Disability Accommodations at Work: Why Employees Fear Speaking Up

A diverse group of professionals, including wheelchair users and employees with headphones, collaborate in a modern office, promoting workplace inclusion and accessibility.

Who gets to be "disabled enough"?

That’s the uncomfortable debate unfolding in workplaces across the country—and one I recently discussed in The Wall Street Journal alongside Justina Plowden and Keely Cat-Wells.

As more employees request accommodations, some worry we’re stretching the definition of disability too far. But here’s the real question: Are we diluting the meaning of disability, or are we finally acknowledging the full spectrum of barriers people face?

Here’s where I stand: Pitting disabilities against each other is dangerous. It’s not up to me, an employer, or anyone else to decide whose disability is “valid enough” to deserve support. If someone says they need an accommodation, believe them. Full stop.

And yet, many disabled employees don’t feel safe disclosing their disability at all. Why? Because they know what happens next:

🚫 They’re seen as less competent.
🚫 They’re overlooked for promotions.
🚫 They’re often the first to go in layoffs.

This is why so many people don’t ask for accommodations, even when they’re legally entitled to them. It’s not simply that remote work itself makes disabled employees more vulnerable—it’s that stigma and workplace bias make disclosing a disability a risk.

I appreciate WSJ and Callum Borchers for giving space to this conversation, and I hope it pushes more employers to rethink how they support disabled workers—both those who disclose and those who don’t.

Disabled Workers Debate Who Is Really One of Us

Federal Workforce Cuts Are Coming—And Disabled Employees Are the First to Go

Elon Musk, with his son X Æ A-Xii, speaks with President Donald Trump and reporters in the Oval Office at the White House on Tuesday.

When the now infamous “buyout” offer hit my inbox a few weeks ago, I was dumbfounded. Just type, ‘resign’ in the body of the e-mail and we’ll pay you through September. It’s that easy!

I’ve seen Nigerian princes put more energy into their scams.

Federal employees like me—many of whom are disabled—are being left in limbo as the latest executive orders attempt to gut the federal workforce under the guise of “efficiency.” The latest round of chaos?

👉 A deferred resignation program designed to “persuade” employees to quit, which a judge has already paused due to legal challenges.
👉 A hiring freeze that mandates one new hire for every four who leave—essentially ensuring agencies shrink rapidly, with no plan to sustain essential functions.
👉 Agencies signaling they may reevaluate reasonable accommodations, adding yet another layer of red tape for disabled employees who already face enough hurdles.

These executive orders aren’t about “efficiency.” They are designed to break the civil service. And disabled employees—who rely on accommodations to do their jobs—are among the most vulnerable.

A judge temporarily paused the deferred resignation program after unions representing 800,000 civil servants called it an “arbitrary, unlawful, short-fused ultimatum,” according to The Washington Post. Yet OPM is still pushing it, with the White House calling it a “very generous, once-in-a-lifetime offer.”

This administration has already been slapped down in court multiple times for executive overreach. Trump’s orders gutting birthright citizenship, freezing federal grants, and mass-firing USAID employees have all been blocked. That doesn’t stop them from trying.

When agencies need to cut positions fast, who gets targeted first? The
answer isn’t theoretical—it’s happening now:

✅ Federal workers with disabilities already face disproportionate scrutiny. Any reevaluation of accommodations means we’ll have to fight harder just to keep the support we already have.
✅ Layoffs disproportionately harm disabled employees who may have fewer opportunities to find comparable private-sector jobs with the same level of accessibility.
✅ The rhetoric doesn’t match reality. They claim this is about “efficiency,” but efficiency doesn’t look like forcing out experienced professionals while agencies struggle with understaffing.

As one EEOC lawyer put it:

“OPM’s breezily condescending emails don’t mention federal ethics laws at all. They’re either intentionally lying to us or didn’t bother to do basic research. Either way, they can’t be trusted.”

I have been a federal employee, a disability advocate, and a firsthand witness to the barriers disabled people face in the workplace. If these executive orders move forward unchallenged, we will see an exodus of talented, dedicated disabled professionals—pushed out not because we can’t do the job, but because bureaucracy is being weaponized against us.

Trump executive order vows substantial cuts to federal workforce

DEI is Under Attack—But Inclusion Can’t Be Optional

A modern office features an illuminated sign reading "Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion: Strength in Unity" with a colorful gradient background. In the background, a diverse group of employees collaborates around a conference table in a well-lit space with large windows.

Every day, I watch as the policies meant to ensure my dignity, my inclusion, and frankly, my survival, get dismantled. It’s not hypothetical. It’s not a distant issue. It’s personal.

Like many disabled professionals, I see the writing on the wall—diversity, equity, and inclusion are under attack in ways that go beyond policy changes. These aren’t just bureaucratic shifts; they send a chilling message about whose existence is valued and whose is not. And for so many of us, that message is hitting hard.

But here’s what I also know: not everyone is backing down. Not every company, every leader, every organization is willing to let progress be erased. Some including Apple, Microsoft, Delta Air Lines, Johnson & Johnson , and JPMorganChase are doubling down, choosing to be louder, more intentional, more committed to inclusion than ever before. And if you’re one of those people—if you believe that workplaces should be places of opportunity for everyone, not just the most privileged—then now is the time to act.

I’ve spent my career navigating the intersections of disability, policy, and workplace equity. I don’t just speak about inclusion—I live it. And I know firsthand what it takes to create workplaces where disabled professionals don’t just survive but thrive.

If your company, conference, or organization is still committed to real DEI—not just as a buzzword, but as a practice—I want to talk. Hire disabled speakers. Bring in disabled consultants. Invest in perspectives that aren’t just theoretical but lived. Because right now, at a time when so many of us feel like our voices are being pushed aside, inclusion can’t just be a quiet value. It has to be a loud, unwavering action.

Linkedin Rewind: 2024 A Year In Review

Here's my 2024 LinkedIn Rewind, by Coauthor.studio and Hunch:

2024 was the year disability employment hit its highest rate since tracking began - 22.5% - but for me, it was also the year I said goodbye to my greatest advocacy partner, Pico.

This year reminded me that advocacy isn't just about statistics. It's about the relationships that drive change, the partnerships that challenge systems, and the deeply personal journeys that transform workplaces.

At the U.S. Department of Labor, I've watched our work translate into tangible progress. But some of the most profound changes happen in moments you can't measure - like how Pico transformed how I moved through the world and how I advocate.

Key achievements that defined my year:

Professional Impact:
• Advanced accessibility policies within federal workforce
• Published influential pieces challenging AI hiring practices
• Continued driving systemic changes in workplace inclusion

Personal Growth:
• Navigated Pico's retirement and subsequent passing
• Continued as Brand Ambassador for Canine Companions® for Independence
• Maintained advocacy momentum through personal transitions

Three posts that resonated most with our community:

1. "A Goodbye to Pico"
Reflecting on how a service dog is more than a companion - they're a partner in advocacy.
"He made me a better human, a better advocate, and someone who could navigate the challenges of the world with confidence."
https://bit.ly/4a1msBj

2. "Biden's Impact on Disability Employment"
Highlighting concrete policy changes driving real improvements.
"The employment-population ratio for people with disabilities hit 22.5% - the highest since the Bureau of Labor Statistics started tracking this data in 2008."
https://bit.ly/3ZXCOqj

3. "The Shifting Landscape of Disability Employment"
Exploring how remote work transforms employment opportunities for disabled professionals.
https://bit.ly/3ZUI6CR

Looking ahead to 2025: My focus remains bridging policy and practice, particularly in emerging areas like AI hiring and remote work policies that directly impact the disability community.

To Pico, my colleagues, and the entire disability advocacy community: Our work continues. Our impact grows. And we're just getting started.

Piecing It Together: A Story of Self-Discovery and Disability Awareness

A festive indoor celebration scene for the 34th anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act. The centerpiece is a large two-tiered cake decorated with the Disability Parking Symbol in blue. The top of the cake features lit candles and large number "34" candles. The cake is inscribed with the message "Happy 34th Anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act." The background is adorned with colorful balloons and streamers, creating a joyful and vibrant party atmosphere.

As we celebrate the 34th anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act, I want to share a story close to my heart. It's about my best friend, who, in her early thirties, has only recently come to realize she's been disabled for much of her life. Her journey of self-discovery is a testament to the complex and unique paths we each take to understand our own disabilities.

Growing up, she was that quirky, clumsy teenager who fell down all the time. Friends joked that someone needed to be nearby to catch her, and frequent ER visits were chalked up to her being "accident prone." High heels? A fashion no-go because of her wobbly ankles. Gym class? A nightmare, especially when a heart condition—misdiagnosed for years—made sustained exercise impossible.

Her life was a series of "quirks" that never quite added up. Hypermobile joints, ADHD symptoms, and a heart that often felt like it was drowning were all dismissed as part of her "unique charm." It wasn't until her mid-twenties that the pieces started falling into place with proper diagnoses: hypermobility, inappropriate sinus tachycardia, and an ongoing assessment for ADHD.

Reflecting on her journey, she realized how internalized ableism and a lack of confidence about what "counts" as a disability had prevented her from embracing her disabled identity. She had tried to fit into the mold of the manic pixie dream girl, cultivating her issues as endearing quirks rather than recognizing them as signs of her disabilities.

Dating, too, was fraught with challenges. She constantly worried about keeping up with potential partners who enjoyed activities like hiking and running—activities her body couldn't always handle. This anxiety stemmed from societal perceptions of disability hierarchies and the pressure to be "normal."

Her story is a powerful reminder that disability journeys can begin at any time and are often unexpected. Understanding disability through formal or informal diagnosis provides a unique lens and vocabulary to better understand oneself. It's a journey of discovery, relief, and pride.

On this anniversary of the ADA, let's celebrate not only those who fought for our rights but also those just beginning to understand and embrace their disabilities. Their stories are vital in the ongoing fight for diversity, equity, inclusion, and access.

The Crip Tax: Unveiling the Hidden Costs of Disability

A close-up image of a person in a white shirt holding a fan of hundred-dollar bills in their hand. The focus is on the money, showing several crisp banknotes prominently featuring Benjamin Franklin. The background is blurred, drawing attention to the hand and the cash.

Today, I want to talk about what is colloquially known in our community as the "Crip Tax." This term encompasses the increased cost of living that accompanies being disabled. Whether it’s accessible housing, home modifications, therapies, treatments, medications, or elevated electric bills to maintain medical equipment—these costs are substantial.

Selma Blair shared her struggles with the financial strain of managing her multiple sclerosis with the The Hollywood Reporter: "People perceive you as rich and famous but there were many years I’d have to take off work that deeply impacted [me]. If I don’t [get] my SAG-AFTRA insurance, then I don’t get my blood products." This sentiment resonates deeply with many of us who face similar financial burdens.

Accessible housing is often limited to more expensive areas, and making one's home accessible through modifications can be financially draining. The cost of mobility aids, which are often not covered by insurance, further strains our finances. But the Crip Tax extends beyond monetary costs. The psychological impact of being perceived as exploiting our disability for preferential treatment, when all we seek is basic equity, is profound. We face conscious and unconscious biases that affect our dating lives, career progression, and personal relationships.

In the workplace, requesting necessary accommodations can be a delicate balance. The fear of being perceived as a burden looms large. If we ascend to positions of leadership and conquer these prejudices, we are often met with accusations of tokenism and claims that we are less qualified and less deserving. On the other hand, asking for too many accommodations can lead employers to assume we will underperform. Add to that the often bureaucratic and adversarial nature of making such requests, and many of us simply won’t, effectively making our jobs harder and feeding into the false narrative of our capabilities.

Additionally, the medical field often discounts our experiences. If ailments aren’t found on routine tests, they are frequently deemed imaginary. This constant need to defend our reality is exhausting. 

Socially, the unpredictability of our health means we sometimes have to decline invitations, leading to perceptions of flakiness. Chronic pain and fatigue turn every decision into a game-time choice, based on our body's state that day. The Crip Tax also includes spending time defending yourself to people who don't believe you, expending extra energy from our already limited supply, defending our right to exist.

This tax is a lifetime of financial, psychological, and emotional burdens that seem only to increase.

What did I leave out? Sound off in the comments. Additionally, share your thoughts with NPR for an upcoming feature story.

Selma Blair on Getting “Back on Track” With MS Treatment: People Don’t “Get How Expensive It Is to Be Disabled”

Why Removing Equity from DEI Is a Step Back for Disability Inclusion

Two hands, one from the top left and the other from the bottom right, grasp a large, yellow letter 'E' against a grey background, symbolizing the tug-of-war over the concept of equity in DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) initiatives. Credit: Annelise Capossela/Axios

Recently, I've been reflecting on the troubling trend of companies removing 'equity' from their DEI initiatives, a move now endorsed by the SHRM. This shift is particularly harmful to the disability community.

Equity ensures that everyone has what they need to succeed. For disabled employees, this might mean accessible workplaces, assistive technology, or flexible work arrangements. SHRM's decision to drop 'equity' from its strategy undermines these critical supports. The Wall Street Journal's Ray Smith reports the organization is "moving away from equity language to ensure no group of workers appears to get preferential treatment." However, this perspective ignores the unique barriers faced by the disability community and other marginalized groups.

Removing equity from DEI efforts sends a concerning message: that the specific needs of marginalized groups are less important. This is not just a theoretical issue; it's a tangible setback. A recent piece by Bloomberg's Khorri A. Atkinson explored the impact on colleges and universities that have already begun eliminating hundreds of DEI-related jobs, impacting support for historically marginalized students. In the workplace, this trend could mean fewer accommodations and less understanding of the unique challenges faced by disabled employees.

Moving through the world with various disabilities, I’ve experienced firsthand the difference that equitable policies make. Equity isn't about giving some people an unfair advantage; it's about leveling the playing field. Without it, disabled employees like myself are left at a significant disadvantage.

We need to recognize that inclusion without equity is incomplete. Equity should be uncontroversial. It just means equality of opportunity. “Who are the people that find 'equity' confusing?" Deb Muller, the CEO of HR Acuity, told Axios’s Emily Peck. This is why the removal of 'equity' is so alarming—it risks undoing years of progress and harms those who rely on these measures the most.

I urge my fellow advocates and allies to speak out against this shift. It's crucial that we maintain a holistic approach to DEI that includes equity. We need to push for policies that recognize and address the diverse needs of all employees.

What are your thoughts on SHRM's decision to drop 'equity' from their DEI strategy? How do you think this will impact the disability community and other marginalized groups?

When DEI gets downgraded to I&D