‘Mad’ transit and bad apples

I don’t drive. I don’t even have a driver’s license. I live in Toronto, a large city of a few million people, and we have a good public transportation system: a network of subways, buses, streetcars, and (lacklustre) paratransit that will take you pretty much wherever you want to go within the city (when things are working well). I use public transit almost daily: transit is more than a means of transportation for me, it’s a means of escape. Transit means I can get away, get some relief from my anxiety by taking a trip somewhere, maybe to a plant shop or ‘eco’ store, or to a park with a big, comfy swing—one of those ‘flying saucer’ types. Somewhere I can go to breathe, to calm down, to try to forget.

Another reason I don’t drive is that I have autism. For me, this means I have difficulty computing all the ‘rules of the road’ and figuring out when to do what … or what to do when. I need time to think and plan and driving doesn’t hold much space for mental processing. Because I can’t just hop in a car and go somewhere (and can’t afford taxis or Ubers), public transportation is fundamental to my independence and to my mental health. Without access to a reliable and extensive transit network I would be quite socially isolated and turn even more inward. I do go for walks when I feel able to—I love the freedom of following my feet—but it’s transit that really lets me explore the city.

Despite my reliance on public transit, I don’t enjoy using it. Ideally, I’d like to encounter transit spaces where I know empathic staff trained in crisis resolution are available if I’m not doing well emotionally. But the city’s transit network doesn’t feel safe to me. I’ve had too many bad experiences and heard too many terrible stories about the transit tribulations of neurodivergent passengers and/or passengers with mental health conditions. Indeed, the many urban transportation problems endured by people with disabilities are troubling, historically persistent, and well documented (Bezyak et al. 2017; Buliung 2023; Galer 2023; Sitter and Mitchell 2020). Scant attention, however, has been given to the public transit experiences of neurodivergent passengers (Kenna 2022).

In my view, the core issue is widespread institutional and interpersonal ableism within transit and policing, creating an unsettling and potentially unsafe experience for people with disabilities. The Accessible Customer Services Policy of my transit agency lacks explicit consideration for neurodivergence and mental health, adopting a minimum compliance approach to disability concerns. At the time of writing, vague ‘commitments’ scattered throughout the policy fall short of service guarantees. Notably, the policy overlooks the decline in mental health globally and in Toronto, exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic (WHO 2022; CMHATO 2023). This oversight is surprising, given the evident connection between deteriorating post-COVID mental health and the increased incidence of random violent attacks on Toronto’s transit system (The Canadian Press 2023).

Here I share a personal story of a problematic interaction on public transit. This story highlights the potentially serious nature of fraught moments on transit for neurodivergent passengers, and exposes what I experienced as an entirely unsatisfactory response within the context of a complaint resolution process.

Express bus chaos

I opt for the express bus to the Canadian National Exhibition (CNE), Canada’s largest fair. I figure it will be quicker and less crowded than the streetcar. There are a few remaining seats, all in the rear of the bus. I choose one and sit. All good. But then, as the bus pulls away from the station, I notice it: a loud noise coming from the rear of the bus, near where I’m seated. My autism makes me very sensitive to noise. I get upset and agitated around noises and sounds I don’t like, but didn’t want to cause trouble by asking to be let off. However, by the time the bus got to Bathurst and Queen, approximately two kilometres from the station, I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed off. I approached the driver and explained my problem:.

There’s a loud noise coming from the back of the bus, and I can’t deal with it. I need to get off the bus.

He stared straight ahead and ignored me, didn’t even acknowledge my existence. I repeated myself and he very slowly turned his head to look at me. At first he just stared at/through me. Then he said, ‘So move to the front’. I told him I couldn’t because the noise wasn’t any less loud there and because there weren’t any seats and I have a hard time standing. He ignored me again (looked away from me and said nothing) causing me to become very agitated because a) I have PTSD and feeling trapped is one of my triggers (I was starting to feel trapped on the bus) and because b) of my autism: my head felt like it was about to explode from the noise.

I restated my request to get off the bus and his response was, ‘Oh, you just changed your mind and want to get off at Queen, that’s all this is about’. I replied: ‘No! I have autism and the noise is too loud for me and is making me feel very anxious so let me off the bus!’.

He begrudgingly and finally opened the doors, but clung to his sarcastic attitude. I ran off the bus but was a mess. I was shaking and covering my ears with my hands and just falling apart. I had to find a quiet place to recover. I was in bad shape for hours. This situation did not have to happen. And, as I detail below, it could have played out quite differently, with an even worse ending for me.

….

This story shows how interactions on public transit involving neurodivergent and/or mentally ill people can rapidly turn serious. What would the passengers’ reactions have been had I behaved differently (I’m not at all a violent person, but if someone had touched me I might have lashed out at them)? How would the contemptible bus driver have reacted? Would he finally have opened the doors, expecting me to leave, crying, screaming, and hyperventilating? How would that have played out in public? Had I felt trapped any longer, my PTSD would have kicked into overdrive, and I would have become a wild animal, fighting for my freedom and my life. I would have bolted, possibly into traffic if I felt this was the only way to get away. I would not have acted rationally. And then what? Had the driver called the police, I might have been violently apprehended, injured, or worse had my behaviour escalated. I didn’t have any sort of weapon on me, but when police are involved, the outcome sometimes turns fatal, as in the case of Edmond Yu in 1997 (Hatfield 2023). Mr. Yu was shot by police on an empty Toronto Transit Commission bus after he raised a steel hammer above his head during questioning (police were called because Mr. Yu had assaulted a woman waiting for a bus). Police learned that Mr. Yu suffered from schizophrenia while interacting with him (Lucas 1999).

Which is why, as I get on a subway, bus, or streetcar, I often wonder: Will I be next? Am I safe here?

I lodged a complaint with my transit commission about the bus driver’s behaviour. Their response to me was quick, but wholly unsatisfactory. This is what they wrote (verbatim, including grammatical errors):.

Rhonda,

This letter is further to your correspondence regarding the performance attributed to one of our Employees on August 19, 2023.

The demeanour’s in which our frontline employees interact with our riders are considered a large portion of the services that we provide. We expect our employees to remain professional and courteous at all times and the behaviour that you described certainly does not meet our standards of good customer service.

As such, I have communicated this report with Senior Management in recommendation that appropriate measures are taken to fully address our concerns with the employee involved.

I would like to thank you for bringing this matter to our attention and for allowing me the opportunity to respond.

I’m left feeling like nothing is going to come (or has come) of my complaint. Like they’re attempting to mollify me with vapid declarations of benevolence. Even if the aforementioned ‘appropriate measures’ are taken, what are these measures? It seems as though this one driver is going to be treated as nothing more than a ‘bad apple’ instead of the transit agency acknowledging a systemic problem of responding ineffectively when mental illness intersects with perceived passenger safety and/or procedural matters. Nor do they indicate that they intend to conduct a thorough, system-wide analysis of their operator performance review protocol.

I want to know how this situation will be handled and to be informed of the outcome. But this isn’t going to happen. There will be no closure. I’m left only with the memory of what happened to me on Saturday, August 19 on a CNE express bus.

Making transit services more accessible and safer for me and other neurodivergent people makes transit services more accessible and safer for all passengers. ‘Madness’ is the oldest and broadest term to denote what we recognize as mental illness today (University of Michigan, n.d.). Mad transit, the transit experiences of neurodivergent people and/or people with mental illness, shouldn’t be viewed as a postscript or addendum to a transit services plan. To create a truly socially equitable transportation system, one where all riders feel safe and valued, we need to be included from the start as a core part of any transit planning endeavours.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).