Disabled in Paris Ahead of Paralympic Games
Ornate “Metro” sign in front of a historic building.
By Arielle Dance
Just a week before the 2024 Paralympic Games, I visited Paris, France with my partner to celebrate our anniversary. We embraced the full tourist experience with walking, biking, and bus tours. Seeing the city dripping in Olympic and Paralympic logos was memorable. The pride of local residents was evident and the thrill from tourists was palpable. As a tourist, walking, biking, and navigating the Metro are the primary methods of transportation. During our visit, I had an awful flare of joint pain, making it challenging to walk and bike around the city. With my ankles braced, I struggled to move throughout the city and was brought to tears out of frustration and pain more than once. I found it nearly impossible to move swiftly or find comfortable methods of transportation for the majority of the trip.
During this monumental time in the city’s history articles and social media buzz about accessibility are heightened. In this Traveler article, Paris Prioritized Accessibility Ahead of the Paralympics—but Has It Delivered?, they recognize that Paris fast-tracked some accessibility measures and recently even passed several disability-focused laws. Some resources acknowledge that there are weaknesses in Paris’ accessibility especially related to the Metro. It is evident that the historic features and infrastructure of the city make it challenging to adapt some metro lines while some are fully accessible. Unfortunately, much of the accommodations are focused on mobility access and still lack features like captioning for hard of hearing commuters.
As I struggled up and down countless stairs, I wondered how local disabled folks and visiting Paralympians navigate the city with mobility devices and if they were unable to walk for long periods like me, what accommodations they found. I spotted numerous people using arm crutches and slowly taking the steps up and down to the metro. A person with a cane zoomed past me on the sidewalk as I slowly inched towards my hotel. Throughout my trip I noticed signs about accessible buses, increased accessible parking, and heard people mention the accessibilities they experience in their community. Like other metropolitan city transits, the Metro stations were not all accessible. Many stations had staircases in various directions but no noticeable elevators. Only near the Eiffel Tower, on my final day in the city, did I experience a station with an elevator and escalators. Aside from that, I struggled and slowly moved from one place to another.
On the day of our departure, we flew out of the Charles de Gaulle Airport. Upon arrival, I was greeted with the most ableism I’d experienced during my visit. Using my suitcase as a make-shift walker, I pushed my way to the terminal’s accessibility station but it was closed. Because we’d arrived around dawn, I assumed the accessibility station had not opened yet. I was exhausted and felt so defeated. I slowly made my way to the security checkpoint to ask for some assistance.
When I arrived, the two gentlemen checking passports were less than accommodating. I was immediately met with strange looks and questions from employees about my need for the wheelchair. In a mix of French and English they asked "You need a wheelchair? For what?". I was embarrassed that I needed to defend myself and felt judged and depleted. In hindsight, I am also ashamed that I didn’t call out their ableism in the moment. But after a week of suffering, I didn’t have the energy. I recognize that this interaction was with just two employees but ahead of the Paralympic Games, I wanted more from these employees. I imagined airport staff meetings about accessibility, hospitality, and anti-bias. On the airport’s website, there is information about accessibility, traveling with mobility devices, and even sunflower cards for non-apparent disabilities. The value of accessibility seems to be evident, but the assumptions made about what a disability looks like is still lacking.
I am not sure what I expected from a disability lens during my trip to Paris, but I truly hope other disabled people who traveled during this time were met with support and not discomfort. I hope they found every elevator, escalator, and resting station in the city. And I truly hope they were met with compassion and support during any times of need.
Arielle Dance (she/her) is a Writer at Diversability who identifies as a black queer woman with disabilities. A PhD in Mind-Body Medicine, Arielle is published across multiple online platforms and has an award-winning children’s book, Dearest One, that focuses on mindfulness and grief.