0:00: The DEI webinar I’m attending starts on time. No materials are shared up front or in advance. I spend 9 minutes trying to figure out how to enable auto-/closed-captioning (CC), to no avail.
0:09: In Attendee Chat, I ask the Admin for help to enable CC. No response.
0:13: I follow up, adding this is an accessibility request, with my thanks. I get a reply they are looking into it. (Another attendee, trying to help, even offers a suggestion to the Admin.) #aLLyship
0:30: Admin says they’d finally learned that the platform settings in place for this webinar would only offer captions 2-3 hours after it ended.
*Deep breath, Tara.*
Now, before I continue, I do want to acknowledge that the webinar platform Admin was apologetic, thanked me for bringing this important issue to their attention, and expressed specific intent to address it for future webinars. Well done.
Also, in an effort to advocate for myself and for others who rely on CC as part of webinar accessibility, I shared that…
- as a result of this matter, I was unable to fully engage or participate in the webinar;
- I’d look forward to receiving the promised webinar recording;
- I’d appreciate an accompanying transcript; and
- I thought this experience was “a great learning opportunity to reflect on ensuring greater accessibility for all” (hint hint).
I also expressed my sincere thanks.
And now, I’d like to vent a bit.
The webinar ended over 20 minutes ago, and in my body, I can *still* feel the emotions that came up. Maybe you’d guess I felt…
- Surprised (“Really? Wow, I didn’t see this coming.”)
- Irritated (“Reeeally. Yup, I sure saw this one coming.”)
- Bemused (“During an *inclusion* webinar, of all things!”)
- Angry (“I am so sick and tired of being ignored.”)
- Confident (“I’ll let them know, and they’ll fix it.”)
Sure, there was some of those. But there were other emotions, too. I admit, I felt all of these:
- Disappointed at the lack of material made available before – or even at the start of – the event (although I’m very much used to this, therefore I didn’t feel Surprised).
- Flustered as I searched in vain for a way to turn on CC so that I’d have at least a chance of “keeping up” with the live webinar.
- Embarrassed and Not “normal” at having to ask publicly for help.
- Insignificant when there was no immediate reply to my request.
- Appreciative, but also Self-conscious when others felt compelled to step in.
- Lost as I tried in vain to keep up with the webinar while this was all going on.
- Hurt and somewhat Humiliated when I learned accessibility was not only forthcoming, it hadn’t been given advance consideration.
- Uncomfortable when I asserted my concerns.
- Tense and Left out – and maybe even a little Envious of the other attendees – during the Q&A when I didn’t know “where we were”.
[To boot, this webinar was geared toward “executives”. I couldn’t help but wonder at the assumptions at work here, i.e., that “executives” couldn’t possible need accessibility (add to my emotions: Inferior).]
Look, I don’t share all of this as some sort of confessional, or to shame anyone, or to invite pity. I share this because frankly, as a professional in this field, I can develop all the workshops and speak at all the events on earth on the topic of DEIB, neurodiversity, and accessibility. But until folks see that behind all those metrics and policies and “toolkits” are PEOPLE – people who are prevented from making their brilliant, tremendous, extraordinary (and yes, even mediocre) contributions – well… nothing changes.
P.S. And while we’re on the subject, can someone PLEASE tell me where WordPress lets me add alt-text to images?? *Sigh*…