“We All Have Something” Is a Lie That Harms Disabled People—Here’s Why

Quote graphic with a photo of Ryan Honick and the text:
“Disability isn’t a metaphor. It’s not a personality type. And it’s definitely not something you can pray, push, or positivity your way out of.”

I’ll be honest: I’m tired. Not just physically—existentially. Because every time I talk about disability, someone inevitably says:

“Well, everyone has something, right?”

Everyone’s a little neurodivergent.

A little ADHD.

A little OCD.

We all have trauma.

We’re all on the spectrum.

Except… no.

We’re not.

And saying we are? It’s not inclusive. It’s dismissive.

You don’t have to flatten the disability experience to feel connected to it. And yet, this "everyone has something" mindset keeps popping up in classrooms, in DEI trainings, and on conference panels—as if lived experience is just a vibe we all sort of share.

Here’s the thing: “Relating” to something isn’t the same as living with it.

It’s one thing to feel distracted. It’s another to navigate the world with ADHD while constantly masking to meet neurotypical expectations.

It’s one thing to like your desk organized. It’s another to live with OCD and be consumed by intrusive thoughts that disrupt your entire day.

It’s one thing to be upset. It’s another to be triggered—and suddenly transported into a trauma state that can take hours or days to come down from.

When we use clinical terms casually—or treat disability like a shared inconvenience—we erase the people actually living it, day in and day out.

Disability isn’t a metaphor.

It’s not a personality type.

And it’s definitely not something you can pray, push, or positivity your way out of.

And yet, society loves a good overcome story. It makes people feel comfortable. But comfort has never been the goal of disability justice. Equity is. Access is. Dignity is.

We’re not here for inspiration. We’re here for infrastructure.

Disability is real. It’s physical. It’s mental. It’s emotional. It’s systemic.

And while yes, it’s common—1 in 4 people in the U.S. have a disability—that doesn’t make it universal. And it sure as hell doesn’t make it insignificant.

So please. For the love of accuracy and advocacy:

Stop saying “everyone has something.”

Say:
✅ I’m listening.
✅ I want to understand.
✅ I’ll advocate for accessibility.

Because that? That’s how we move forward.

The Non-Sports Fan’s Survival Guide to Super Bowl LIX (Yes, You Can Fake It)

A photograph of a rugged, slightly worn "Survival Guide" handbook sitting on a living room coffee table cluttered with snacks, a remote control, and a half-empty soda can. The title "Survival Guide" is embossed in bold, comic-style block letters on the cover, with a distressed yet humorous aesthetic. The background features a blurred TV screen showing a football game.

It’s that time again—when nacho consumption soars, brands spend millions to make us cry over a talking golden retriever, and for one night, everyone suddenly becomes an expert on “momentum shifts.”

But what if you, dear reader, couldn’t care less about National Football League (NFL) Super Bowl LIX? What if you'd rather be anywhere else but trapped in a four-hour football marathon?

Good news! My annual guide will help you fake it, escape it, or—dare we say—actually enjoy it (without suddenly developing “strong opinions” about pass interference).

Step 1: Know Just Enough to Survive

The Game: Kansas City Chiefs vs. Philadelphia Eagles. Yes, again. Just say, “This rematch really adds an extra layer of narrative intrigue.” People will nod.

The Halftime Show: Kendrick Lamar featuring SZA. Expect one spectacular performance and at least one person loudly declaring that nothing will ever top Prince in the rain.

The Commercials: The only time people shush each other to watch an ad for Doritos chips. Be on the lookout for confirmed spots from Kawasaki Motors Corp., U.S.A., Starbucks, Best Buy, Dove, GoDaddy, and of course, hims & hers.

Step 2: Your Three Foolproof Phrases

These timeless lines work every single year:

1️⃣ “I just hope it’s a good game.” (Safe, neutral, cannot fail.)
2️⃣ “That’s a bold call. Let’s see if it pays off.” (Say this during any big play, and you’ll sound like an analyst.)
3️⃣ “I’m really just here for the commercials.” (Truth.)

Step 3: Accessibility = Super Bowl MVP

Want to sound insightful and support inclusivity? Drop these into conversation:

“Glad they have ASL interpreters again this year!”

Super Bowl LIX will feature ASL performers for the anthem & halftime show. Shoutout to Matthew Maxey for making the music accessible!

“More events should have live descriptive audio.”

The game has real-time play-by-play for blind & low-vision viewers.

“Can we turn on captions?”

Accessibility helps everyone, especially during loud parties (or when your uncle won’t stop explaining the rules).

Step 4: Your Escape Plan

If the game drags on, try these classic moves:

The Kitchen Gambit: “I’ll check on the snacks.” (Never return.) Anheuser-Busch, Totino's, Häagen-Dazs Shops, Uber, Instacart, PepsiCo, and DoorDash all paid a fortune to influence you. Did it work?

The Bathroom Break of Unusual Length: No one will question 20+ mins of doomscrolling.

The Pet Excuse: “The dog looks anxious. I should sit with them.” (Even if they are sound asleep.)

Final Thoughts: Just Ride It Out

Look, the Super Bowl isn’t just a game—it’s a national event, an excuse for excessive dip consumption, and a night where even the most football-averse people must endure sports commentary.

But with these survival tips, you’ll make it through Super Bowl LIX unscathed.

Now, repeat after me:

“I just hope it’s a good game.”

Uber’s Service Dog Policy Update: Progress or Just PR?

Uber logo displayed on a modern, abstract background featuring curved shapes in black, blue, and mint green.

I’ve spent a lifetime advocating for disability rights, fighting for equity, and pushing companies to make accessibility a reality—I’ve seen firsthand how corporations talk a big game about inclusion but fail in practice. That’s why Uber’s recent policy update on service dogs caught my attention.

Uber has always been required by law to allow service dogs, yet enforcement has been inconsistent at best. While matched with Canine Companions® Pico, I documented hundreds of refusals on Twitter/X, confronted drivers, filed complaints—and all too often, the most Uber would do was ensure I wasn’t matched with that driver again. Consequences were minimal, and riders like me bore the burden of proving discrimination over and over again.

Now, Uber is rolling out a feature that allows riders to self-identify as service dog handlers. If a driver cancels after being notified, they receive a warning reminding them that refusal is illegal. “Any driver who violates this policy may permanently lose access to the platform,” says Uber’s Chris Yoon, as quoted in The Verge. That sounds good, right? Except I’ve been here before. The key word is 'may'. Will drivers actually be held accountable, or will this be another slap on the wrist?

Uber’s history gives me reason to doubt. The system still leaves room for discrimination. Drivers can cancel rides under false pretenses—claiming they couldn’t find the rider, going offline, or making other excuses to avoid accountability. I and many others have seen this playbook. Meanwhile, service dog handlers are forced to navigate awkward confrontations and potential ride denials just to get from Point A to Point B. It get's exhausting. No handler should be forced to leave their medical equipment at home to make it on time to their destination.

This new feature seems helpful, but it places even more responsibility on disabled riders to preemptively disclose our status, creating a record of our attempts to comply. But why should it be on us to reduce the risk of discrimination? Why aren’t drivers trained, vetted, and monitored more closely to prevent these issues in the first place?

To be clear, I want to believe this marks a real shift. Uber claims this feature was developed “in collaboration with leading advocacy organizations and service dog handlers.” Organizations including National Federation of the Blind, The Seeing Eye, and American Council of the Blind. That’s a step in the right direction. But my optimism is cautious. Until we see consistent enforcement—until drivers who break the law actually face removal—this is just another policy on paper, not a lived reality.

So I ask: What would true accountability look like to you? Have you faced service dog refusals in rideshare services? What changes would make a real impact?

Uber wants to make riding with a service animal easier

The Forgotten in the Flames: Why Emergency Planning Must Include Disabled People

A scene of intense wildfires, with palm trees and vegetation engulfed in flames, embers scattering through the air, and a vibrant orange hue dominating the environment.

Reading the recent story from Sonja Sharp at Los Angeles Times about Anthony Mitchell Sr. and his son Justin—a father and son who both had disabilities and died because of inadequate evacuation planning during the devastating LA wildfires—has left me angry and heartbroken. Their deaths were preventable, and yet they were left to wait, pray, and perish. This tragic event reflects systemic failures that disabled people, like me, fear every day.

I can’t ignore how often disabled people are overlooked in emergency planning.

Growing up, I was never truly part of evacuation plans. After 9/11, I remember my math teacher pointing to a football player and saying, “Ryan, that’s your escape plan.” That moment encapsulated the lack of planning, forethought, and value placed on the lives of disabled individuals. Now, as an adult living in a 25-story high-rise in D.C., those fears haven’t gone away. During fire drills or alarms, the elevator shuts down, the hallway doors automatically lock, and I’m left wondering: “Will anyone come?” I’m on supposed watch lists, but those plans are never practiced. The truth is, I don’t have faith that help will come when it matters most.

Anthony Mitchell Sr., an amputee who used a wheelchair, and Justin Mitchell, who had cerebral palsy, couldn’t escape on their own. Firefighters stopped family members from entering the evacuation zone to save them. As the flames closed in, they huddled together, waiting for a rescue that never came.

Officials have known for years that disabled individuals are disproportionately impacted by disasters. A 2019 state audit highlighted how emergency management agencies were woefully unprepared for this threat, despite California being home to 4 million disabled residents, including nearly a quarter-million in Los Angeles​

We can and must do better. Emergency response plans need to be inclusive, regularly practiced, and accessible to everyone. This means involving disabled individuals in planning processes, investing in assistive technology, and ensuring first responders are trained to address the needs of disabled people during disasters.

We’re one-fourth of the global population. Our lives are just as valuable, and our voices need to be heard. Let’s stop apologizing after the fact and start making proactive changes now. The cost of inaction is far too great.

Accessibility at Disney: A Conversation We Need to Have

Cinderella Castle at Walt Disney World in Florida, a majestic and iconic fairytale castle with blue rooftops, golden spires, and pink and gray walls. The setting includes a clear sky and a few decorations in the foreground, emphasizing the grandeur and magical atmosphere of the castle.

Growing up in Los Angeles, some of my best childhood memories were at The Walt Disney Company parks with friends. For a little while, the challenges of living with a disability seemed to fade away. I felt free, just another kid thrilled by the magic of Disney. Sure, entering rides through the exit to skip the long lines wasn’t a perfect system—it drew attention to my differences—but it made those moments possible. I used to joke with my friends: “Want to trade disabilities for this perk?” Unsurprisingly, no one ever did. Guess the FastPass for chronic pain wasn’t worth it.

Decades later, Disney’s recent changes to its Disability Access Service and the growing shortage of Electric Conveyance Vehicles have created significant barriers, leaving many wondering if inclusivity still has a place in the magic.

For years, DAS offered a lifeline, providing virtual queues that allowed disabled guests to avoid physically taxing lines. But in 2024, new restrictions left many who had relied on the service feeling excluded. Black Enterprise Magazine reports a recent study shared with the IAAPA found nearly half of those denied DAS said they’d visit Disney parks less often; over a third said they wouldn’t return at all. A spokesperson for DAS Defenders summed it up perfectly: “The changes to DAS and the ECV shortage are creating barriers for disabled guests who simply want to enjoy the parks.”

The ECV shortage has only made things worse. Disney positioned these vehicles as an alternative to DAS, yet supply can’t keep up with demand. A photo that went viral of a sign at Magic Kingdom announcing all ECVs were sold out for the day struck a nerve. For those of us who rely on mobility aids, this isn’t just an inconvenience—it’s a dealbreaker. Imagine being told “the most magical place on Earth” has everything but a seat for you. These changes appear driven by cost-cutting rather than a genuine commitment to inclusivity.

Accessibility isn’t a bonus feature. It’s the foundation for creating spaces where everyone can participate fully. Disney has made strides in other areas, but these recent decisions cast doubt on whether they’re truly listening to their disabled guests. For a company built on the promise of magic for all, this feels like a step backward.

Still, I believe change is possible. Disney can revisit its DAS policies, ensure adequate ECV availability, and engage with disability advocates to craft a more inclusive strategy. After all, a more inclusive Disney isn’t just better for disabled guests; it’s better for everyone.

This isn’t just about Disney, though. It’s a reminder that accessibility is a collective responsibility. Whether at work, in public spaces, or at amusement parks, we all have a role to play in building a world where inclusion isn’t an afterthought but a given.

Why Lying About Disability Hurts Everyone

Silhouetted wheelchair user navigating through a bustling airport terminal during sunrise or sunset, with warm golden light streaming in from large windows ahead. The reflection of the light creates a glowing effect on the polished floor. Other travelers with luggage are blurred in the background, adding a sense of motion and activity to the scene.

Thanksgiving this year marked a bittersweet milestone for me: my first flight since the passing of my service dog, Canine Companions® Pico. Navigating air travel without his steadying presence was an emotional adjustment, but it also brought a new set of challenges to the forefront—ones I hadn’t anticipated as a wheelchair user.

Picture this: It’s the early hours of the morning, and I’m at DCA, waiting to board my flight to Seattle. Between navigating Transportation Security Administration (TSA) Pre-check, managing my luggage, and coordinating the safe onboarding of my wheelchair, I was already juggling more than most travelers might consider. And then came the questions.

The heightened interest in the mechanics of my Alber GmbH power-assist wheels meant fielding inquiries from airline staff who were understandably curious about the technology I rely on for mobility. Half-asleep and longing for coffee, I found myself explaining the specs of my chair like I was pitching a new gadget on Shark Tank ABC.

The lesson I learned? Preparation is survival. Much like I once traveled with paperwork to verify Pico’s working status, I now carry a one-page cheat sheet detailing everything about my wheelchair frame and wheels. It’s a necessity for safety reasons, and because of the pervasive scrutiny many disabled travelers face—scrutiny amplified by dishonest actions like those described in a recent viral story.

A passenger on a United Airlines flight tried to exploit early boarding by claiming he had a disability due to recent knee surgery. However, his actions unraveled when he requested a seat in the exit row, where passengers must confirm their ability to assist in emergencies—something Federal Aviation Administration regulations prohibit for people with certain disabilities. Faced with the choice of admitting he lied or forfeiting the coveted exit row seat, he indignantly claimed he was suddenly "fine" to sit there after all.

When individuals fake disabilities, it undermines the trust needed for systems like pre-boarding to work. Those of us with legitimate needs find ourselves subjected to greater scrutiny. Additionally, exploiting accommodations reinforces the false idea that they’re perks instead of rights—conveniences to be gamed rather than tools for equity. This attitude chips away at the dignity of those who rely on these systems. Disability is not a monolith, but one thing unites us: the barriers we face are real. Every "clever hack" or deception makes the rest of us pay a higher price, emotionally, physically, and logistically.

We, as a society, must do better. We must normalize empathy over suspicion and remember that accessibility isn’t just a checkbox on a corporate DEIA plan—it’s a commitment to dignity, inclusion, and equity for all.

Planning to lie about a disability to get early boarding? Read this

Rest Easy, Pico

A montage grid of photos featuring Ryan and Pico

Many of you know me for my advocacy work around disability rights, accessibility, and inclusion. Those who have followed my journey also know what an integral part of that advocacy my service dog, Canine Companions® Pico, has been. He was not just my companion but a key part of my mission to break down barriers and create a more inclusive world.

Last night, I had to say goodbye to my best friend, my partner, and my loyal service dog, Pico. Nearly 13 years of unwavering loyalty, love, and trust — Pico was more than a service dog. He made me a better human, a better advocate, and someone who could navigate the challenges of the world with confidence.

Waking up to the quiet today hits hard. It’s a silence I wasn’t ready for. Pico not only helped me navigate the world physically, but he also helped me grow as a person and reminded me every day of the power of loyalty, patience, and love.

Rest easy, Pico. You’ve earned your peace. Thank you for being the most amazing boy. I’ll carry your lessons and your love with me always.

One Step Away: Reflecting on Trump's Narrow Escape and Disability

Law enforcement officers gather at the campaign rally site for Republican presidential candidate former President Trump.

Evan Vucci/AP

This weekend's events at Donald Trump's rally in Pennsylvania have left us all grappling with numerous questions. How could such a security failure occur? What were the motivations behind the shooting? How will this historic moment reshape US politics in the 2024 election? Amidst the whirlwind of these discussions, one question has been persistently echoing in my mind: What does this assassination attempt say about our current views on disability in this country?

As someone who lives with multiple disabilities, this question is not just rhetorical. Former President Donald Trump has openly and notoriously mocked disabled individuals and wounded veterans. The irony is that by sheer luck, he narrowly avoided becoming part of the community he has so often disparaged. This incident starkly reminds us that we are all just one moment away from joining the ranks of the disabled community.

During the chaos following the shooting, Democratic strategist Johnny Palmadessa told Reuters he witnessed elderly and disabled attendees struggling to evacuate the venue. He described scenes of mothers shielding their children from bullets, husbands protecting their wives, and elderly people giving up on trying to escape because they couldn't move quickly enough. Palmadessa observed, "I watched elderly people struggle to leave fast enough. Some of them practically gave up and decided, I'm just going to wait here because I can't get out right now. That's not okay."

This heartbreaking reality is all too familiar to many of us in the disability community. During emergencies, our needs are often overlooked, leaving us vulnerable and, at times, resigned to our fate. The U.S. Secret Service, while prioritizing the protection of the president, has a responsibility to ensure the safety of all attendees, including those with disabilities. Their failure to do so at this event is a glaring oversight that demands immediate rectification.

The broader implications of this incident extend beyond just the physical safety of disabled individuals at public events. It forces us to confront how deeply ingrained ableism is in our society. Trump's history of mocking disabled individuals is not just offensive; it's indicative of a societal mindset that devalues and disregards the disabled community. As a result, the protections and considerations that should be in place are often absent.

We must advocate for inclusive emergency preparedness plans that account for the needs of disabled individuals. This includes ensuring accessible egress routes, providing adequate assistance during emergencies, and training all personnel on how to effectively support disabled attendees. The Trump assassination attempt is a stark reminder that our current systems are insufficient and that immediate action is necessary to prevent future tragedies.

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

Beyond Compliance: The Art of Fostering Accessibility in Your Organization

Business colleagues discussing architecture project in office.

Honored once again to be featured as a LinkedIn #TopVoice for Disability as we continue the fight for equality.

As we continue celebrating Disability Pride Month, let's address a critical issue: workplace accessibility. This isn't just about compliance; it's about fostering an environment where everyone, regardless of abilities or neurodiversity, can thrive.

A recent Forbes piece by Bérénice Magistretti notes that "80% of disabilities are invisible," including conditions like visual impairment, mental health issues, and chronic diseases. These often go unrecognized, leading to a lack of understanding and support.

Organizations can initiate change by acknowledging these invisible disabilities. The Hidden Disabilities Sunflower 💜 network provides a discreet method for individuals to indicate they have a non-visible disability, adopted by thousands of businesses worldwide.

However, recognition is just the first step. To genuinely prioritize accessibility, organizations must provide reasonable accommodations. These can range from assistive technology for those with visual impairments to flexible work arrangements for those with chronic conditions. The U.S. Department of Labor's Job Accommodation Network reported in May that nearly half of these accommodations can be implemented for free.

Disclosing a disability can be intimidating due to fear of discrimination. However, open communication can lead to better support and understanding, fostering a more inclusive workplace. When an employee chooses to disclose a disability, believe them. As a leader your first question should be "How can I support you in your role?" Normalize saying 'yes' instead of 'prove it.'

Psychology Today reports that "while 25 percent of employees self-identify as having a disability...most companies report that just 4 to 7 percent of their employees are people with disabilities." The latest Disability:IN 2023 DEI echoed these findings with a median 4.6 percent of companies reporting self identification of disabled employees. This discrepancy underscores the need for more open dialogue and understanding.

Furthermore, we must remember the importance of creating accessible physical spaces and promoting diversity and inclusion initiatives. Employers should ensure that their facilities accommodate individuals with physical disabilities. Encouraging the active participation of disabled employees in decision-making processes can foster a sense of belonging and representation.

Let's use Disability Pride Month as a catalyst for change, making our workplaces more inclusive and accessible for all. Prioritizing accessibility is an ongoing journey that requires commitment, adaptation, and continuous learning.

Why We Need To Bring More Visibility To Invisible Disabilities And Illnesses

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