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’

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

The Ripple Effect: How Staying Present Can Transform Advocacy

Still from Peaceful Warrior. Dan sits atop an old beat up car looking pensive. His mentor, Socrates, looks on with his had down.

In a pivotal scene from one of my favorite movies, "Peaceful Warrior," a dialogue unfolds on a bridge that has profoundly influenced my approach to advocacy. Dan, consumed by the hustle of life's demands, is suddenly plunged into the river by his mentor, Socrates. It's an unexpected, jolting act that empties Dan's mind of all but the present moment. This scene metaphorically mirrors the journey many of us embark on in the realms of disability advocacy and the pursuit of diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI).

As a disability advocate and someone who navigates the complexities of living with chronic pain and a visual impairment along with Cerebral Palsy, I've found that embracing the present is not just beneficial but essential. The advocacy road is long, often met with setbacks and a slow pace of change that can wear down even the most resilient spirits. Yet, it's in these moments, when we're fully present, that we find the strength to persist.

The bridge scene from "Peaceful Warrior" serves as a powerful reminder of this. When Dan is thrust into the river, all distractions are stripped away, leaving him utterly immersed in the "now." This is the essence of mindfulness — a state of being entirely engaged with the present experience, devoid of external distractions. For advocates, this focus can be transformative, enabling us to navigate adversity and continue our work with renewed vigor.

Incorporating mindfulness into our advocacy efforts, especially within DEI initiatives, can act as a catalyst for systemic change. It allows us to approach challenges with clarity, ensuring our actions and words are guided by a deep understanding of the issues at hand. Moreover, it helps us to maintain our resilience, a necessary trait for navigating the demanding path of advocacy.

As we push for more inclusive and equitable workplaces, the principle of staying present guides us. It reminds us that every moment is an opportunity to effect change, to challenge biases, and to advocate for those whose voices are often marginalized. This focus not only sustains us but also amplifies the impact of our efforts, creating ripples that extend far beyond the immediate.

In embracing the present, we also open ourselves to learning and growth. We become more attuned to the experiences of those we advocate for, fostering a deeper empathy and understanding. This, in turn, enriches our advocacy, making it more effective and impactful.

As we continue to champion the causes close to our hearts, let's remember the lesson from that bridge — the power of presence. It's a tool that can help us navigate the ebbs and flows of advocacy, keeping us anchored in our mission and resilient in the face of challenges.

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