I Can’t Make It To Beyoncé

I was so excited when I bought tickets to see Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter Tour in LA. After decades of waiting, I finally got to see her live two years ago and it was one of the best experiences of my life. The journey to get there was demoralizing and infuriating, but also extremely common. As I wrote in my first Substack post, history has repeated itself and I can’t make it to the shows because instead of flying with American Airlines who I intentionally booked with due to the size of my wheelchair, the flight is being operated by a different airline with a smaller plane that can’t accommodate my chair.

Two years later and nothing has changed. I’m running into the same barrier that denied me that initial flight in September 2023. I had to cancel and was given a flight credit that I’m not sure I’ll even be able to use. For whatever reason, my local airport doesn’t seem to use the type of plane that can easily take my chair very often. That left me with an all but impossible solution: find a way to make the two hour drive to Portland and fly out of there. Unfortunately, that’s not so easy when the only help I have is from caregivers who are only here four hours a day, six days a week. I am not free to just get up and go wherever I want at any time; I spend the vast majority of my time alone in bed.

I’m writing this not to complain, but because I think it’s important to highlight that despite the platform I have, structural barriers still exist. Sure, I met Beyoncé and had my fifteen minutes of notoriety, but I still wake up in an ableist society. If I can’t make it work, what about people who are less visible than I am?

Just like I said in every interview I did back when my story had global attention, this is bigger than one concert. It’s about a serious lack of accessibility. I want every disabled person to have the freedom to do whatever they want. It shouldn’t be a question of whether we have the transportation available to enjoy the experiences everyone else does. We shouldn’t have to resign ourselves to missing out simply because society has built itself without us in mind.

To be brutally honest, it’s hurtful to be two weeks away from the shows and watching people prepare when I should be there, too. Adding further insult is the fact that suddenly no one seems interested in buying the tickets, even at what will be a financial loss for me. I’ve lowered the price more than $100 less than I paid and if they do sell, I’ll make just over the face value of one ticket total. More than the money, I’m surprised at how they seemingly went from the hottest commodity to not being able to sell them.

Times are hard and terrifying for so many. My form of self-care is concerts. That seems to be moving more and more out of reach for me. Even if I can’t make it to the shows, my work continues so that someone else can without the same barriers that I face.