Keisha Greaves is the founder of Girls Chronically Rock
Winter has a way of exposing everything that’s already broken.
Cracked sidewalks become dangerous. Poor planning becomes unavoidable. And accessibility? That’s usually the first thing to disappear under a pile of snow, ice, and excuses. For many people, winter is inconvenient. For disabled people, especially wheelchair users, winter can be isolating, exhausting, and downright unsafe.
I want to talk about that.
Not from a policy standpoint. Not from a “best practices” checklist. But from lived experience. From the day-to-day reality of trying to exist in a community that was clearly not designed with people like me in mind, especially once the temperature drops. This isn’t about complaining. It’s about visibility. It’s about truth. And it’s about asking a simple question: Who are our communities really built for?
Sidewalks That Say ‘Good Luck’
Let’s start with sidewalks.
In theory, sidewalks are supposed to connect us, to stores, appointments, schools, public transportation, and each other. In reality, for wheelchair users, sidewalks often feel like an obstacle course designed by someone who has never pushed wheels in their life.
Now add winter. Snow piles up unevenly. Ice forms in the cracks. Slush refreezes overnight. And suddenly, what was already barely accessible becomes impossible.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve gone out only to turn back because:
- The sidewalk wasn’t shoveled
- Snow was piled directly at curb cuts
- Ice made it too dangerous to push forward
- Slush was so thick my wheels couldn’t move
People often say, “Just be careful.” But being careful doesn’t fix a blocked curb cut. Being careful doesn’t give me traction on black ice. Being careful doesn’t change the fact that my mobility depends on surfaces other people take for granted. When sidewalks aren’t maintained, disabled people are effectively told: Stay home.
Curb Cuts Are Not Optional
Curb cuts are not a luxury. They are not an “extra.” They are essential. And yet, winter after winter, they disappear. Snowplows push massive piles of snow directly into curb cuts, the very spots wheelchair users rely on to cross streets safely. What’s left is a wall of ice and snow that I physically cannot get over.
So what are my options?
- Roll in the street with cars
- Wait indefinitely for help
- Turn around and abandon my plans
None of those are acceptable. And none of those would ever be considered normal for nondisabled people. Accessibility that only works sometimes is not accessibility.
Public Transportation Isn’t Always Public
Transportation is another huge challenge, and winter makes it worse. Buses run late or not at all. Elevators in subway stations break down. Ramps freeze. Paratransit gets delayed or canceled. If you rely on accessible transportation, you already have less flexibility. Winter shrinks that flexibility even more. I’ve had days where I planned carefully, scheduled rides early, allowed buffer time, confirmed accessibility, only to have everything fall apart because of weather.
When transportation fails, it’s not just an inconvenience. It affects:
- Medical appointments
- Work commitments
- School
- Mental health
- Independence
Missing an appointment because of snow isn’t seen the same way when you’re disabled. It’s not “weather happens.” It becomes your problem to solve, even when the barriers are completely outside your control.
Businesses That Don’t Think Past the Front Door
Winter also highlights how many businesses claim to be accessible, until you actually try to enter them.
I’ve seen it all:
- Snow piled directly in front of ramps
- Mats that bunch up and block wheels
- Heavy doors with no automatic option
- Narrow entryways made worse by winter gear
A business might technically meet ADA requirements on paper, but real-world accessibility is about conditions, not just measurements. If I can’t get through the door safely in winter, then the business is not accessible. Period. And let’s be honest: many businesses don’t check. They don’t test. They don’t ask disabled people. Accessibility becomes an afterthought, especially when the weather makes it inconvenient.
The Emotional Toll No One Talks About
One of the hardest parts of winter accessibility challenges isn’t physical. It’s emotional.
It’s the constant calculation:
- Is it worth going out today?
- Will I be able to get back home?
- What if I get stuck?
- What if I fall?
- What if no one helps?
Over time, that mental load adds up. You start canceling plans preemptively. You stop saying yes. You isolate, not because you want to, but because the risk feels too high. Winter reinforces the message that disabled people already receive year-round: Your participation is optional. And that hurts.
“You’re So Brave” Is Not a Solution
When I do venture out in winter, I often hear:
- “You’re so brave.”
- “I don’t know how you do it.”
- “You’re inspiring.”
But bravery shouldn’t be required to go to the grocery store. Inspiration shouldn’t come from navigating preventable barriers. And admiration doesn’t fix broken infrastructure. What disabled people need isn’t praise, it’s access.
Accessibility Is a Community Responsibility
Here’s the part that often gets overlooked: accessibility is not just the city’s job. Yes, municipalities play a huge role. But accessibility is a shared responsibility.
- Homeowners need to shovel sidewalks properly
- Businesses need to clear ramps and entrances
- Property managers need to prioritize snow removal
- City planners need to design with disabled people in mind
When even one part fails, the whole system fails. And disabled people pay the price.
Winter Shows Us Who Gets Considered
Winter is revealing.
It shows whose safety is prioritized.
It shows whose mobility matters.
It shows who is expected to adapt, and who isn’t.
If accessibility disappears the moment conditions change, then it was never truly embedded to begin with.
True accessibility accounts for:
- Weather
- Aging
- Temporary injuries
- Chronic illness
- Mobility devices
- Fatigue
- Real human bodies
Anything less is performative.
What Real Accessibility Could Look Like
Imagine a winter where:
- Sidewalks are cleared evenly and promptly
- Curb cuts are protected during plowing
- Businesses proactively maintain access points
- Transit systems communicate clearly and reliably
- Disabled voices are consulted year-round
That’s not unrealistic. That’s intentional. Accessibility doesn’t require perfection, it requires commitment.
Why I Keep Speaking Up Anyway
There are days when it’s exhausting to keep advocating. Days when I just want to exist without explaining why a snowbank is a barrier. Days when I’m tired of asking for basic access. But I speak up because silence lets the problem continue.
I speak up because winter will come again.
And again.
And again.
And disabled people deserve to live full, connected lives in every season, not just when conditions are convenient.
Accessibility Is About Belonging
At its core, accessibility isn’t about ramps or snow shovels. It’s about belonging. It’s about whether disabled people are seen as full members of the community, worthy of safety, dignity, and independence. Winter doesn’t create accessibility problems. It exposes them. And once we see them, we can’t unsee them. The question is: What are we willing to do next?