Consider the Pop Socket
How my favorite fine motor mobility aid gives me access to the world
I was an early adopter of the PopSocket, the silver-dollar sized gadget that adheres with surprising strength to the back of increasingly large and unwieldy mobile phones. Before becoming disabled, I was a high school English teacher, and several of my students with PopSockets raved about the technology. “Try it Ms. H! It’s sooo much easier to hold your phone. And inexpensive!” As with most social and technology issues of the day, my Gen-Z students were right. None of us knew then that I would “retire” from teaching just a few years later at only 35 years old. When I ended up hospitalized from a paralyzing Multiple Sclerosis flare that would leave permanent impairments on my entire left side, my occupational therapist (OT) suggested I get a pop socket. Sitting upright in my hospital bed, I proudly held up my phone with my right hand to show her I was way ahead of her!
Mobility aids and accessibility tools are essential for people like me who have fine motor (hands, fingers) and gross motor (legs, feet, walking) disabilities. The PopSocket is a fine motor mobility aid (or accessibility device) in that it supports the mobility of my hands. If the left hand is paralyzed, or like today, prone to painful muscle spasms, then I encounter a barrier to accessing my phone when trying to hold it upright, and type, and take pictures with only hand. With the support of a PopSocket, my right hand can perform all the tasks necessary in order for me to access all the same features that a person without an impairment can access. This access was critical for my mental health during my month-long hospital stay. I was able to keep in close contact with my friends, family, and especially my two young children. I sought and found support from online communities dedicated to Multiple Sclerosis. I connected to resources; I like to think I helped get Massachusetts Senator Ed Markey re-elected as @moms4markey. I began to share my story.
During the course of a single week I might use a wide array of devices and supports, and often these devices have more than one use. Alongside the pop-socket, the speech to text dictation feature of devices like phones is critical for my writing (I’m using it right now!). I’ve got my beloved sticker-covered cane that I use to showcase various causes that I care about. Most people think I’m using a cane because I can’t walk without it, but that’s not the case. Whenever I go on walks on my own, on quiet side streets, I leave the cane at home. However, I need the support when I’m out in public. I can become easily disoriented or dizzy from the stimulation of crowds, which means that my brain must use more energy to do “automatic” tasks like walking, and I can trip. My cane serves as a signpost to everyone around me that I am a potential fall risk - which I am! Mobility devices have more functions than we realize; the cane also provides something to lean on when there are no seats; plus it’s extremely satisfying to poke an elevator button with a cane.
Another misconception happens when I use my rollator, or walker. Even though mine is very cool, bright red, and says nitro with a lighting bolt ⚡️on the side, people occasionally seem sorry that I’m using it. I am absolutely pumped to be using it - again I don’t need this for walking per se, but I need the portable seat that it provides when I’m traveling through large spaces or long distances, and I can’t be assured of a bench. During the early period of the ongoing Covid pandemic, many retail establishments removed the chairs and benches (usually placed near the registers) that allowed for a rest. As a person who becomes fatigued by the overwhelming sensory experience of shopping in a supermarket or big box store (the dinging of the registers, the lighting, the vast ceilings, the many decisions to make), I need to sit after shopping with a friend or family member. In the early days after my MS flare, the lack of benches was a barrier that prevented me from accessing these establishments.
Nobody looks away awkwardly when I use my PopSocket in public. The PopSocket started from the ground up, through a Kickstarter from Philosophy Professor John Barnett - it was intended to help with the problem of tangled headphones. Users recognized that PopSockets also helped them use their increasingly large mobile devices (no longer called phones due to the wide array of uses) with one hand. While ease of use is a useful feature for not currently disabled users, it is essential for those of us with fine motor disabilities. Usually, when mobility aids are widely used by the not currently disabled public, they stop becoming specialized tools and universally accepted as worthwhile purchases. The PopSocket’s universal popularity among not currently disabled users worked backwards in a sense. Its huge popularity ensured that the price remained low, eliminating another potential barrier to access; cost. All of my mobility tools give me access to something I would not be able to access without them; to me, the PopSocket means access to the world.
Erin Ryan Heyneman is a disabled educator, creator, and speaker. She is also a Commissioner on her city’s Commission on Disability. Find the rest of her work here.