Disability Unfiltered: As a Disabled Accessibility Specialist, Sometimes I Still Don't Feel Seen

Welcome to my series, Disability Unfiltered, where I’ll be highlighting other disabled voices on Substack.

My goal for this series is to publish guest posts from others with disabilities to build community, raise awareness about what it’s truly like to live with various disabilities, and increase authentic disability representation across Substack.

I hope you’ll join me in highlighting the love, loss, pain, fear, beauty, strength, and perseverance of the disabled experience.

Today, on the last day of Disability Pride Month, I’m sharing my experience. On the surface, this article may not feel like disability pride. However, this is proof that I am done hiding. I’m done making myself smaller. I’m here to stay. And a recent work trip solidified that belief for me.

Recently, I came home from a four day work trip, and to say I’m physically and emotionally spent is an understatement. I work from home, and I have since I joined my current company almost 4 years ago.

Like many people, I didn’t start working remotely until the pandemic hit. Once I made the shift though, it was incredibly evident that going into the office every day was putting far more physical and emotional strain on my body and mind than I realized. From then on, I decided I’d never work in an office again.

Working remotely is essential for many disabled people. Without remote work, many of us would not be able to work at all. In my case, remote work allows me to structure my day how I want and work from the couch if I’m having a particularly bad pain day. It also affords me opportunities to rest if I feel a migraine coming on or need to take 20 minutes to lay down since prolonged sitting hurts just as much as 3 minutes on my feet.

However, it also means not having the opportunity to interact with coworkers in person. Even though I’m introverted, I value in person connections. They are often a chance for me to be more authentically myself instead of feeling like I’m just a face on a screen. In person, people see the full me. Not merely a head on Microsoft Teams (with purple hair and kickass facial piercings), but a person with a full life, a family, hobbies, and interests.

But do you know what else working in person forces people to see? My wheelchair or my walker. It’s not merely a device. It’s how I move through the world. It’s how I access goods and services independently, and in person, it’s not as easy for able-bodied people to turn a blind eye and pretend my mobility device isn’t there.

During my recent work trip, I knew I’d encounter inaccessibility. It happens everywhere I go without fail. This time, though, other people noticed too.

Back in February, I joined a new team at my current company when everyone from my previous team was let go. It was a shock and an adjustment, but I quickly realized that the new team was exactly where I belonged.

My most recent work trip was the first time I met my new team members in person, and it was great. What wasn’t great was feeling like I was met with inaccessibility at every turn.

Being in the office and even getting to the office necessitated assistance. Not because I require that anyway, but because the only automatic door opener I came across was the one to take you from outside into the building. Once inside the building, there wasn’t a single automatic door opener to be found. And this time, it wasn’t just me who noticed. My whole team did.

It’s not uncommon to not see automatic door openers inside buildings, especially if you’re referring to a building not frequented by the public. According to the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), automatic door openers are not a requirement by law, and as a disabled accessibility specialist, that still surprises me.

What I haven’t mentioned is the building I entered was the headquarters of my company, and you’d think that would result in some forethought regarding accessibility.

Unfortunately, you’d be wrong.

Throughout my work trip, I required assistance. If I wanted to tour the building, a coworker had to accompany me. If I wanted to get food, I usually had to stay put while someone else got me lunch or a snack. If I wanted to simply use the restroom, I required an escort.

My coworkers were amazing and didn’t bat an eye when I asked for help.

But internally, I was seething.

Moving independently through the world, especially when you’ve already obtained the necessary tools to do so, is not a luxury. It’s a basic human right.

Unfortunately, the idea that accessibility is a basic human right and legitimately benefits every single person is not a commonly held belief, no matter how much I wish it was.

However, it was reassuring to have my team members assure me they were taking notes and planning to send the feedback to the facilities department.

Whether anything is actually done about the inaccessibility is a totally different story. However, if you can’t accommodate your disabled employee who works for your company as an accessibility specialist, what’s even the fucking point?