Turning Frustration Into Fuel: Disability Advocacy in 2025

Portrait of Alice Wong, a disability activist and MacArthur genius, sitting outdoors surrounded by lush green foliage. She is wearing a colorful outfit, and a ventilator tube is visible at her neck. Her expression is calm and contemplative, reflecting her resilience and strength.

The world feels heavy, doesn’t it? Some days it’s hard to shake the thought that everything is unraveling. Advocacy, especially disability advocacy, can feel like shouting into the void. The uphill battle seems steeper than ever, and yet—we press on. Because we must.

Alice Wong, a luminary in disability activism, put it bluntly telling The Guardian: “Yes, life is a complete dumpster fire, but I am reminded that I am not alone.” Her words hit home. Advocacy isn’t a solitary act. It’s a collective one, fueled by the connections we forge and the communities we build. It’s messy. It’s relentless. But it’s also transformative.

Anger? It’s a battery charger. Wong speaks to this beautifully: frustration doesn’t have to drain us—it can energize us. When progress feels stagnant or outright regressive, channeling that fury into action becomes a radical act of hope. Advocacy, after all, isn’t just about surviving the chaos; it’s about rewriting the rules that made survival so hard in the first place.

And yet, advocacy isn’t solely struggle. That’s the trap, isn’t it? To define our lives by hardship alone. Wong challenges this, insisting that the disabled experience is nuanced—full of abundance, love, and joy. “One principle of disability justice,” she reminds us, “is recognizing the inherent value and wholeness of people regardless of their ability to produce.”

Pause for a moment. Let that sink in. A world that values you—not for what you can give, but simply because you exist. It’s a radical notion in a society obsessed with output and efficiency. But that’s the heart of disability justice. It’s about dismantling systems that devalue lives and building frameworks that affirm them.

Of course, it’s not easy. Advocacy is never linear. There are setbacks and moments when the weight feels unbearable. But even then, there’s power in reframing the narrative. Wong’s love of science fiction offers a powerful metaphor: infinite possibilities. Speculative fiction invites us to dream boldly, to imagine futures where inclusion isn’t aspirational—it’s foundational.

So, here we are. 2025. The world may still feel bleak, but our voices—your voice—matter. They ripple outward, shifting conversations, policies, and perceptions. Advocacy isn’t a sprint; it’s a marathon. And while the finish line feels far off, every step matters.

Take your frustration. Take your anger. Take your hope. Turn them into fuel. Together, we’re building something extraordinary: a future where our community doesn’t just survive, but thrives.

MacArthur genius Alice Wong on resistance in the new year: ‘Life is a dumpster fire, but I’m not alone’

Starbucks' Third Place Promise: Where Accessibility Falls Short

As a disability advocate, I've always believed in the power of inclusive design and accessibility. Today, I find myself reflecting on these values, especially as we approach Thanksgiving—a time to be thankful, yet also a time to acknowledge the work that remains in creating truly accessible spaces.

Recently, my experience at a newly renovated local Starbucks brought these issues into sharp focus. Starbucks often promotes its Third Place Policy, emphasizing a welcoming environment for all. While the staff's helpfulness and welcoming nature are commendable, the reality of navigating an inaccessible space independently tells a different story.

The renovation, which I had hoped would improve accessibility, resulted in narrower pathways, fewer seating options for those with disabilities, and a lack of automatic door buttons. This isn't just about convenience; it's about the fundamental right to access public spaces independently.

This experience isn't isolated. It reflects a broader issue highlighted in a Toronto Star article, where a new bike lane was criticized for its inaccessibility, raising questions about who designs and approves such projects. Similarly, Mark Raymond, Jr. CEO of the Split Second Foundation, emphasizes in FacilitiesNet/NFMT that the ADA was a "touchdown," but the game is far from over. He stresses the importance of going beyond ADA compliance to truly understanding the disabled experience.

As we near Thanksgiving, I am reminded that while we should be thankful for those who champion accessibility, gratitude should not be the endpoint. Acknowledging our rights to accessible spaces is one thing; actively ensuring these spaces are truly accessible is another.

Organizations, especially those like Starbucks that pride themselves on being a 'Third Place,' must realize that an environment cannot be welcoming if it cannot be independently navigated by all. This Thanksgiving, let's be thankful for progress made, but also commit to advocating for the changes still needed.

As we continue our journey towards a more inclusive world, let's remember that accessibility is not a privilege; it's a right. It's time for all organizations to listen, learn, and act.

‘Who designed this, who approved this?’ New Eglinton bike lane ‘illegal’, says lawyer and disability activist

Our Stories, Our Images: The Quest for Authentic Disability Representation

The CPSC commissioned new stock photos showing Americans with disabilities using a variety of home safety devices, including portable generators.

As a disabled person, I’m often searching for my reflection in brand messaging. Companies like SKIMS, Gap, Mattel, Inc. and Apple have set benchmarks. Now, the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission joins this move toward inclusivity—a cue for all brands to follow.

As The American Association of People with Disabilities President and CEO Maria Town told NPR, the move “brings us closer to embracing that disabled people are everywhere."

"There was a real sense of helping right a wrong and delivering something important for a community that's too often left out of many important conversations." added CPSC Social Media Specialist Joseph Galbo.

And we are.

In our visual-centric world, images mold our perceptions and beliefs. With AI-generated photography, we can portray even more diversity. However, we must avoid compromising authenticity, especially when representing diverse groups, including disabled people. Authentic representation also leads to brand connection and creates job opportunities for disabled models.

Tokenism isn’t the answer. It's not about sporadically featuring a disabled person but about consistently recognizing our existence and contributions. Our lives are a tapestry of unique experiences deserving visibility.

Brands, when you incorporate authentic representation, you're not merely acknowledging us—you're validating us. You're sending a strong message—we matter, we’re a part of society, and our experiences and perspectives are valuable.

This inclusivity encourages other businesses to follow suit. It might inspire a young disabled individual to dream bigger and see limitless possibilities. It could spark conversations about accessibility and inclusivity, nudging society toward equal representation.

So, let's challenge the status quo. Brands, mirror CPSC’s initiative. Show us in your advertisements, not as charity, but as an acknowledgement of our existence and value. Use AI responsibly to assist and amplify authentic representation, not to replace it.

Ultimately, we don’t want special treatment; we want equal treatment. We crave representation that mirrors our diverse experiences authentically. We are more than a checkbox on the diversity and inclusion agenda—we are threads in the intricate fabric of humanity, and it's time our representation reflected that.

It's not just about seeing disabled people in advertising. It's about seeing us as we are. This is our call to action for brands everywhere. Are you listening?

People with disabilities aren't often seen in stock photos. The CPSC is changing that