28 Why Not Make the World Accessible and Equitable?

I am a librarian at UA and I run a makerspace called CATalyst Studios. CATalyst is a place in the Main Library with 3D printers, laser cutters, sewing machines, and other tools for anyone to use. We support a community of makers from all over campus. I took a circuitous path here, and am a strong proponent of meandering journeys. There is a pervasive and dangerous myth that you may be familiar with: one decides on a career at a young age and works hard throughout their youth to achieve that singular goal. Then, happiness and fulfillment are supposed to transpire from that monomaniacal work. I have met almost no one who promotes this story as having been their own.

That said, I must admit that some part of me always knew I wanted to be a librarian from an early age. I loved to read and always befriended the school librarians. When I had my first son, I went to my mother’s home and gathered some of my childhood books to bring back to Tucson. Little paper pockets were taped on the cover pages, designed for “library cards” — apparently, as a child, I converted my book collection into a lending library for my friends to use.

I grew up feeling like I didn’t have a choice: of course I was going to college. This was not up for debate. But as I revisit my family history, I am discovering that this family value was a bit complicated. My parents were teen parents, which was the legacy of my paternal family. My maternal family were immigrants from the Philippines and it was a core value for them that each of their children secure a high level of education to ensure a “better life.” As many a story goes, when my parents discovered they were pregnant with me, my father got to stay and finish college and my mother dropped out at 19. She did not return to finish her bachelor’s degree until 12 years later, as my father was finally realizing his dream to be a commercial pilot.

For me, understanding my own identity has been a long and complicated path. As a mixed-race person, I carry a white name, one that is very typically American. My face is ethnically ambiguous, something I was often proud of as a young woman; no one could really figure out who I was, and so I thought it afforded me some protection from racism, from white supremacy, from small acts of discrimination. And I’m sure it did. But as I became more “accomplished”– I achieved degrees, attained positions of power, became an authority in subject areas — my views changed. I never wanted to be perceived as a diversity hire, one who was filling a quota of making the staff more diverse. I have always had a strong sense of justice; I want people to be taken seriously for what they need, who they are, how they form part of the community. That is why I was initially attracted to public service, and still am. I want people to share their knowledge with one another, and make things accessible, because, why not? I honestly just think it is the decent thing to do, the right thing to do.

And now my work as a librarian is all about creating programming and services that are maximally accessible. I design workshops and learning spaces that consider learners first. I ask questions and try to create useful and enriching experiences. What do you need to be a successful creator? What do you need to be a successful researcher? How do you connect with the people and resources you most need? To be accessible, to be inclusive, to be equitable, you have to take everyone seriously, acknowledging them for their unique and individual expressions. There is not one monolithic learner. As I am sure you have noticed, this large university attracts many different kinds of people. Every single one of us comes from different circumstances and while not everything we design is going to be perfect for each of us, we can create responsive services to help make things easier. We can craft policies that make people feel welcomed and valued. We can make libraries where everyone is invited to be part of a community, to share their knowledge, and create new things.

In my work along the way, I discovered that there are so many who do not consider accessibility and equity at the core of the work they do. Their primary motivation to work is not to challenge the status quo, nor tap into the desire for equitable circumstances. Maybe these people have been working within systems that were designed for them. Maybe they have not experienced racism, sexism, classism, or other forms of discrimination. Or perhaps they have just decided it is too difficult to challenge the status quo or don’t feel like there is anything they can do to change it. I have learned that people need to be instructed, or reminded, how to be inclusive, how to be accessible, how they might act differently to the benefit of others. They need role models and examples and it is absolutely my job to create spaces and services that do this.

Today, my work is inextricably tied to my identity, to my experiences, to my journey. I couldn’t have learned all I needed for this job in a classroom and I couldn’t have done my work in such unique ways without my formal education. Our education is absolutely about becoming, evolving, and joining the experiences of our lives with the information we glean from others. My recommendation is to forge a path when you need to and “go with the flow” when you can; to honor your experiences in and out of the classroom, those planned and those unexpected. This is what makes your path unique, and it can’t always be predicted and controlled. But it can be celebrated and honored and it can absolutely help make the world better.

About the author

name: Jennifer Nichols

Jennifer Nichols is an associate librarian and director of CATalyst Studios, an interdisciplinary makerspace and VR/AR studio at the University of Arizona Libraries. Jennifer’s work is centered on supporting equitable practices within technology-rich spaces and fostering dynamic centers for interdisciplinary learning communities. She works with students, faculty and campus and community partners to support critical making, both in and out of the classroom. In her personal time she makes poems, gardens and delicious food for her family.

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