Reclaiming Disability Language: Empowerment, Humor, and Advocacy

A conceptual image of a large pane of shattered glass with the words "spaz," "special," and "dumb" etched into its surface. A bold red prohibition circle with a diagonal line crosses over the words, symbolizing rejection of harmful language. Cracks radiate outward from the center of the glass, emphasizing the fragility and breaking of outdated, offensive terms. The background is a gradient of teal and blue, adding depth and contrast to the image.

Words. They’re sharp, heavy, and at times, loaded. But they’re also fluid, malleable, and, most importantly, ours to shape. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the language surrounding disability and how it’s evolved—how words that once stung can now feel like a badge of defiant pride when reclaimed.

A recent TIME piece by Angela Haupt explored how to respond when someone says something offensive about disability, emphasizing the importance of educating others without assuming malice. This idea resonated with me deeply, but I kept circling back to a less discussed angle: reclaiming the very words that have historically marginalized us.

I’ve heard my fair share of slurs: cripple, spaz, retard. As a kid, these words cut deep. But as an adult, I’ve found joy—and, dare I say, humor—in reclaiming them. These words only hold the power we assign them, and I choose to wield that power on my terms.

For example, my close friends often call me “Broken Kid” or “Spaz” endearingly. It's not mockery; it’s camaraderie. “Don’t forget your broken kid card for parking,” they’ll say with a laugh. And yes, it’s hilarious to watch well-meaning bystanders recoil in horror: “You shouldn’t say that!” or “You shouldn’t refer to yourself that way.” Their shock, while understandable, underscores the power of reclaiming language. For me, humor is not only healing—it’s a form of activism.

It’s crucial to acknowledge that not every disabled person feels the same. As Katy Neas of The Arc of the United States pointed out, “So much of what we’re seeing is behavior grounded in either fear, ignorance, or the normalization of incivility.” Some prefer to challenge offensive language directly, turning these moments into educational opportunities. Others disengage entirely, protecting their peace.

Both approaches are valid. Disability is not a monolith. But for those like me, reclaiming words is about taking back agency. It’s about laughing in the face of stigma. And sometimes, it’s about asking the cheeky, yet pointed question:
“Can I ask why you think that’s funny?” (Thanks for the tip, Jennifer Gasner!)

That said, humor doesn’t erase the very real battles we face for access, opportunity, and equity. I don’t overlook the damage careless language can do, especially when wielded maliciously. But I choose to find the humor where I can, saving my energy for bigger fights. As Lachi ♫, a legally blind performer and advocate, wisely said, “We win when we include.” I’d add: We win when we laugh—on our terms.

This approach won’t resonate with everyone, and that’s okay. Reclaiming language is deeply personal. But for me, it’s a way to strip harmful words of their venom and inject them with power, resilience, and a healthy dose of comedy.

Do you find empowerment in reclaiming words, or do you see language differently?

The FTC’s $1M Wake-Up Call to accessiBe: Why Accessibility Overlays Are Failing Us

A colorful and abstract digital artwork depicting a judge's gavel. The gavel is stylized with splashes of vibrant paint in shades of yellow, green, blue, purple, orange, and black, creating a dynamic, graffiti-like effect. The background is a chaotic blend of splattered colors, giving the image an energetic and bold appearance

As someone who uses assistive technology on a daily basis, I understand the value of true accessibility. Overlays purport to perform magic, but instead simply render many websites unusable, particularly for people with screen readers or those using other assistive devices. That’s why the recent $1 million Federal Trade Commission fine against accessiBe is not just a headline — it’s a landmark moment for digital accessibility.

The Federal Trade Commission revealed accessiBe’s deceptive practices, which included paying reviewers to talk about its products. Samuel A.A. Levine, the director of the F.T.C.’s Bureau of Consumer Protection, said in the statement, “Companies seeking assistance to make their websites [accessibility] compliant need to be able to trust that products do what they promise.” When they fail to do so, everyone loses — and so does the disability community.

Advocacy groups have been ringing the alarm for years. National Federation of the Blind condemned accessiBe’s business practices as “disrespectful and misleading” and more than 400 accessibility advocates signed an open letter imploring businesses to abandon automated overlays. And the risks for companies? Huge. In 2021, over 400 organizations utilizing accessibility widgets were sued over non-compliance with accessibility standards.

This isn’t just about the failings of one company; we need to rethink our whole approach to accessibility in the digital age. You might think overlays are the solution, but the reality is, there are no shortcuts to inclusion. Real accessibility is the result of audits, user testing with people who have disabilities and compliance with WCAG standards. It’s not just about keeping away from lawsuits — it’s about building an internet that benefits everyone.

The FTC’s action should be a wake-up call. Convenience should not come at the expense of inclusion, transparency, and accountability — so it’s time for businesses to prioritize it.

FTC orders AI accessibility startup accessiBe to pay $1M for misleading advertising

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’

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.

Remote Work Isn’t a Perk—It’s a Lifeline for Disabled Federal Employees

People walking past the Department of the Treasury building, a historic structure with large columns and engraved signage, on a chilly day with some leaves scattered on the ground.

For more than a decade as a federal employee, I’ve been proud to serve the public. I’ve earned awards, glowing reviews, and built a career I love. But here’s the truth: my success wouldn’t have been possible without telework. As a disabled professional managing multiple disabilities, remote work is more than a convenience—it’s a lifeline. It enables me to thrive in an environment that meets my needs and eliminates barriers that might otherwise exclude me. Now, all of that progress is at risk.

The Wall Street Journal's John McCormick and Te-Ping Chen report on the newly envisioned Department of Government Efficiency effort to mandate full-time in-office work is alarming. Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy, leading this charge, have made it clear that they expect resignations, with Ramaswamy predicting as many as 25% of federal workers could leave. To them, this might sound like trimming bureaucracy. In practice, this is a targeted assault on equity and inclusion.

Telework gave disabled employees the chance to participate in record numbers, eliminating barriers like long commutes and inaccessible environments. Meg O'Connell, PHR of Global Disability Inclusion, LLC explained it best to HR Brew ™️'s Kristen Parisi: “People with disabilities have what they need in their homes. They don’t have to ask for accommodation [because] they’ve already built out their space.” Why dismantle a system that works?

While many argue in-person work fosters collaboration, the private sector is proving otherwise. Glassdoor’s CEO Christian Sutherland-Wong told Fortune, “The biggest benefit we’ve seen…is being able to tap into talent all around the U.S. and the globe.” If companies like Glassdoor see remote work as a future-driven solution, why is the government pushing outdated practices?

This isn’t just about where we work; it’s about who gets to work. Forcing disabled employees back into offices undermines principles of diversity, equity, inclusion, and access. Policies like DOGE’s mandate send a clear message: “We don’t trust you or value your contributions unless we see you at a desk.” As Dannie Lynn Fountain, DBA, EA, SPHR, CDR of Google said, these practices are “still disability discrimination.”

The pandemic proved remote work’s transformative potential. It shattered barriers for disabled workers and redefined productivity. Now, that progress is being reversed. The stakes couldn’t be higher—not just for me but for all of us. Are we building workplaces of the future or clinging to systems that exclude?

Remote work empowered me to thrive, but it also redefined what’s possible for our workforce. Let’s not let fear of change erase that progress. Inclusion is more than a checkbox; it’s a commitment to creating workplaces where everyone can succeed.

Musk, Ramaswamy Want Federal Workers in the Office Full Time. There’s a Hitch.

Project 2025 and America’s Choice: What Trump’s Reelection Means for Disability Rights and DEI

Black background with white text reading 'What's at Stake for Civil Rights: Project 2025,' framed by a gradient border transitioning from purple to blue to pink.

For many in the disability community, the outcome of this election is a profound blow. It's a stark reminder that this is not an anomaly; it's a deliberate choice by the electorate. As disability advocates, we must confront this reality, grieve its implications, and prepare for the arduous journey ahead.

Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion efforts are essential for creating spaces where all people, including disabled individuals, can thrive. Yet, with Project 2025’s clear intent to politicize the federal workforce, these efforts face a direct threat. The plan to replace nonpartisan civil servants with political loyalists doesn’t just jeopardize the integrity of government agencies; it also poses a serious risk to any DEI initiatives within the federal government. When leadership is handpicked to fit a rigid ideological mold, DEI initiatives—particularly those that protect marginalized groups—become targets for dismantling.

For disabled federal employees like myself, this change isn’t abstract. It could mean the erosion of inclusive hiring practices, the rollback of workplace accommodations, and a shift toward a culture that prioritizes conformity over diversity. By undercutting DEI, the federal government risks creating a hostile environment for all who rely on its protections, effectively shutting the door on years of progress in fostering an equitable workplace.

Moreover, Project 2025 aims to politicize the federal workforce by replacing nonpartisan civil servants with loyalists. This shift could transform agencies like the U.S. Department of Justice from protectors of civil rights into enforcers of a singular ideology, jeopardizing the rights of marginalized communities.

In 2016, we told ourselves, "This isn't who we are." Today, we must face the hard truth: This is who we are. Our society has twice chosen a path that marginalizes, excludes, and actively silences people like us. As Scaachi Koul wrote for Slate Magazine, "This is a country where half the population is content in its hatred of women, of queer people, of brown and Black people, of anyone who comes to the United States from a poorer country."

Acknowledging the pain doesn't mean we give up. We have work to do, even if it's uphill, exhausting, and heartbreaking. But we have to begin by mourning what we've lost—the hope for a more inclusive future, the belief that our voices mattered, and that progress was possible. We may be in the crosshairs, but we are not powerless. We are still here, advocating, fighting, and demanding that our nation's policies reflect everyone's needs, not just those who conform to a narrow idea of "American."

So let's grieve today, gather strength, and prepare for what comes next. Tomorrow, we continue the work, not because it's easy, but because it's necessary.

Creative, Inclusive Workspaces: What We Can All Learn from the Adaptive Umbrella Workshop

Ryan presents via Zoom at a workshop on creating inclusive workspaces.

As we kick off National Disability Employment Awareness Month, yesterday I had the incredible honor of delivering the closing keynote address at the Adaptive Umbrella Workshop, hosted by the Bloomfield Township Public Library. This workshop focused on fostering creative, inclusive workspaces, and it was a privilege to share my thoughts on how we can create environments where everyone feels like they belong.

I've seen firsthand how conversations around diversity, equity, inclusion, and access are often treated like checkboxes—something to do out of obligation rather than a genuine effort to celebrate difference. During the workshop, we talked about how true inclusion goes beyond merely checking off boxes; it’s about cultivating a culture where disability isn’t a dirty word or something to dance around.

We discussed how equity, not just equality, must be the goal. Equity recognizes that everyone needs different tools to succeed. The idea that reasonable accommodations—whether it’s telework, flexible schedules, or assistive technology—are “special” or “unfair” is still prevalent in many workplaces. But these accommodations are about creating a level playing field.

In the federal government, where I've worked for over a decade, telework has been a game-changer, especially during the pandemic. But it isn’t just about the pandemic—it’s about offering flexibility for employees who navigate complex physical and invisible disabilities like chronic pain. Accommodations like these are about empowerment, not favoritism.

Another important topic we tackled was the disclosure of invisible disabilities. A 2023 study by the SHRM revealed that 47% of employees with invisible disabilities haven’t disclosed them to their employers. This comes from a place of fear—fear that disclosure will harm career prospects or lead to workplace stigma. Employers must create safe spaces where employees feel empowered to disclose if they choose to, without fearing repercussions.

Finally, we talked about resentment. Sadly, workplace accommodations are often misunderstood, leading to friction among coworkers who don’t see or understand the need. But as I shared during my keynote: It’s not the manager’s job to justify accommodations to other employees. Accommodations are about equity.

This workshop reminded me that building inclusive workspaces is an ongoing process. It’s about continuous education, open conversations, and creative solutions. The more we talk about what inclusion really looks like, the better we get at building work environments that uplift everyone, not just a select few.

A huge thank you to Jennifer Taggart and the Bloomfield Township Public Library for hosting such an important event, and to everyone who attended and asked thought-provoking questions. Your engagement fuels the work we’re doing to create a more equitable future.

The Floor, Not the Ceiling: Continuing the ADA's Legacy

A brick wall with a round button labeled "PUSH TO OPEN" featuring a wheelchair accessibility symbol.

All month long, I've been reflecting a lot on how disability is so often misunderstood. The Americans with Disabilities Act was a groundbreaking achievement for disability rights. But let's be real—it should be seen as the floor, not the ceiling, for what we aim to achieve.

A major misconception about disability is viewing it as a monolithic experience. It's not. Disability is vast, varied, and beautiful. Just like NPR readers pointed out, “Disabilities aren't one size fits all” and “not all disabilities are visible or immediately recognizable.” This diversity within our community needs more acknowledgment and understanding. We must break free from narrow definitions of what’s considered a “legitimate” disability. The ADA definition of disability is broad, in large part due to the recognition that disability affects everyone differently.

The ADA has indeed been instrumental in advancing the rights of people with disabilities. It opened doors and provided legal protection against discrimination. Yet, as Andrew Pulrang emphasizes, the ADA is often seen as “toothless” because of inconsistent enforcement and the persistent barriers—both physical and societal—that we encounter daily. Accessibility should be a basic right, not an inconvenience that gets ignored when it’s costly or challenging.

People’s ideas of what disability looks like are often so limited. They have these fixed notions that lead to gatekeeping and judgment. I remember when I got matched with Canine Companions® Pico, in 2014. Moving through the world with him opened my eyes to many nuances of disability access. Even though I’ve been disabled my whole life, being a new service dog handler was an entirely new experience. Pico and I faced challenges, but we also created positive change by challenging perceptions of what we could accomplish as a team.

True inclusion begins with empathy and a willingness to understand the varied experiences of those of us with disabilities. It means challenging preconceived notions and really listening to the voices within our community. As one NPR reader aptly put it, “Disability is not a fate worse than death. You can adapt, and you would if you suddenly became disabled.”

“Our disabilities are not flaws to be fixed, but integral parts of our identities that shape our unique perspectives and strengths,” Kim Chua told NPR. “We’re not defined solely by our disabilities. We’re whole, complex individuals with dreams, talents, and contributions to make.” By fostering a culture of empathy and understanding, we can work toward a society that truly values and includes everyone. The ADA was just the starting point, but our journey toward full equity and inclusion is ongoing. Let’s keep moving forward together.

As we close out Disability Pride, remember to lead with empathy and curiosity.

What NPR readers want you to know about living with a disability-readers-stories

The Power of Words: Trump's Harsh Views vs. Biden's Compassion

A disabled parking logo is depicted with blood dripping down, symbolizing the erroneous belief that disabled people should die. The scene is a dark and eerie, with the surrounding environment having a grim and foreboding atmosphere, including dark, leafless trees and a misty background.

I can’t stop thinking about President Biden’s address to the nation last night—his first since deciding to exit the 2024 race. His speech was filled with humanity and a focus on inclusion, qualities that starkly contrast with sentiments expressed by Donald Trump, as revealed in a recent TIME Magazine article by Fred Trump III.

Biden’s words from the Oval Office were profound: “We have to decide: Do we still believe in honesty, decency, respect, freedom, justice, and democracy? In this moment, we can see those we disagree with not as enemies but as fellow Americans.” This message of unity and respect is essential, especially as we celebrate the 34th anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act. The ADA, passed under the George H.W. Bush administration, is more contested than ever in today’s political climate. I’m not sure it would pass Congress in 2024.

Contrast this with the shocking statements from Donald Trump, as recounted by his nephew Fred Trump III. Fred’s article reveals a chilling disregard for disabled people. President Trump reportedly said at the height of COVID-19, “The shape they’re in, all the expenses, maybe those kinds of people should just die,” in reference to his own blood. These words are not just hurtful; they are a stark reminder of how far we still have to go in fighting for the rights and dignity of all Americans.

Biden’s commitment to disability rights has been evident throughout his administration. His support for updates to Section 508 of the Rehabilitation Act is a critical step forward. “The federal government has an obligation to ensure that its services are accessible to people with disabilities, including its websites and technology,” said Senator Bob Casey, co-sponsor of the proposed updates. This legislation aims to make federal technology accessible to all Americans, ensuring that no one is left behind.

I use a wheelchair. I handle a service dog. I leverage assistive technology to navigate the web due to my visual impairment. These updates are not just necessary; they are vital. It’s not just about physical barriers; it’s about breaking down attitudinal ones as well.

Biden’s words remind us that we are all in this together: “We are a great nation because we are a good people...The power’s in your hands. The idea of America lies in your hands. You just have to keep faith.” In contrast, Trump’s comments reflect a divisiveness that undermines the progress we’ve made and the values we stand for.

As we approach this significant anniversary of the ADA, let’s remember the work that still needs to be done. Let’s continue to fight for a world where everyone, regardless of their abilities, has equal access to opportunities and resources. When given the respect and dignity we deserve, we not only thrive, we persevere. The only thing that needs to die is ableism.

My Uncle Donald Trump Told Me Disabled Americans Like My Son ‘Should Just Die’

A Legacy of Inclusion: Thank You, President Biden

President Joe Biden, wearing a dark suit, light blue tie, and aviator sunglasses, waves to the camera.

I’ll be honest: the news that President Biden won't seek reelection in 2024 hit me hard. It's a defining moment for a leader who has profoundly shaped the disability community. His tenure has brought about unprecedented changes and set a new standard for inclusion and accessibility. As we reflect on his legacy, it's clear that President Biden's impact will be felt for generations to come.

Did you know that in 2023, the employment-population ratio for people with disabilities hit 22.5%? That’s the highest since the Bureau of Labor Statistics started tracking this data in 2008. The unemployment rate for people with disabilities dropped to 7.2%. These numbers reflect real, positive change in our lives.

Biden's commitment to the disability community is clear. Take Medicaid, for example. It now covers over 80 million Americans, including many of us with disabilities. He also boosted special education funding by $2.6 billion in 2021.

Let’s talk about student loans. The U.S. Department of Education's PSLF program was a mess, with a 99% rejection rate under the previous administration. President Biden stepped in and made real changes. He streamlined the application process, expanded eligibility, and fixed past errors. Now, thousands of public servants, including many with disabilities, are finally getting the loan forgiveness we were promised.

Air travel has long been a nightmare for many with disabilities. Recently, the U.S. Department of Transportation announced a proposed rule aimed at ensuring passengers who use wheelchairs can stay in their own wheelchairs while flying. This rule, if implemented, would mark a monumental shift in air travel accessibility.

The new proposal also includes several key improvements. Airlines would be required to notify passengers immediately if their wheelchair has been mishandled, repair or replace damaged wheelchairs, and return lost wheelchairs to the passenger's final destination within 24 hours.

We owe President Biden a big thank you. His dedication to disability rights has been unwavering. His administration’s focus on accessible infrastructure has modernized public transit systems across the country, making it easier for wheelchair users like me to get around. These improvements have touched the lives of countless people who rely on public transportation daily.

The policies President Biden put in place have laid a strong foundation for future advancements in disability rights and inclusion. As we continue to advocate for equity and access, we need to build on his legacy to create a society where everyone, regardless of ability, can thrive.

Thank you, President Biden, for your unwavering support and dedication to making our lives better. Your legacy will endure, and we will carry the torch forward.