Last week, interviews with three people who have different disabilities brought up aspects of how able-bodied staff and management of bars and restaurants treated them. Some faced outright discrimination in some bars, but enjoyed a welcoming attitude elsewhere.
This week, we focus on a few more people's experiences in bars and other public venues, and how they can improve accessibility.
A bit of background: the Americans with Disabilities Act was made into law in 1990. Its several subsections include Title III, which focuses on public accommodations and accessibility. Under the law, businesses and government buildings are required to make entryways and other areas accessible for wheelchair users and others with a disability or mobility issues.
But older buildings are sometimes exempt, if they prove they're unable to make renovations without what are considered excessive costs, or if the buildings are historical spaces.
Before and after the ADA passage, businesses like Greyhound, and even the Association of Christian Schools International, lobbied for exemptions. The National Federation of Independent Businesses also lobbied against the bill, saying enforcement of the law would have "a disastrous impact on many small business struggling to survive." Due to their forceful lobbying, most churches in the U.S. are exempt from being at all accessible.
As for local nightlife and tourism, the website www.sanfrancisco.travel/accessibility/San-Francisco-Access-Guide.html includes a recently updated guide to accessible San Francisco hotels, tourist sites and transportation, but excludes bars and nightclubs from its listings.
According to www.disabilityplanningdata.com, whose data goes only to 2007, more than 44,000 county residents between the ages 21 and 64 are disabled.
The World Population Review (www.worldpopulationreview.com) claims that the current LGBT population in the city is fifteen percent.
To figure out how many LGBT disabled people live in the Bay Area will be left to statisticians, but it could approach a few thousand. Any casual survey of venues would be innacurate, since many people perhaps choose not to patronize bars and nightclubs that aren't accessible. A bar owner may claim that too few disabled people are among their patrons, and therefore they don't need to spend thousands of dollars in renovations.
In the next interviews, disabled gay and trans people share how, more often, it is they who are making accommodations for the venues, as they overcome barriers and some awkward social situations.
Getting Around
On a weekend night, Matthew Denney can probably be found at one of many South of Market or Castro bars. The 27-year-old, who hails from Portland, has lived in San Francisco for two years.
"I go to a lot of bars," said Denney. "The ones that are most accessible are The Eagle and the Hole in the Wall, where I go mostly because I like the music. The bathrooms are accessible, and so is the Lone Star Saloon. There are a lot of places I go that don't have accessible bathrooms." Denney has used crutches since he was seven years old.
"It's weird," he said of smaller bars like The Last Call on 18th Street. "They have a bathroom that has handlebars, but stairs that are really cramped."
Asked about other Castro venues, Denney said, "I used to go to 440, but stopped. The bathroom there is really awkward, and up a set of stairs."
Denney even told of other patrons who tried to carry him up the stairs.
"Random guys sometimes grab me and want to pick me up," he said. "I'm usually not too happy about it. People also think they can carry my beer. That happens a lot of times. Or somebody offers me a seat even when I say I don't need one."
Matthew Denney (right) at the Eagle patio. photo: Rich Stadtmiller
And although The Mix's patio is up a few stairs, Denney handles them, ignoring other people's reactions.
"I can do stairs, so I pretty much go anywhere," said Denney. "If I have any really weird experiences, I get turned off by the bar and don't go back."
Some of those odd interactions include people asking him, before even introducing themselves, if his disability is permanent or "'just for a while.' I get annoyed when people ask what happened, like they think I was injured."
With so many bars having stairs to get to part of their venue, usually the area with bathrooms (Moby Dick, The Powerhouse, The Mix, and even Twin Peaks), people with disabilities have to consider their nightlife options.
"That can be frustrating," said Denney. "Certain bars, especially bars that are more dance music-oriented, or cruisy like The Powerhouse, seem to be a little more confused about how to help people with disabilities. You don't really have a lot of choices, in terms of space."
Since we met at a street fair, I asked Denney how he navigates the outdoor crowds.
"I usually go to the street fairs in the morning," he said. "For me, it's not about other people being drunk. It's just the number of people. There's often not enough space because people don't look around themselves."
Denney said that Portland bars, many of them recently built or renovated, are much more accessible. "I can't think of any that have stairs," he said.
We discussed the enforcement of compliance with the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), which is only applicable to buildings built or renovated after a certain date.
"You only have to go into ADA compliance unless it's a newer structure, and businesses don't always have to make the modifications," he said. For example, The Lookout's stairs may impede some, but with other businesses next door, installing an elevator would be impossible.
Denney also has quite a few critiques about the inconsistent curb cuts in South of Market and elsewhere.
"There are a lot of weird intersections with curb cuts only on one side." He's looking forward to the completion of the Castro sidewalk renovations. "It'll be good to have wider sidewalks. That street's always been difficult."
As for getting around, Denney said he prefers taking buses over trains or cabs.
"I prefer to stay above ground, and cabs are too expensive." He mentioned escalators and the often out-of-service elevators as problematic.
"Some people think I'm crazy because I take the bus, but I actually like it." Since he lives less than a mile from SoMa, he often walks.
Denney has also met several men since he came out and started going to bars. Asked if any men may flirt with him because of his disability, he said he doesn't think so.
"I think guys are curious, and maybe that comes from the sort of desexualization of disabled people in media, the presumption that we don't or can't have sex. There has been a movement toward sexualizing the disabled body, in ads and elsewhere. But I don't think of it as a separate kind of thing."
Denney said he's learned to deal with other people's reactions.
"I do think there's a section of the population who just won't consider dating anyone with a disability. But I've had a lot of partners in my life, and I'm happy about that."
Scents and Sensitivity
Seeley Quest's performance work, poetry and essays have included aspects of various disabilities, including a strip-tease that revealed a back brace which Quest wore for a time.
"The work is mostly either my own writing, or performing as a character in different roles," said Quest. "The shows reflect multiple genres of types of artwork and reflect multiple experiences and disabilities."
But for the trans artist, who prefers gender-neutral pronouns, going out to bars, nightclubs and performance spaces can be a tremendous challenge.
"I have multiple chemical sensitivities that have developed while living in the bay, said Quest. "The amount of exposure to cigarette and pot smoke and other strong fragrances and chemical products that are used in bars, and their bathrooms; all those things make me ill."
Hir physical reactions include fatigue, dizziness and nausea, which Quest said, impact decisions about going out to any public space. When organizing events, like the Sins Invalid performance concerts, Quest said, "It's important to me that people try to show up as scent-free as they can, to not only support my health, but other friends who have different levels of chemical injury. Some people get more easily triggered than I do."
Quest is aware that many people may dismiss hir condition, but as our environment becomes more toxic, other people have developed such sensitivities.
"I don't go to bars much nowadays," said Quest. "A lot of that is just the fact that if I try to use the bathroom, I feel like I have to avoid it. The bleach and other harsh cleansers there effect me worse than any urine smells. It's becoming kind of a dealbreaker."
Quest does appreciate that California legislators have enacted tougher anti-smoking laws in public spaces, but the imposed distance is often not enforced near bars and nightclubs.
"From my experience, people go out to a club event, and a lot of folks are drinking, then people start smoking just outside and it drifts right in," said Quest. "I get an immediate headache; a lot of things happen physically. Quite a lot of people don't realize the impact this has on a lot of people's health. It's not specific to the queer community. It could happen in any kind of urban nightlife."
Quest referenced statistics of LGBT people having greater smoking habits. "It keeps me from going out and participating in social events at the level that I'd like to."
A resident of downtown Oakland, Quest has performed in spaces that are not wheelchair accessible, but would rather not.
"I don't have a mobility disability in the way that people understand it, said Quest. "I have had points where some injuries have made it trickier to access spaces with a lot of stairs. But it's not a dealbreaker for me so far. But politically, I'm less interested in perfoming in venues that are obviously not accessible to my friends."
Quest looks for venues with open windows, good ventilation, and a space-wide no smoking policy.
A recent visit to Oakland's White Horse Bar proved problematic when the smoking patio was divided from the indoor area by a panel. Smoke still permeated the venue, and Quest had to move to the far end of the bar, and eventually leave.
"As more people started coming in, the environment getting more crowded, the smells became overwhelming," said Quest. "My friends wanted to get together so we could hear each other talk. But it was next to a glass wall near the outdoor smoking area. The permeating smoke did start to get to me. As far as the chemical issue, there could be some more improvement."
Seeley Quest in a performance publicity shot. photo: Queer Lens Photography
When preparing for a disability-inclusive performance, Quest mentioned the numerous needs that can usually be met, including asking the management to refrain from using harsh chemicals or bleach to clean bathrooms, even up to a week in advance, if possible.
"Some people can even have seizures, depending on what kind of chemical stuff they get overloaded by," said Quest. "It really matters to have specific and clear communication with people who work at these venues. If you're planning an event at a bar, a well-intended manager really needs to be asked that smoking be further away."
Despite having such specific preferences, Quest said that such awareness is gradually becoming a reasonable choice, including at major supermarkets and small independent outlets. Quest said that hir nearby shops have begun to add scent-free environmentally-safe cleaning products, vegan and gluten-free food, and others organic considerations that avoid genetically modified foods.
"Some low-income people are asking for and demanding non-chemical products, with quality food, and not the heavily processed foods which are making them increasingly ill," said Quest.
"There hasn't been enough attention on low-income people who face toxic elements," said Quest who sees hir own specific condition as part of a larger issue.
So, what are some good East Bay venues?
Quest noted that most reputable theatres and performance spaces are fully accessible, such as Z Space and Brava Theatre. In the East Bay, Quest recommended the Subterranean Art House in Berkeley (at 2179 Bancroft Way, www.subterraneanarthouse.org), which includes art shows, musical acts, and dance nights. "It's essentially run by volunteers," said Quest, who has house-managed several shows there. "It's definitely queer-friendly and open to folks with various disabilities, and has featured trans performers and wheelchair dancers."
Also recommended by Quest is Flight Deck, (1540 Broadway www.theflightdeck.org), a new collaborative performance space in downtown Oakland. Quest describes it as "queer and crip-friendly. I'm a theater queen, so I'm excited that this is available by transit in an East Bay hub."
Finding a Home
For Hanz Bustamante, finding a place to be comfortable didn't take long after he moved to San Francisco in 2000.
Born in New York City, he also lived for a few years in San Diego. In New York, Bustamante frequented The Spike, The Eagle and other bars in Manhattan in the late 1980s and 1990s.
"I really like San Francisco," said Bustamante, 45, who spoke with me in an interview assisted by ASL interpreter Xavier Caylor. "I've made a lot of friends here. It's smaller, but that's good."
Anyone who visits South of Market bars in San Francisco may have met or seen Bustamante, who lives on the famed Ringold Alley (known for its history of being a cruise spot).
"My home is The Powerhouse," he said, as he smiled in understanding the street's history. "I decided that I wanted to live there, with its history, and it's been my home since then. I go to The Eagle from time to time for special events."
Bustamante even competed for a title of Mr. Powerhouse Leather 2014. But Hanz didn't compete to make a statement. "I'm not trying to promote deaf power; it's just my bar," he said. "It's my community, and I support them, and they support me. I look forward to representing my second home. I think I'd be a good person to carry on the history, to represent. If I were to get a title, I wouldn't want to get it because I'm deaf. I want to see the world and be part of that history. Not that many deaf people have been involved in the leather community. It would be a bit of a statement that deaf person can represent. I would be proud."
But would it raise awareness in and outside the leather community to disability issues?
"Many of the contests do a good job of providing interpreters and making them accessible. They've taken that on," said Bustamante.
In 2010, Tyler McCormick, a transgender wheelchair user, won the International Mister Leather title. Locally, San Francisco has had contestants in the International Deaf Leather competitions off and on since the title's inception in 1991 (www.internationaldeafleather.org). However, due to the lack of contestants, the 2014 title event was cancelled.
While he may not have deaf friends into leather, and few friends who know ASL, Bustamante knows how to enjoy his nights out, even for the music.
Yes, Bustamante said that he can feel the DJed music in bars.
"In New York, I went to dance clubs like The Roxy, The Tunnel. I would go late at night and dance. I did that for several years. But when I got to San Francisco, I knew what that was like." Hanz said Bud Chism has been a favorite. "I liked to watch him dance behind the DJ booth."
Hanz Bustamante competed in a recent Mr. Powerhouse contest. photo: Rich Stadtmiller
He also likes Guy Ruben and his House Party events.
"It was similar to the type of music that I like. I've been enjoying him over the years."
Among his deaf friends, a few go to other bars, but since their tastes are different, they don't always hang out.
"Some deaf guys I know always visit Badlands, The Mix, or 440, but they're not my kind of bar," he said. "There is a community that goes out, though."
Bustamante sometimes briefly uses his cell phone to text.
"But usually through body language, I do well as opposed to texting," he said. "But if they're not getting it, I'll write it. Every person has their own way. For people I've known longer, I can tell what's going on."
His connection to familiar venues is added by his often flirtatious nature.
"I have a good rapport in my usual places," said Bustamante. "Sometimes there are deaf people who don't know what to do in bars. They don't have my background of socialization. I sometimes wish that those people could step in my shoes and come with me."
Bustamante will sometimes go to events, with or without an interpreter, or whether or not a performance might be sign-interpreted or close-captioned. Most important to him is being with his friends, a core group of half a dozen people, "who know who I am. I bond with them, by hanging out with them. That group has grown, because they bring others in and introduce me."
Bustamante said he feels like he's part of a larger community.
Asked if he has experienced problems in bars, nightclubs or restaurants, he said he rarely has a problem, from ordering drinks to communicating with others.
"Some people can be friendly or snobbish, that's their thing, not mine."
"When I meet somebody new, I never know how it'll go. I like to introduce them to my friends. Whether it works out, it's great to be together, to be alive."
A bigger challenge is with employment.
"Going anywhere depends on whether I can afford it," said Bustamante. "Money is a barrier, since I don't have a job. When I go to apply, there are no interpreters, so I can't interview. I don't have access, so I can't get work."
But does he limit where he goes, because of past problems?
"I've gone to many bars, all over the city," he said. "But because I like leather, that's my community. I hear stories about other bars from deaf friends, and I've been there, but it's not my thing. I like the masculinity of the SoMa bars. I'm not saying everybody in Castro bars are effeminate, but they're not as edgy. It's not my scene. I enjoy all the scenes, you know, people into bears, drag, they're all part of our community. But I feel very secure in my second home."
Hanz likes the sexy aspect of Powerhouse parties, including the gogo dancers, and the anticipation of seeing friends show up.
Bustamante's connection to the Leather community goes back several years, including his participation in Mama's Family, the fundraising group of volunteer leather folk.
"We honor each other, our brothers and sisters, and I feel right at home, right where I am in this community," said Bustamante. "I'm very thankful for the support that I get. People outside of our family, they may not undertstand it, but I'm fine with that. Maybe the deaf community can see me here, and understand."