The disability tax

As concern around the cost of living rises, Briana Blackett sheds light on a lesser-known barrier to an accessible world.

I picked up the tub of paint, turned toward my son, and threw it at him. He screamed with joy then threw his paint tub on me. We both scrambled for the balloons, also paint-filled, and tossed them at each other with alarming determination. Surprisingly, they bounced. We jumped on them instead, revelling in the explosion of colour beneath our feet. This was our first visit to a ‘splash room’ and we were having a fantastic time. But we won’t come back again.

That’s because my son had to pay twice to take part. And he was charged double because he has a disability.

Don’t get me wrong. The price list didn’t have one fee for disabled people and another for non-disabled people. It’s just that my son, due to his disability, needed the assistance of a support worker to join in. This was what he was charged extra for. 

My other son, who also has disability, needed one-on-one help to paint the walls and canvases with giant brushstrokes. One of their friends needed physical support to lift and throw the paint tubs. In fact, all four children who were in that splash room could only take part with the assistance of someone else.

Some organisations don’t charge disability support workers the entry fee, knowing they provide a crucial link between someone taking part or not. But others, like this venue, charge both the disabled person and their support worker. This is what my family calls the disability tax. The extra money we pay to take part in the same things as non-disabled people. 

And it’s not just small businesses that charge disabled people this tax. I’ve pretty much given up on getting tickets to big events. Many online ticketing platforms don’t have the option to book disability supports. The websites tell me to email them with my particular inquiry. Typically I don't hear back until after the tickets have sold out. One time, they responded after the event I was trying to buy tickets for was over. I’ve also spent hours on hold, trying to contact ticket sellers - only to have automated messages tell me to try online.  

Without even knowing it, major acts and events that use these ticketing systems are forcing my disabled kids to either pay twice if they want to come, or simply not come at all.

The federal government recognises this is a problem. It has created the Companion Card, a scheme which allows free admission for people supporting people with disability. It means if my kids catch a train or go to the movies, for example, they pay for their ticket but their support worker attends for free. 

Sadly, not all venues recognise this card. For those that do however, it makes all the difference for a family like mine. Without it, some things are simply financially inaccessible. 

This aspect of accessibility is rarely discussed, however, it is hugely important.

Data gathered by the Australian Institute for Health and Wellbeing (AIHW) confirms that people with disability “tend to be worse off financially than those without disability. This can affect their ability to raise funds in an emergency, pay bills or buy food. Some people with disability have to seek help from friends, family, or welfare and community organisations.” 

In its report “Caring Costs Us”, Carers Australia outlines the financial impact of supporting a loved one. Hundreds of thousands of dollars over a lifetime – and I suspect it’s even more for parents caring for disabled children who likely leave work earlier and for longer - forgoing both regular income and retirement savings.

With this in mind, it’s not surprising that – when faced with paying double or not at all – some people with disability, or their carers, may choose to simply not take part.

Without even meaning to, organisations that charge the disability tax are making their venues or events less accessible to people who might already be facing additional financial hurdles.

So, as I wash paint off my kids’ hands and chat cheerfully with them about our fabulous day, I’m careful not to promise that we’ll go back. Instead, I’ll look for venues that won’t charge them extra to take part.

And if we really feel the urge to throw paint at each other again, we’ll wait for a bright sunny day, put on some old clothes and head out into the backyard.