It's not easy being green

I am in my green kitchen, sat in the latest super-chic powerchair. It has recycled batteries recharged from solar panels. I drink from a sleek designer mug, made from recycled material. The light bulb is low energy and all around me my appliances are set to work at minimal energy output. I am dressed in quality green designer clothes made from ethically sourced natural materials. I’m drinking organic apple juice, from fruit grown in this country. My mains power is from a mini wind turbine and my water supply is recycled from the rain.

Too good to be true? Sadly, yes; I live on an estate and doubt my social housing association would tune into this scenario I aspire to. As it is, I hazard that I live at about 30 per cent green. I recycle glass, paper and plastic, buy organic selectively and do not buy cosmetics tested on animals or from unethical sources. In general, I try to incorporate green into my life as much as possible, a focus that goes back to my hippy-punk teenage years.

Yet as my personal politics as a disabled person sharpened, I became acutely conscious of the dilemmas of being green and having a reasonably accessible lifestyle. And these dilemmas remain, right into the 21st century, as we are seemingly being left behind in the race to be ecologically sound.

We may not be the only niche group to have less disposable income for environmentally-friendly living but the odds are stacked higher. One example – we are not in a strong position to buy the coolest car with the latest energy-efficient gizmos, especially if we have to load on the cost of access and expensive adaptations. If we give up hopes of owning a car, many “green” car-sharing schemes do not have wheelchair-accessible vehicles.

Technology is often an excellent means of removing barriers for disabled people, and I am no exception. I love my computer with voice-to-text, my cinema surround sound set-up, all the way to my little MP3 player. These things make life enjoyable and importantly they lessen barriers. Yet the negative pay-off must be increased energy consumption.

Clothes are another matter. I am an avid believer in retro-recycled clothing that can be sourced from secondhand shops. Retro is fashionable right now, and while I will never be convinced by 70s bell bottoms, I am in favour of resisting identikit global shop chains which do little to support appropriate clothing for disabled people anyhow. Retro clothing is altered easily, and has a stamp of individuality while being a greener choice.

In the wider sense, disabled people appear to be the exception to the green rule – this is both frustrating and discriminatory. It is unsurprising we are not an obvious part of the green equation, although it is hardly an inclusive approach to one of the most serious issues facing the planet.

On the surface, to be disabled is to be a greedy guzzler of energy and resources. A quick web search on “green/ecological and disabled” elicits nothing spectacularly relevant apart from the Green Party’s statement on disability, which is soundly social model – but, strangely, does not mention anything remotely eco when it comes to combining disability with ecological concerns.

The reality is we may need more warmth, we need equipment and hi-tech hardware that gobbles up electricity, and we need the cheapest food and products, as we are statistically caught in the benefits trap, which keeps us passive, and in poverty. What chance has a green consciousness against that?

So access, or lack of it, may be the crucial defining factor. Access in the sense of having enough income to buy into that green ideal. And in the end, for us all, disabled or non-disabled, it is ironic that those things which may make us green currently cost the most money. At this point in time, a sharpening of our own awareness may be the best way forward – questioning how much energy equipment uses, from wheelchair batteries to the latest type-talk gadget, so that manufacturers start to realise disabled people do have a green conscience as much as anyone else.