The invitation sounded simple enough: a Halloween party in a second-floor walk-up, packed with costumes, music and friends. But before I could decide what to wear, I had to calculate whether I could even get my wheelchair through the door. For people with disabilities in Chicago, that exhausting calculation isn’t the exception — it’s the rule.
Halloween should be about choosing a costume, not choosing which parties or sidewalks are off-limits. Yet in a city riddled with cracked concrete and uneven pavement, accessibility is still treated as an afterthought.
That’s why in early September, four Chicago residents filed a class action lawsuit against the city over inaccessible sidewalks. This is not the first time the city has faced lawsuits over the Americans with Disabilities Act. In 2005, Chicago was sued for similar ADA violations.
As Halloween approaches, these same sidewalks will be where communities gather to celebrate the season, potentially excluding people who use mobility aids and are unable to navigate the cracks, bumps and uneven ground. That includes the sidewalks around Columbia’s South Loop campus, where construction has made it a nightmare to get around.
With more than 520,000 Chicagoland residents living with a disability, which is approximately 10% of the total population, inaccessibility affects our neighbors, classmates and community members. It affects me as an ambulatory wheelchair user. Events are routinely planned in inaccessible venues without consideration of accommodations like ramps and ADA-compliant bathrooms. I even struggle getting in and out of the Chronicle newsroom in the 33 E. Ida B. Wells building because of issues with the automatic door.
Physical barriers are obvious to wheelchair users like me as vintage homes across the city climb high with steep front steps. Bars across Boystown have awkward stairs, immediately turning away certain disabled customers. Haunted houses are built without consideration for how their intense sensory elements can be exclusionary.
Some places do prioritize accessibility. At Columbia, student groups typically choose accessible places to meet in, and the Chicago Park District offers accessible Halloween events, including pumpkin patches and fall festivals. Various bars and museums around the city also provide accommodations and host Halloween-themed events.
This should be the standard.
But even when events themselves are accessible, getting there often isn’t. Not every CTA station has an elevator and train ramps can be difficult to navigate. Bus ramps and wheelchair locks are often broken. Without a car or someone willing to drive you, getting to an event can be next to impossible.
Chicago’s accessibility problem is not limited to cracked sidewalks or narrow doorways — it is about attitude. The city prides itself on celebrating culture and diversity while too often designing disabled people out of public life.
Real accessibility requires more than a ramp. It means including disabled residents in planning and decision-making at every stage. When spaces are designed for those with the greatest needs, everyone benefits, including wheelchair users, people with invisible illnesses, parents with strollers, elderly neighbors and anyone recovering from an injury. Accessibility is not a special accommodation, it is a blueprint for a safer, more welcoming city.
Chicago’s greatest strength has always been its communities. But strong communities don’t exclude their members.
This Halloween, we must ensure no one is left on the outside looking in.
Copy edited by Manuel Nocera
