Scuffed doors and an open mind: The truth about inter-abled flatting

Flats are curious, complicated things: tiny little samples of society all wrapped up in a weatherboard bungalow in suburban Palmerston North. The happiest and healthiest flats run like little units of chosen family; sharing with, caring about, and respectful of all who live there. But while every flat has its own unique dynamics, it’s not often you hear about flatmates with complex disabilities. I know first-hand the fears that many disabled youth have about trying to go flatting, because I had them myself. So to bust these myths once and for all, I decided to interview my flatmates to find out how we make our happy, healthy, inter-abled household work.

Living in our flat we have a maths tutor, a supermarket employee, a vet student and a content creator, all in our 20’s. Our favourite things about the happy little household we have together are our shared Christian values, our generous sharing — of food, chores, movie nights, tools, rides, special occasions, time — and the effort we each make to come together and truly connect. Despite many differences, we make time to bond over what we have in common.

The house is small and humble with a kitchen and living room at the heart, with bedrooms and bathrooms to the north and south, and to the east is the back garden with a sleepout tucked in the back next to the chickens. The ramp up to the veranda leads to an automatic sliding door past a collection of wheelchairs and walkers. Inside the house there are scuffs on the bottoms of the door frames and patches of threadbare carpet - the universal sign that a wheelchair-user lives here. There’s also a chunk out of the wall outside the landlord’s room where her wheelchair footplate crashed into it earlier this year.

Yes, there are indeed two wheelchair users who live in our flat. Bethany, the maths tutor and landlord of the house, has Friedreich's Ataxia, a rare form of muscular dystrophy, and uses a powerchair. And I have Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, a dynamic, multisystemic, degenerative connective tissue disorder, and I use a manual wheelchair at home. Our other flatmates are two lovely Samoan girls - Ruth who currently works at a supermarket and Pese who is studying veterinary science. When we give people this outline they’re often a little surprised and I understand because it surprises me a little too.

I was eager to ask my flatmates what they found different about living in an inter-abled flat, but their responses were thoroughly anticlimactic. I didn’t expect to hear major complaints, but I also didn’t expect there to be none at all, which is exactly what happened. I’d hoped to uncover some juicy point of difference, because deep down, I always fear there is something so hard about living with disabled people that it would drive potential flatmates away. And yet, neither us disabled housemates nor our non-disabled comrades had a single difference to point out beyond the practical elements of accessibility, the presence of support workers, and the occasional physical assistance needed for Bethany or myself. In Bethany's words there is “nothing big or bad, it’s just different”.

The hardest part of flatting for me is my own fears and insecurities about my needs for a lot of time to rest, recover, and process. I worry what that must be like to live with. Yet, chatting to my flatmates I did not uncover this fear as a reality. This gorgeous group of girls will always do their best to be understanding and respect that I deal with lots of pain, fatigue, and overwhelm. Unfortunately, evidence to the contrary is yet to calm those anxieties which are reinforced by an ableist society. Bethany echoes this fear of being a burden as the hardest part of flatting, including the failure of reason in quieting our fears. Yet these worries are clearly not coming from our housemates - Pese’s only frustration with the flat is having to cross the property to the main house from her sleep-out to use the kitchen and bathroom!

Bethany and I have both learned the futility of human comparison. The physical and social challenges we experience are largely a point of commonality and connection but also largely very different from one another. She says: “There’s things you can do that I can’t, but there’s things I can do that you can’t.” And on the inevitable occasions we’ve each been tempted to try to determine who has it better or worse, we share a prompt nauseating realisation that attempting to do so is pointless. We are repeatedly reminded how disability can impact people in different ways. 

Pese says she has a deeper gratitude for the ease with which she can do ordinary tasks like cooking, transport, and using the bathroom. She chooses to use this capacity to help keep shared spaces accessible with clear floors. It makes all the difference that these things are done out of gratitude and appreciation, rather than guilt or pity. No disabled person needs pity but I also think we want non-disabled folk to appreciate and do good things with their privilege. Ruth appreciates that Bethany and I are “special and unique in your own ways. Both independent, very talented, open-minded and genuine people,” with skills and perspectives in certain areas which many non-disabled people do not have. Her preconceptions on disability have been challenged and she will forever carry that new perspective out into the world.

So while the makeup of our flat may be surprising, I hope it may also inspire others to realise the possibilities of flatting with disabilities. Ultimately, it’s the unique makeup of people that make our flat great. We are all happy and enriched while living here and there’s no reason others couldn’t experience the same.

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