Editor’s note: I want to thank Couns. Tasha Henderson and Jaimie McEvoy for sharing their stories with me. I want to acknowledge that not everyone is comfortable discussing their medical histories, and both Henderson and McEvoy were extremely forthcoming in discussing their diagnoses and experiences. Both wanted to underscore the importance of creating a space on the topic of accessibility, both in the context of New Westminster and, in particular, in city halls.

While she was technically first spotted wearing them during a council workshop on the morning of Monday, Feb. 27, Coun. Tasha Henderson took to her Facebook page to talk about her very unique, rose-coloured spectacles—explaining why folks would be seeing them on her face moving forward.

“Hint: I will not break out into an Elton John tribute mash-up. (Unless requested.)”, Henderson wrote in her post.

“These glasses actually support some of the accessibility needs that I have. I got COVID in January of 2022, and it did a number on me,” she tells The Anchor. “My health-care team isn’t quite sure what happened, but we think [COVID] did nerve damage on the left side of my head in my vestibular system. As a result, I have a ton of concussion-like symptoms that I’ve been struggling with for the last year.” While Henderson says the symptoms have been improving, one of the those are tied to exposure to fluorescent lighting and screens. “[They] really trigger a migraine and headaches and make me feel quite dizzy.”

Despite being double vaccinated for COVID, Henderson wasn’t eligible for her booster while this was happening. Even though her symptoms were mild—something she recalls as being “like a cold”—the aftermath was tough.

“All the stuff that happened after, it was hard … I had to stop drinking alcohol and caffeine,” she explains, noting that she doesn’t really miss the alcohol because she wasn’t a big drinker prior to this. “But caffeine? I was a five-cups-a-day kind of gal. That was hard for me. I had to stop drinking those because [caffeine] immediately [made] me feel nauseous.”

Her optometrist asked her to invest in the pink glasses to help ease the exposure to fluorescent lighting and computer screens—a help for Henderson, especially when council-related meetings can take 12 hours of her day.

“I usually wear them all the time now for screens. It’s like putting a nice, soft filter on everything. I’ve been wearing it with the snow or when it’s quite cloudy—you know how the sky can feel really bright? I’m just getting used to them, though. I haven’t worn glasses in years,” she says.

“I also have this thing called nystagmus in my eye, which, when I look to the left, one eye doesn’t stop and focus; it shifts back and forth a little bit,” Henderson adds. “That’s a different thing than the lighting, but it’s all kind of connected, because for months I was so dizzy every day, like I’d just come off a teacup ride.”

At one point, Henderson’s doctors needed to make sure she hadn’t had a stroke, and she had other symptoms that appeared to be long-COVID. This was all on top of having to take care of two young kids at home, so she’s grateful to have answers to her health-related questions.

And there have been other challenges: in the midst of being diagnosed with these various conditions, she’d been campaigning to earn a spot on council.

Fast forward to today, and it’s been five-ish months since the first-time city councillor has taken her place at the City Hall horseshoe. For Henderson, it’s been a learning curve—not only getting used to the procedures tied to being a municipal politician, but also navigating life with her diagnoses.

“It’s really opened my eyes—pun intended—around the various spectrum of needs that people have in order to fully participate, and the ways in which we need to be thinking about … people who have physical limitations … people who have neurological limitations, or chronic illness that we just don’t see.”

“When I shared [my condition] on social media, it felt like a … light-hearted way to open up a conversation around [it].”

What do other councils do?

Taking part in council meetings—or any kind of meeting at City Hall—is already a challenge for the general population. It can be difficult for someone to juggle a work/life balance, especially if they are working multiple jobs or taking care of children or an older relative.

“Diversity in representation is pivotal in ensuring all voices can be heard at the decision-making table…Canadian municipalities have a long way to go in diversifying local government. Only 31% of respondents are women, 91% are white, 70% are 50 years old or older, and white-collar professionals are heavily overrepresented,” reads a passage from the Samara Centre for Democracy, after publishing a study in 2021 tied to a survey of municipal politicians in Canada.

Adding in the experience of accessibility amplifies the obstacle. It’s been talked about many times over, but you don’t have to go too far back for examples of discussion on this: during Monday, April 17’s special meeting on the budget, both councillors and the public delegation noted they wanted to hear from other people in the community who might not be able to participate in the way some others have.

The majority of meetings are open to the public for transparency and accountability’s sake; the only exception being closed or in-camera meetings, usually done, as an example, when a human resources or legal matter is in play.

While there is a bit online regarding how the general public can attend, some of the requirements around electronic participation by a member have some flexibility. In the case of a councillor participating over Zoom, the province says “it may be helpful if electronic participation is permitted in the procedure bylaw.”

While you’ll be reading about some of the ways councillors are accommodated in New West, we reached out to some of other municipalities in the province to find out what they do to make sure there is support.

In Vancouver, a check-in on accessibility is done during on-boarding and inauguration, according to a spokesperson for the City of Vancouver. “The Office of the City Clerk, the City Manager’s Office, and facilities staff would then coordinate to make sure all required retrofits are done in a timely manner,” they explain, adding that in previous years, they’ve added automatic doors, accessible washrooms, and a ramp to the mayor’s chair in chambers.

The City of Surrey tells The Anchor it worked with the Rick Hansen Foundation (RHF) and its Accessibility Certification program. “Many of the City’s facilities have received a rating of ‘certified’ and six facilities have received ‘RHF Accessibility Certified Gold,’ which is the highest level of accessibility standard,” a spokesperson explains.

“Equity, Diversity and Inclusion (EDI) has been identified as an overarching theme and top priority for the City of Coquitlam, and accessibility is a significant consideration within that body of work. As such, we are committed to accommodating and supporting the accessibility needs of Council, as well as our staff,” a spokesperson for the City of Coquitlam tells The Anchor, noting that in June of last year, it introduced new leave procedures leading up to last October’s election, in the hopes of removing barriers for future candidates.

This included paid personal leave for maternity, parental, compassionate care, or caregiver purposes. The EDI initiatives in Coquitlam are based on four focus areas: foundational, bridging, external, and internal.

A multi-year experience with council and accessibility

Those who have attended previous meeting may have heard some feedback from Coun. Jaimie McEvoy—he’s been very open about why during meetings and was also very open with The Anchor about his situation. Along with the recent development of arthritis in his spine, McEvoy has dyspraxia and is also hard of hearing: he was born with the latter two.

“[With] dyspraxia … my perception to physical space is the same as everyone else, but the translation of it into my brain, that doesn’t necessarily work well. It’s usually diagnosed in childhood when a kid is otherwise doing well, but they take forever to tie their shoes, ride a bike, or learning to write,” he explains. “Growing up with dyspraxia leads to a lot of injuries … I’ve been in ambulances 22 times in my life as a result of some injury or other,” he notes, adding that about a quarter of people with dyspraxia are diagnosed as autistic. In his case, his symptoms are considered similar to autism, but less specific.

“When I was young, it was just called Clumsy Child Syndrome, and it was just treated as clumsiness. In reality, it’s a typical condition with those physical aspects. Space is a challenge for me.”

McEvoy points to the corner of a floating shelf in the office he shares with Couns. Daniel Fontaine and Paul Minhas, noting that he’s far more likely to bang his head on it than the other two are. He adds he’s walked into more tables than he can count, and he has crutches he keeps in the room just in case he struggles to move around.

“It tends to get better as you get older; you get better mostly because you’re in familiar environments. Unfamiliar environments are worse, so I usually get some small injury when I’m on vacation somewhere.”

McEvoy also has what’s thought to be profound hearing loss. He relies on closed captioning to follow along during council meetings. He was born with mild hearing loss but was recently diagnosed with severe hearing loss, having been at the latter level for the past year. During our interview, he played the following YouTube video to illustrate what his hearing is like. Watch for the “mild” and “severe” distinctions on the bottom right of the clip—that’s approximately McEvoy’s hearing level.

The five-term councillor also goes to an audiologist every six months to get his ears checked. Recently, there’s been an adjustment every time he’s gone.

“In the council chamber, I wouldn’t be able to participate in a conversation normally without my hearing aids. There’s too much distance between people, there’s too much HVAC in the room, fans, things like that. So, I have either two things: one is a device with the city that I put on top of my hearing aid, and it allows broadcast from the microphones to the device, and I can adjust the volume on that as well. That’s where the feedback comes from,” says McEvoy, adding that he’ll sometimes forget to turn off the device—hence the feedback.

Because he’s had hearing loss his entire life, and his brain is used to the exercise, he is also able to lip read. In a quiet, office-like setting, McEvoy says his word recognition rate is at 90%.

McEvoy’s second option is to rely on closed captioning. “That’s fairly difficult, because you’re running on two lines of information. I invite anyone to turn on closed captions, turn off the sound, and stare at the closed captions for hours on end,” he says.

When asked about fully learning and using sign language, McEvoy pointed out that having dyspraxia—combined with the hand movements sign language requires—would provide another layer of challenges. Though, he notes he’s done some sign language from time to time during meetings for folks watching at home.

He’s also very strategic about where he chooses to have meetings: along with soundscaping City Hall to figure out which rooms he can have conversations in and which rooms he should avoid, he’s also figured out certain parts of the city where it is easiest for him to meet people for coffee. He’ll often choose the Waves in Downtown New West, because it’s easier for him to hear people there—and he’s very used to the space, mentally bookmarking specific seats that allow him to hear the people he’s conversing with.

McEvoy used to do a lot of walking, though he told us in our last interview with him in November that he’s had to reduce the amount of walking he does due to the arthritis in his spine. To make his way around the city, he either takes transit or taxis. “I don’t run across the street or anything like that. I don’t drive because of dyspraxia—unless you count farm fields in Saskatchewan,” he remarks with a chuckle. “I took driving licensing tests three times and I immediately just started falling behind.

“If there was a cure for dyspraxia, I would take it and I would take music lessons. I would love to do that. But God, do we ever get a lot of, ‘Oh, just try!’ and it’s like, ‘No. I literally cannot do it.’ We’ve gone through a lifetime of experiences of trying to do things.”

McEvoy noted he actually toyed with the idea of not running in this most recent election because he’s anticipating a decline in his lip-reading skills.

“I had the somewhat self-defeating idea in my head that 90% of my job is listening to people. Some people [said to me], ‘Jimmy, that’s not a progressive point of view.’ I find it harder to advocate for myself than I would for another person.”

As with Henderson, McEvoy says the city has been great when it comes to accommodating him. However, he believes there is still a ton of work that not only needs to be done generally, but especially at the City Hall level. As an instance, having consistent standards that are not only modern and up to date and thoughtful.

“When somebody becomes a councillor, they typically don’t know a lot of this stuff, right? And I think in British Columbia as a whole it needs to be built in. If someone gets elected to any level of office, there needs to be a process where they can identify—by choice—identify their disability and accommodation starts to take place, right? There are city councils in British Columbia where you can’t get into the council chamber without going through a stairwell.

“We don't really have a good process for identifying the disabilities of people and accommodating them. It’s been the opposite. There's a legal requirement not to discriminate, and there's a duty to accommodate, right? That's great. The employee still has to, essentially, at some point, [speak] about their disability,” he adds, making note of the RHF’s accessibility certification, which he says only works for very specific disabilities.

“Accommodations do needs to happen. I do know that. But we have a long way to go in our society [to] go from sympathy to solidarity. And solidarity will mean more professional knowledge and more ongoing effort. Let’s make space for people to feel comfortable and empowered to let us know what their accessibility needs are. Because while the job isn’t for everyone, we need to make sure the job is for more people than it has been.”

Henderson reads her city council packages on an e-reader so she doesn’t have to read them on a bright computer screen. The conversations with the city, Henderson adds, have been very productive.

“These invisible accessibility needs, and people who are living with disabilities, who feel invisible, they’re all around us. We just don’t know. And so, if we’re always talking about building a more inclusive community, we need to be including those people as well.”

Like McEvoy, Henderson says she too had to get used to advocating for herself. She hopes others will do the same if there’s a health issue they believe needs another look.

“Discrimination runs rampant in health care as everywhere else, and health-care workers can sometimes have unconscious bias. Sometimes you need to advocate for yourself in a really overt and powerful way to get the support that you need. But it's OK to take up that space if you feel like you do need support. Even if it feels like something minor like pink glasses.”

Editor’s note: a previous version of this noted Coun. McEvoy was deaf. This has since been clarified to note he has profound hearing loss. Additionally, his hearing loss has recently reached the ‘severe’ level. New West Anchor regrets the error.