cheek. A series of familiar indignities, uncomfortable and
professional. I took each in stride, my father’s daughter.
Micah held Otto again as I transitioned onto the plane.
I’m always given a choice to be pushed to my seat in a roll-
ing aisle chair, an exercise that makes me feel like a child
being carted along on a sad parade float. This time, my legs
were cooperating, so I opted for a labored shuffle to Row 8.
Otto and I then watched as the baggage handlers whipped
my wheelchair onto the conveyor belt.
Flying has always felt disempowering, but this was the first
time I needed to operate as a mother too. I wondered if any-
one in charge saw how helpless the airline had made me, or if
they assumed helplessness was built into my very body. How
can you take power away from someone you already deem
powerless?
Life is hard. Of course it is. The piece that’s more puz-
zling to me is sorting through the layers of hard. What parts
of life are inherently hard? What challenges are my indi-
vidual problems to fix, and what messes remain our collec-
tive responsibility? When do we concede to life’s inevitable
roughness, and when do we push to smooth out the edges?
When I hear conversations about making airplanes ac-
commodating, it feels like there’s a sympathetic shrug.
Wheelchair users make up such a small population! I hear. Of
course they should have equal access, but let’s be reasonable.
I
wondered
if anyone
in charge
saw how
helpless
the airline
had made
me