As 2026 approaches, why does Philly enforce health and safety codes, but not access codes?

Let me start with one that should be familiar to almost everyone in this city: Christmas Village. Every year, LOVE Park and Dilworth Plaza transform into a festive marketplace of lights, food, and family outings. And every year, it is blatantly inaccessible even after taking input from disabled Philadelphians. No tactile or navigational support for blind visitors. No adequate fair-way signage. Narrow aisles are impossible to navigate with mobility devices. Wheelchair users must locate small, poorly lit signs and then call someone to provide a portable ramp for individual booths, so if you want to go in and out of shops, you are now a spectacle. If you use a mobility device, you’re forced to navigate an obstacle course someone else gets to call “holiday cheer.”

A core contradiction

Philadelphia would never allow a food truck to operate even one day without proper sanitation. It would never approve an event that ignored fire exits or crowd-control requirements. Businesses get shut down every week for health violations. So why does the City of Philadelphia look the other way when entire public events violate disability access laws?

This is the contradiction at the core of our problem: Philadelphia enforces health codes, fire codes, electrical codes, and sanitation codes—but not access. And the message to disabled residents is unmistakable: our safety, our dignity, and our presence are optional.

I’m the founder and executive director of Disability Pride PA, so I say this not just as an advocate, but as someone who regularly organizes accessible events across the state. I have gone through the City’s permitting process many times. I have reviewed the checklists. I have sat through the meetings.

There is no mandatory accessibility plan tied to a permit. There is no inspection to verify ADA compliance.

And that failure becomes even more dangerous when you remember that accessibility is not just about getting in. It’s about getting out. Even when disabled people can enter an event space, there is often no emergency evacuation plan that accounts for us. No accessible route out of a crowd. No protocol for assisting wheelchair users if elevators are down. No guidance for deaf community members if alarms fail. No navigation support for blind attendees in a crisis. No sensory-safe emergency procedures.

Access without safety is not access.

A world-class host city?

As we approach 2026—when the eyes of the world will be on Philadelphia—this is more than negligence. It’s a civic liability.

Philadelphia is proudly branding itself as a “world-class host city” for 2026. Millions of visitors will pour into our parks, plazas, stadiums, museums, and historic sites. National and international audiences will watch how we handle crowd management, tourism, and public life.

But if we cannot make Christmas Village accessible for our own residents, how do we expect to host the world? How will we safely welcome disabled visitors from around the globe? What happens when an inaccessible event becomes the site of an emergency? Disability access is not a local inconvenience. It is global readiness.

Facing barriers

In my job, I hear from disabled people constantly. Families avoid city events because they know they will face barriers. Disabled elders feel unwelcome in their own hometown. Young disabled people want to participate in Philadelphia’s civic life, but the message they receive is that they were never included in the plan.

And while individual event producers share responsibility, this is not their failure alone. This is a system failure: a failure of leadership, policy, and enforcement.

If the City inspected accessibility the way it inspects food safety, we would not be here. If access violations were treated with the same seriousness as fire-code violations, disabled people would not face exclusion year after year.

“I know from decades of working with the disability community that accessibility in our public spaces is often an afterthought, if it is even considered at all,” councilmember Kendra Brooks said at the October hearing. “With so many people affected and so many public dollars going into preparation for these big events, the City must take the time to listen and respond to the needs of people with disabilities.”

Advocates at the hearing shared their suggestions for our 2026 celebrations, including ramps, seating space that accommodates wheelchairs and walkers, subtitles and ASL interpretation, accessible bathrooms, and many other needs.

Philadelphia must reflect its values

If accessibility were built into every permit, every major event, every festival, and every emergency plan—especially ahead of 2026—Philadelphia would finally begin to reflect its values.

The City must enforce accessibility not as a suggestion, but as a core compliance requirement. With 2026 on the horizon, the world is coming. The spotlight is coming. Scrutiny is coming. The question is whether disabled people will be included when it does.

According to data from the Pew Charitable Trusts and the City of Philadelphia's Office for People with Disabilities, one in six Philadelphians has a disability. Access for us is not a luxury. Access is not a favor. Access is a civil right.

I am asking—urging—the City of Philadelphia to enforce the standards it already knows how to enforce. If we can shut down a restaurant over unsafe temperatures, we can enforce a ramp. If we can prepare for millions of visitors in 2026, we can prepare to include disabled people, not as an afterthought, but as part of the City’s foundation.

If access isn’t treated like a code enforcement issue now, we risk not just exclusion but crisis when the world watches in 2026.