Inaccessible Format – An Email on the Campaign Trail

By Dominick Romeo

One night after I got home from a long day on the campaign trail in District 3, I received a peculiar email from a resident in my district who criticized my campaign’s website.

“Hi, I tried asking a question on your website, but the form for that isn’t screen reader accessible, meaning blind people can’t write to you. This lack of digital access is the rule, rather than the exception, in NYC, in all the forms and web sites I’ve needed to use to attempt to communicate with and get services from my city.”

Highlighting his key points in bold, he said had reached out to his current council member who wasn’t interested in the larger problem at hand. Nor were other council members he contacted when he lived in other districts. “They would just fill out forms for me, one problem at a time, with one particular website, but nobody will address the larger access rights I supposedly have via Section 508 of the federal rehabilitation act that goes back to the 1980s,” he wrote.

“What did I do wrong?” I asked myself. I have a particular soft spot for those with disabilities. I have friends who are wheelchair users. When they come for a visit, I plan a route for us to navigate through our city streets. I know which corners don’t have a sidewalk curb-cut or are inaccessible due to construction detours. I know which restaurants provide ramps so we could both eat there. I, too, have a disability. I am a dyslexic person who must rely on similar accessibility functions on devices to write basic emails or news articles.

“So, I can’t say anyone is doing better, but I’d like to hear that perhaps you will at least clean up your own site, and maybe even that as a council member would see to it that blind, and print disabled New Yorkers, finally get the equality promised in all those laws, and lawsuits in the past that ruled in our favor,” he continued.

Being completely ignorant of most of what Anonymous had written, I googled Section 508 of the U.S. Rehabilitation Act. This is a federal law that mandates federal agencies provide individuals with disabilities equal access to electronic information and data. This applies to all aspects of electronic and information technology including its development, procurement, use, and maintenance.

I had many questions to ask Anonymous, so I invited him out to dinner. Ironically, even though this restaurant was “accessible” I had trouble finding it. When I finally found it, I couldn’t figure out how to enter the establishment. It was tucked between two Hudson Yard buildings and I had to navigate through a very confusing courtyard. I then realized that if I had difficulty finding this place, that Anonymous must be lost.

I called his cell phone and he said, “I’m standing in front of Building One West.” I told him to stay there and I would come and pick him up. But he wasn’t where he said he was standing. I called him back and he said that he wasn’t sure whether the restaurant was on the east or west side of Ninth Avenue. After some searching, I discovered he was across the street, standing in front of the Moynihan Train Hall with his guide dog, Bella, after his map app misguided him there.

During dinner, Anonymous explained the difficulties he has filling out basic government forms online ─ something those with sight take for granted. He also explained his main problem with my website ─ a website I designed using one of those designer apps. My site wouldn’t allow him to send me an email. The accessibility functions he was using on his iPhone prevented him from moving the cursor to the subject line, let alone the body of the email and so he was unable to reach me.

“Inaccessible format! Inaccessible format!” he yelled at me while explaining the difficulties he has while making a 311 complaint. At the same time, he slammed his hand on the table so hard that Bella, who was tucked away under our table, peeked her face out to make sure that her owner was OK.

We can do much better than this, New York City Council.