• Abstract and Figures
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Project Coordinator: Allison Baldwin Copyright: 2019-2020 This book includes the writing and photos of the Access Granted exhibit, originally installed, and on view, at Penstock Coffee Roasters in Highland Park, New Jersey from November 2019 to February 2020. Grant funding has been provided by the Middlesex County Board of Chosen Freeholders through a grant award from the Middlesex County Cultural and Arts Trust Fund and the New Jersey Council on the Arts, a division of the Department of the State. This book, and the content therein, is not eligible for reprint without the express written permission of the Highland Park Arts Commission and individual authors. ISBN: 978-1-09830-557-4 eISBN: 978-1-0983055-8-1 Table of Contents Poetry and Essays Wishes… Allison Baldwin Munjhi Zindagi (My Life) … Alim Memon Access Granted…Brianna Murray Leave a Trail…Chaz Hayden Safety: On Walking Noor to School…James Simmons and Kristen Witucki Man, the God…Javier Robles Reading Braille: A Spiritual Reclamation…Kristen Witucki No Different…Laura Watson The Space I Take Up…Lorna Hedrick Finally Understanding…Matthew Michael Menechella A Day in the Life, with Dogs…Michael Saverino Tremors…Pandora Scooter Getting There…Charles “Pat” McKenna A Glimpse into my Life of Mental Illness…Yuvonda “Vonni” DeSouza Visual Art Medicated…Maggie Dominick Exhibition Photos Photography Sophia Sobers Ryan Dunphy *Photographs of Chaz Hayden, Charles “Pat” McKenna, Matthew Menechella, and Lorna Hedrick were selected and submitted by the writers. All photos of Kristen Witucki were taken by Michael Porter, except for the photo of her reading the Braille book to herself, which was taken by Damien LaRock. Photos of Brianna Murray were taken by Allison Baldwin. *Opening reception photos taken by John Marron and various attendees. Allison Baldwin Allison is standing on the bridge in the park. Her red hair is partially covering her face and she is looking down with eyes closed. Allison is sitting in a car with her body half out of the front door. She is bent over, and in the middle of folding her walker. The walker can be folded by pushing the two side buttons in so that the walker collapses into itself. When folded, it can fit into the backseat or trunk of most cars and other vehicles. A picture of Allison and her walker, folded all the way down. To reopen the walker, all someone has to do is pull on the read handles until the walker fully elongates and clicks in place. Wishes 1. There is a girl sitting in a white-walled room surrounded by stickers and books and bedclothes. Five unsharpened pencils. She adds lines and crosses and hearts to the negative space. She crumples and folds and crumples and folds. Throws everything but herself between everything but herself. She keeps the doors closed, never needing a lock, even when she asked. It would be too dangerous, they said. What if something happened to you, and we couldn’t get to you, they said. There are Justin Timberlake, Hanson, Spice Girls, and Britney Spears posters adorning the walls, but not for long. I have never liked portraits. The way they stare. Give me the eye as if I am wrong. I knew I perfected that expression somewhere. I do not yet have a dog. Instead, I am surrounded by cats. A fresh notebook page stares up at me. I have already filled up two. Writing came quickly in those days, mostly because I was writing wishbones and not roots. I do not like the way they stare. What if something happened to you and we couldn’t get to you, they said. Something has already happened. There is no need for a lock. 2. There is a girl sitting in a purple-walled room with a border of stars. Make a wish. Make a wish. Make a wish. But don’t tell anyone. That you feel stuck. You wish to leave, but your body is stuck in awkward positions, your mind only follows. I see you And I am sorry. I am sorry that this family does not feel like home. That this body feels like a hand-me down, all the best parts used up by the time it got to you. I am sorry that every request feels like a sword to the chest. There must be more than this provincial life. There is more. We have seen it. We have made sure of it. Right now, though, You must sit in the border of stars Learning how to make wishes while I keep watch. 3. I am a young woman sitting in a taxi-cab that smells like smoke and pizza crust. By evening, that taxi will become an Uber Silence: blaring horns Sunrise: street lights. Everyone is rushing to nowhere and I am resigned. No matter how well I hide the questions follow me. “Is it hard? It must be hard. Not having anyone.” “Does your family take care of you? Do they help you?” “Would you be willing to marry someone so they could help you?” I am a woman sitting in a taxi-cab at sunset and the hardest part about my day is this conversation. Is it hard to be alone? No. Is it hard listening to you assert why I shouldn’t be? Yes. Or hearing you repeat your question like the answer I gave wasn’t good enough and you deserve a better one. It’s been a long day and I just want to get home. I am no longer that girl sitting in the purple-walled room with the border of stars. But I wished to be here In this taxi-cab at sunset. Protected in a gridlock of salt and city lights. The hardest part was getting here. Realizing that other people’s trust didn’t matter. Only my own. Allison is in the car, on the way to her next destination. One of the challenges of living with her disability, Cerebral Palsy, is that she cannot drive and must rely on car services, such as Uber and Lyft, or family and friends for transportation. A full body picture of Allison walking in the park. Because her walker is a “posture control” walker, it goes behind her instead of in front. The walker being behind her, plus the four-wheel model allows for more freedom of movement when walking. Allison is standing in the gazebo at the park. She is singing “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac, one of her favorite songs. Singing is both a joyous and healing hobby for her. Alim Memon A black and white photo of Alim, sitting in his wheelchair, staring up at a large staircase that is blocking his path. Munjhi Zindagi (My Life) This life is full of colors and experiences. These colors and experiences are what makes this life beautiful. Not everybody is fortunate enough to enjoy this beautiful life. I do my things my way, but I am excluded. I do the best I can, but my efforts don’t count. I am productive, but my productivity is inferior. I am capable enough, but at the same time I am “handicapped”. Diversity is what makes us great. But why doesn’t my diversity count? Our qualities are what makes us standout, but my qualities are excluded. Because I standout while sitting down. Because I show up with a great attitude. Because I do things differently. I am accomplished but my fundamental infrastructural needs are superfluous. I am strong but I am fragile. I am competent but I am subpar. I am great, but I am not that great. My life is inspirational, but that’s only the epitome of it. I achieve things my way, but my way is not that way. I am involved, but my involvement is unnecessary. I show up but my appearance is expensive. I am consistent, but my consistency doesn’t count. This life is full of experiences and colors. We learn new things every day and evolve. But the world still operates with one shoe fits all philosophy. This is Munjhi Zindagi And I am just trying to make most out of it. A color photo of Alim in his wheelchair, sitting alongside a house, near a staircase with railings. People with disabilities miss out on participating in many public activities when access to buildings is denied. An angled, color photo of Alim sitting in his wheelchair, looking up at a long staircase that blocks his path. Many places with long staircases are inaccessible to people who use wheelchairs and other assistive devices. Brianna Murray with retired guide dog, Hopps Brianna standing with her retired guide dog, a black lab named Hopps, who worked with her up until the end of the project. Whenever Hopps was in her harness, she was ready to work. Access Granted Entering an Uber, guide dog at my side A dog? No. Access denied. Walking into school, craving to learn Blind? No. a degree cannot be earned. Speaking to peers, trying to fit in Disabled? No. isolation will begin. Fighting back tears to hide the pain Obscuring the scarring that still remains Stumbling through maturity, isolated and alone Pressured to pave the way, destination still unknown. Stress pulling me down, like a hundred-pound weight. Struggling to be proud, and stand up straight Wishing for invisibility, to disappear They’ve repeatedly made their judgements clear Not sure how to dig myself out of this trench Muscles tightening, fists clenched Joining the war in my weakened state Because “Disabled” means having to prove you’re great Fighting for my rights and taking a stand Learning how to advocate and demand Pushing and pushing to get what I need Wanting to hold back but taking the lead Teaching others to do this too Because advocacy can never stop with you Going to college, getting a degree Because disability does not define me Becoming independent, traveling by myself Because only I define my physical health Using a guide dog, standing proud Because together we conquer any crowd People tell me what I can’t do But I’m not afraid to learn something new I’ve learned to love who I’ve become To push away judgement and overcome To take their denials and make it right To prove victorious in the constant fight Hopps (now retired) will always be a trusted family member and animal friend.

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