Every summer, Lanzarote fills with lights, music, attractions, and promises. The fairs travel across the island as a symbol of tradition, joy, and community. But there is something that many prefer not to see: not everyone can enjoy these festivities on equal terms.
The word "inclusion" is repeated in speeches, posters, and social media. But when the time comes, that inclusion remains mere facade. The fairs continue to be inaccessible.
Poorly placed or completely nonexistent ramps, attractions that do not consider functional diversity, restrooms impossible for some people to use, and families that cannot even approach calmly because there are no adapted spaces or quiet environments.
And then there’s the usual: the famous "inclusive hours." Sounds good, right? But in practice, it’s another way to exclude. Those hours are often set at absurd times: at three or four in the afternoon, under a scorching sun, or at times when many families are working or resting. Do they really think that’s integration? No. That’s segregation. It’s organizing the fair for a few and reserving an uncomfortable spot for the others.
Last year, the photo turned out beautiful. Several public representatives posed smiling alongside people needing additional support, in that small "adapted" moment. The perfect image for the press and social media. But what didn’t come out in that photo is that those people couldn’t return to the fair at any other time. They couldn’t share the space with their friends, with their family, nor enjoy on equal terms.
Because what is sold as inclusion is not. It is disguised segregation.
This is not about symbolic gestures, nor about fulfilling obligations.
It’s about rights.
About dignity.
About thinking of all the people who are part of this island.
It’s about listening to those of us who have been talking, proposing, and pointing out barriers for years.
Lanzarote is a welcoming, diverse, vibrant island. But as long as a part of its people continues to be ignored, the party will not be for everyone. And what is not for everyone is not fair.
And this year? What will we find?
Another pat on the back and a fake schedule?
Another pretty photo while leaving out those who most need to be included?
Or will someone finally think of everyone, and stop using the word inclusion as an empty ornament?
Because true inclusion is not announced.
It is built.
And if there’s a party, let it be for all people.
Without exception.
And no, this is not a late complaint. I am not crying over spilled milk.
We are putting the bandage on before it bleeds.
Because after years of experiencing neglect, disorganization, and poor practices regarding diversity, it is no longer enough to lament when everything fails. This warning is an opportunity. A timely call to do things right. So that, for once, we don’t have to recount what went wrong, but celebrate what, at last, was done with meaning and justice.
Saula Rodríguez