Messages from our CEO: Kickin’ It with Kimberly
It’s essential to us that we keep you well-informed about current issues and barriers affecting people with disabilities. Our CEO, Kimberly Tissot, recognizes that you are at the heart of our efforts to promote disability rights, justice, and freedoms. Letters will be written to you, our key supporters, about the injustices we uncover and the solutions we can offer as a disability-led organization.
February 2026
Kickin’ It with Kimberly: We Don’t Have to Play Parking Space Hunger Games
Every legislative session brings a bill that sounds compassionate at first, only to become complicated five minutes later. This year, one of them involves disability parking. A proposal would allow pregnancy alone to qualify someone to use ADA accessible parking spaces. South Carolina isn’t alone, as similar bills are appearing across the country. So, this isn’t just a state misunderstanding; it’s a national conversation about what accessible parking is actually for.
Let’s start here- I have heard from people with lived experience– pregnancy is hard. No one enjoys trekking across a blazing parking lot in August, and supporting pregnant people is good policy. I’ve never been pregnant, but I don’t have to personally experience something to understand people deserve support.
But accessible parking was never meant to be a general “closer parking” program. It exists for a specific purpose: access when a body physically cannot safely travel the distance. For many disabled people, that space isn’t convenience but it’s the only way the trip happens at all.
These spaces are also structured by law. The ADA requires a fixed minimal number of parking spaces based on lot size, and each one must include precise dimensions, wider spaces, and a striped access aisle so wheelchair lifts can deploy, doors can fully open, transfers can happen, and people can stabilize with mobility devices. The Accessible parking sign even has particular measurements, as does the surface of the spaces. Those standards aren’t a perk. It is the accommodation. A pregnant person can use a standard-size spot. Many disabled people simply cannot.
And accessible parking isn’t just for wheelchair users. People with heart or lung conditions who can’t tolerate distance. People with neurological conditions affecting balance.
People with prosthetics and endurance limits. People with chronic pain or fatigue rationing energy just to function.
Some disabilities are visible. Most aren’t. But the barrier is the same: distance can prevent entry entirely.
I’m one of those people. I have one leg, joints that function my way, and I use twice as much energy to walk with crutches as non-disabled people. I rely on that proximity and space just to get safely from my car to the door.
That striped aisle beside the space? That’s where a wheelchair lift opens. If it’s blocked, the person in the van literally cannot exit the vehicle — not delayed, not inconvenienced, but stuck. The appointment, job, class, or grocery trip ends before it starts.
This isn’t theoretical. I’ve missed meetings because all accessible spaces were taken and the distance was too far. I’ve stayed in my car and never gone inside at all. And before expanding eligibility, we should be honest: enforcement is already limited and misuse already prevents participation.
Here’s where policy turns into musical chairs. Accessible parking is a fixed resource intended for people with specific functional barriers. Expanding eligibility doesn’t help — it creates competition over civil rights infrastructure.
And we shouldn’t frame this as pregnant people versus disabled people anyway. These communities overlap constantly. Disabled people get pregnant. Pregnancy can create temporary disability. Families live in both realities at the same time. Taking access from one group to help another isn’t equity, it’s redistributing scarcity.
The irony? Disability law already has a solution. If pregnancy creates a mobility-limiting condition, a doctor can authorize a temporary placard. That keeps the focus where it belongs: what your body functionally needs, not your life stage.
If lawmakers want to support pregnant people, yes, please, there are better options:
- pregnancy-designated courtesy parking
- faster temporary placards
- more seating in large facilities
- real supports that don’t close the door on someone else
Accessible parking is civil rights infrastructure. It’s the ramp before the ramp. Once it’s gone, there isn’t a backup plan inside the building.
You’ll also notice I don’t use the term “handicapped parking.” That term doesn’t exist in the law as the correct term is accessible parking. Language matters because it reflects how we understand disability: not a label, but an access need.
So here’s my challenge:
Next time you see an accessible space, don’t view it as the “best spot. View it as the only entrance some people have.
If you’re a policymaker, talk to people who actually use the striped aisle before rewriting the rules. If you’re a business, add courtesy spaces instead of redefining accessible ones.
If you’re a community member, protect access like participation depends on it, because it does.
We don’t need parking space Hunger Games. We need better design.
Good policy doesn’t move barriers around; it removes them.
Learn our position on these bills and see the facts on why expanding ADA accessible parking to pregnancy without medical criteria takes access away from people who rely on it.
– Kimberly Tissot, President and CEO, Able South Carolina
For nearly 32 years, Able South Carolina has been a critical force for disability rights, belonging, and the right to live on one’s own terms. As a disability-led organization, we don’t just serve our community—we are the disability community. We Are All Able SC!
Now, Able SC faces a genuine crisis. We’re calling on allies, advocates, and community members to generously invest in disability empowerment and justice. Please invest in those most affected and impacted by policy decisions. Visit allable-sc.org today to make a donation.