AccessFest Canada: How Pop Culture Is Finally Showcasing Disabled Perspectives

Since I was a child, pop culture has been an integral part of my life and identity. My mother shared her passion through her record collection, and she took me to my first movie at three and to my first ballet at four. To the annoyance of other guests, she also introduced me to audio description during those events. To her, it was crucial to make culture accessible to me.

Some of my earliest memories are of record shops and buying my first album at three. As I grew up, I believed pop culture was a place for everyone, including disabled people like me. However, when I pursued a career as a music and culture journalist, I saw that disabled people were not just overlooked—they often weren’t welcome. Now, with festivals like AccessFest in Canada focusing on inclusion, there is hope for meaningful change and a sense of belonging.

Getting there, getting in, getting by, getting home

When you have a disability and want to attend a festival or cultural event, the planning required is far greater than for someone without a disability. It begins by checking whether the event’s website is screen reader-friendly, whether plain language is used, and whether accessibility information is available. Without these, many people are excluded before even considering buying a ticket. Questions about accessibility—such as whether you can bring assistance free of charge, if service dogs are welcome, or if you can specify your needs during ticket ordering—often go unanswered, making the process frustrating and sometimes impossible.

The German organization „Initiative barrierefrei feiern “, which aims to coach cultural organizations to be more accessible on, off, and backstage, conducted a survey in 2021 asking disabled people what their biggest challenge was in getting to a festival. Over 80 percent agreed on buying a ticket. Inaccessible websites and little information can make buying a ticket a nightmare, and a lot added that even trying to call or email was very often frustrating, as it sometimes felt as if they were treated like a liability. Someone who wasn’t actually welcome.

Even if you make it to an event, you may still feel unwelcome. Security staff can be stressed; they might ask if your wheelchair is in the way, comment that you might have taken a wrong turn, or ask your companions about you instead of speaking to you directly. Sometimes, access is simply denied. These experiences can make attending cultural events feel isolating rather than inclusive.

Inside, mobility challenges persist—bumpy ground can hinder wheelchair users, canes get stuck, and bar heights can make ordering inaccessible.

Getting home can be hard when you don’t know the way or where the next taxi stand or accessible tram station is.

Ultimately, if our access needs go unconsidered, it’s natural to wonder: do we truly belong in these spaces?

Pop culture as a means of identity

Growing up, I loved music and pop culture, but I rarely saw people like me—disabled individuals—in the spotlight. When Stevie Wonder’s “I Just Called to Say I Love You” became a hit when I was ten, it was the first time I saw a blind performer on television. It gave me a much-needed sense of belonging to see someone in the public eye who shared part of my identity. Still, as I searched for more disabled artists, I found few. Pop culture seemed to reserve its glamour for those seen as perfect, while disability was shut out, even in creative roles backstage. When I became a music journalist, I heard conversations doubting whether interviewing disabled artists or journalists might be uncomfortable for others. It was disheartening to realize that not only were disabled people absent on stage, but they were often excluded behind the scenes, too. Many in my peer group hid their disabilities, afraid of being pushed away from the world they loved. Yet pop culture thrives on individuality and authenticity. Why shouldn’t our disabled identities be part of that? Let’s claim our space and celebrate our full selves.

Pride and belonging

Over the last ten years or so, more and more activist groups and disabled culture lovers have started making a change. Building on the sense of pride and belonging, one of the newer festivals is AccessFest in Toronto, which started last year and took place for the second time on June 6th. AccessFest is a fully accessible festival where access needs have the highest priority, where disabled guests and their allies are welcome, and where disabled artists are not an exception, but make up the whole line-up. Festivals like AccessFest celebrate belonging and pride within the community and make access needs more visible to the public. With double-platinum-certified headline acts such as X Ambassadors, as well as panels and art focused on disability pride.

As much as I love the idea of an exclusive place where we are welcome, I also hope that the impact of greater visibility outweighs the allure of exclusivity. Transitioning from the benefits of exclusive spaces, I value my disabled identity, and I enjoy celebrating disability pride, but as disabled people, we have lots of different parts of our identities to celebrate. I am a proud disabled woman, but I am also a proud disabled woman of color, and I am proud when I do well at my job. We define ourselves in so many different ways, and I hope these festivals show everyone out there that we’re here and won’t go away, that we want to be seen and be part of culture, but we’re also happy for everyone to come and celebrate with us!

Last year, I interviewed British musician Robbie Williams for his current album “Britpop“. He openly talks about his mental health problems on social media, and during the interview, we talked about the fact that for a long time, he didn’t want to know or talk about his diagnosis. But he said that had he known about it when he was younger, he might not have ended up taking drugs and being defined as “the drug addict” by the press. Although he has now learned to openly talk about his invisible disability, he wishes that one day we won’t need those labels. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to talk about my challenges or be defined by them. Sometimes I just want to exist and be happy, without worrying about stigma. I even sometimes don’t want to think about identity, but just do what I do best on stage,“ he explains.

We need spaces for all kinds of pride—intersectional and exclusive—where everyone can celebrate together or within their community. Festivals like AccessFest help us demand a place in pop culture. Let’s use these events as catalysts for real, lasting change.

And if you want to hear what other people have to say about “Disability Pride”, we interviewed several people at AccessFest about it: