By: Tim Donahue
Established in 1972 as a byproduct of hippie culture and the subsequent back-to-the-land movement [The Countercultural Back-to-the-Land Movement], Western Washington University’s Outback Farm has been a resource to promote self-sufficiency in the student body for decades. With community gardens, acres of trails, and a coop full of chickens, the five-acre farm was christened by a group of Fairhaven students who decided they wanted to live off the land. Working as a group, they built a barn, brought in cows and pigs, started the production of produce, and shared community lodging in the historic Burns cabin that is located on the hill next to Fairhaven college.
The Outback Farm stands as a monument to accessibility on campus. From the very beginning, the area has been a resource for Western students to have access to the outdoor opportunities that are unavailable to many while living in the dorms. Contradicting its own mission statement, the Outback Farm is paradoxically unavailable to its disabled community, which begs the question: how can a forested area be accessible to all when its enjoyment is virtually impossible for the disabled population on campus?
While the rolling hills and heavily forested trails might be the perfect backdrop for a student walking upright, the narrow trails and uneven ground are virtually impossible to traverse for a student in a wheelchair. While this might seem like an obstacle that is impossible to improve—the Outback Farm isn’t the Outback Farm without the barrier that is inherent to the rugged, rough terrain of the forest, right?—that’s not the way the staff is thinking about it.
The question, and ideas about integrating an accessible interface into the Outback, largely boil down to the amount of funding they have. The Outback Farm is considered a protected wetland, so solutions that require paving the walkways or changing the impact of the land in any intrusive way are non-starters. Many have considered wooden walkways as an option to rest above the wetlands, providing a smoother and more accessible surface for mobility while maintaining the integrity that makes the farm such a special resource for students on campus. This option, though sound, comes at the cost of immediacy for the students that are currently on campus. The wood would take time to put in, and the cost of the planks may even prove to be too much for the Outback to fund without the support of outside entities.
Temporary mats are used to provide access to many beach or lawn events on campus, and although it may seem like an intuitive fix to provide mats to be placed whenever a disabled student wants to use the Outback Farm as a resource for food and access to nature, there is a difference between true and performative accessibility.
Performative accessibility, in this case, would provide the mats as an option without spreading awareness about their availability, needs for funding, and the options of a more permanent solution. This kind of half-step tends to ostracize the population that actually needs these services by requiring them to jump through hoops in order to access the accommodations they need in order to enjoy the space.
True accessibility is what the Outback Farm is hoping for, they are in search of long term solutions that account for all body-types and barriers to the outdoors, and while these temporary solutions might be helpful in the short-term, there has to be some buy-in on the school’s end. Funding, especially comes as a hurdle in the way of everlasting change, and both the Associated Students and Fairhaven College need to see the accessibility of the Outback Farm as a priority before the students and staff that work there have any sort of a fighting chance at turning that space into one that is truly for all students at Western.
For more about the history, volunteer opportunities, and mission of the Outback Farm, visit: Outback Farm | Fairhaven College of Interdisciplinary Studies | Western Washington University