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There's been discussion today on the JISC-Repositories mailing list about accessibility standards and repositories. The primary question is whether requiring fully accessible data formats for repository deposit places too high a barrier for repositories which really need all of the deposits they can get (the general consensus of the mailing list is that yes, it is too high a barrier). This discussion has been carried to UK Web Focus and even to Open Access News, so the discussion is getting around.
Over at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
accessify, Ian Lloyd asked the question: "How did you get into web accessibility? Was it because you have a relative that is affected and you felt the need to spread the word, or did you do it simply because it seemed like a niche market that you could become an expert in?" Note that he doesn't offer as an expected choice "do you have a disability"? He asks instead if readers have an affected relative.
Both of these discussions come from well-meaning people. Moreover, these well-meaning people are making many of the huge bounds forward in accessibility of information. The open repositories movement, for example, by making it possible for people to access information even if they are incapable of traveling to the repository where the hard copy is stored, has made huge strides for accessibility.
Yet in both of these cases I see a situation I've seen consistently in the accessibility movement: there is an assumption of otherness. An assumption that we are serving some community which is not ourselves, some other people -- those poor, unfortunate, deserving disabled people -- who have a right to access information. And sometimes, of course, it's reasonable to say "in this case it's a little bit too hard; in this case we need a flash website; in this case we need to accept PDF documents; in this case it's too difficult to design a non-JavaScript alternative". Because after all, we are trying to reach the highest number of users with the highest amount of information, right?
Amazing how that seemingly rational discussion of maximizing usability seems less fair when it's the librarians and web developers ourselves who have disabilities. Amazing how many discussions (all by incredibly well-meaning and helpful people) on adequate usability and legal requirements devolve into people looking the other way and whistling whenever somebody in the conversation says "you know, I'm the staffer who's supposed to be assisting these users with this tool, and I'm unable to use it."
It's this "good enough" attitude that has resulted in the website of a nonprofit with which I am affiliated, a nonprofit formed to serve a disabled community, being completely inaccessible. It's this attitude which resulted in a sign being placed on a library's bathroom door which said "if you need assistance, please ask at the circulation desk", because in the middle of a major capital library construction project, placing an automatic door opener on the brand-new bathroom was not deemed a priority.
I can't see the big picture anymore. I have to keep standing on the sidelines while everyone else is being reasonable and balanced, saying "it's not good enough". Because it's not.
Over at
accessify, Ian Lloyd asked the question: "How did you get into web accessibility? Was it because you have a relative that is affected and you felt the need to spread the word, or did you do it simply because it seemed like a niche market that you could become an expert in?" Note that he doesn't offer as an expected choice "do you have a disability"? He asks instead if readers have an affected relative.Both of these discussions come from well-meaning people. Moreover, these well-meaning people are making many of the huge bounds forward in accessibility of information. The open repositories movement, for example, by making it possible for people to access information even if they are incapable of traveling to the repository where the hard copy is stored, has made huge strides for accessibility.
Yet in both of these cases I see a situation I've seen consistently in the accessibility movement: there is an assumption of otherness. An assumption that we are serving some community which is not ourselves, some other people -- those poor, unfortunate, deserving disabled people -- who have a right to access information. And sometimes, of course, it's reasonable to say "in this case it's a little bit too hard; in this case we need a flash website; in this case we need to accept PDF documents; in this case it's too difficult to design a non-JavaScript alternative". Because after all, we are trying to reach the highest number of users with the highest amount of information, right?
Amazing how that seemingly rational discussion of maximizing usability seems less fair when it's the librarians and web developers ourselves who have disabilities. Amazing how many discussions (all by incredibly well-meaning and helpful people) on adequate usability and legal requirements devolve into people looking the other way and whistling whenever somebody in the conversation says "you know, I'm the staffer who's supposed to be assisting these users with this tool, and I'm unable to use it."
It's this "good enough" attitude that has resulted in the website of a nonprofit with which I am affiliated, a nonprofit formed to serve a disabled community, being completely inaccessible. It's this attitude which resulted in a sign being placed on a library's bathroom door which said "if you need assistance, please ask at the circulation desk", because in the middle of a major capital library construction project, placing an automatic door opener on the brand-new bathroom was not deemed a priority.
I can't see the big picture anymore. I have to keep standing on the sidelines while everyone else is being reasonable and balanced, saying "it's not good enough". Because it's not.
