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

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.

Red Flags in Job Descriptions: What Disabled Applicants Notice

A digital illustration of the Washington Nationals logo prominently displayed in the center, surrounded by vibrant red, white, and blue accents. The background features a baseball diamond with dramatic lighting, creating a sense of energy and pride. The design emphasizes the team's colors and tradition in a bold and professional style

Today, I find myself reflecting on a troubling trend in job postings that claim inclusivity while subtly discouraging applicants with disabilities. A perfect example comes from a job description for a Communications Manager with the Washington Nationals. The LinkedIn algorithm suggested I'd be a top applicant. A chance to blend my love of communication and baseball? My interest was piqued. On the surface, it outlines standard communication responsibilities—drafting press releases, coordinating interviews, and managing media relations. All of these align perfectly with the skills expected of a professional communicator.

But then comes the Physical/Environmental Requirements section, which demands:

• Standing for long periods.
• Walking long distances.
• Climbing up and down stairs.
• Lifting up to 45 pounds.

For a role focused on media relations, where exactly does lifting 45 pounds come into play? These physical requirements raise serious questions.

Let’s unpack this: The job description explicitly states that the Washington Nationals are "dedicated to offering equal opportunity employment and advancement…including disability." Yet, these physical demands feel like unnecessary hurdles, particularly for disabled professionals. This disconnect is more than an oversight—it's a systemic issue. Arbitrary physical requirements often serve as a quiet signal that disabled applicants may not be fully welcome.

Job descriptions like this one, with their misaligned physical requirements, highlight a glaring gap between intention and execution. They inadvertently screen out highly qualified candidates, not because they lack the skills, but because the posting assumes physical ability is synonymous with competence.

Nowhere in my 15 years as a communications professional have I been asked to lift 45 pounds.

Employers must evaluate if physical demands are truly essential. Is there a genuine reason for a communications manager to climb stairs or carry heavy loads? If not, these requirements should be removed.

Companies claiming to value inclusivity need to ensure their job postings reflect that ethos. Accessibility isn’t just about wheelchairs and ramps—it’s about eliminating unnecessary barriers in hiring.

Postings should explicitly encourage applicants to discuss accommodations. A simple line—“We are happy to accommodate your needs to perform essential job functions”—can make a world of difference.

Language matters. If a company’s goal is true inclusivity, they must start by removing arbitrary barriers from their job descriptions. Let’s make sure equal opportunity is more than just a tagline.

We're clearly in the off-season and the Washington Nationals latest job posting is a strikeout. Hopefully their next Communications Manager can encourage the use of inclusive language.

Why Disability Representation in Media Is More Than Just a Moral Imperative

Marissa Bode as Nessarose in Wicked.

As we close out 2024, I can’t stop thinking about Wicked. Not just the dazzling sets, the soaring music, or the star-studded cast. No, what lingers most is Marissa Bode—her powerful, unapologetic portrayal of Nessarose. Here was a wheelchair user, playing a wheelchair user, in one of the year’s most anticipated films. Groundbreaking, yes. But it wasn’t without its challenges.

Marissa Bode didn’t just act; she fought. When trolls flooded social media with ableist remarks, mocking her disability, she spoke out. “Disability is not fictional,” she said. Simple words. Monumental truth. And yet, the backlash she faced underscores a harsh reality: representation is still fragile, progress still precarious .

Why does this matter? Consider the numbers. In the U.S., disabled people make up 28.7% of the viewing audience. Globally, we’re talking about over 1 billion people. Yet, only 1.9% of speaking characters in the top 100 films have disabilities. That statistic hasn’t budged since 2015. Hollywood isn’t just lagging—it’s stuck .

But when representation is done right, it’s transformative. Take CODA. Its portrayal of the deaf community swept awards season, proving that diverse stories resonate deeply. Writer Siân Heder told Variety's Randee Dawn: “People can smell authenticity… Tell these stories because they’re fun, they’re entertaining—and they’re sexy.” Inclusion isn’t a risk; it’s an opportunity .

So what’s next? What do we want for 2025? I dream of a year when Marissa Bode’s story isn’t exceptional but ordinary. When disability representation doesn’t make headlines because it’s normal. When studios stop seeing accessibility as a logistical headache and start seeing it as a creative necessity.

Representation matters because it changes how society views us—disabled people. It normalizes our existence, shatters stereotypes, and inspires a generation to see themselves not as “other” but as integral to the human experience. It also matters because it’s good business. Let’s not ignore the power of a billion-person market.

But let’s be clear: representation alone won’t solve ableism. True inclusion requires more. It requires disabled voices at every level—writers, directors, crew members. It demands accessible sets, thoughtful storytelling, and a willingness to challenge the status quo. Hollywood can’t just open the door; it has to invite us in and let us stay.

As I look toward 2025, I’m optimistic but not complacent. The progress we’ve seen in 2024 with films like Wicked is encouraging, but it’s not the finish line. It’s a starting point. Let’s amplify these stories, hold gatekeepers accountable, and create a world where the next Marissa Bode doesn’t have to fight just to be seen.

Representation isn’t just about who gets to tell the story—it’s about who gets to be part of the story. Let’s make 2025 the year we get this right.

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.

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 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”

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.

Leading by Example: The Power of Allyship in Disability Inclusion

A line graph shows the steady employment rate for people with disabilities trending upward from 2010 and reaching record highs in 2023.

The landscape of disability employment is experiencing a transformative shift, marking an era of significant progress and inclusivity. Axios' Emily Peck reports a record 22.5% of people with disabilities were employed in 2023, reflecting a strong labor market and the empowering role of remote work. This transition is not merely an adjustment to a post-pandemic world; it represents a broader move toward genuine inclusivity, affirming that remote work is a crucial enabler for those traditionally marginalized in the employment sector.

Key Insights:

• The Bureau of Labor Statistics reports an increase in the disability rate among Americans to 12.5% in 2023, up from 11.7% in 2019.
• Labor force participation for disabled men and women has notably increased since 2019, highlighting a shift toward greater inclusion.
• Despite these gains, the unemployment rate for disabled workers was 7.2%  — about twice what it was for non-disabled workers, indicating persistent challenges in achieving full employment equality.

The expansion of the Disability Equality Index (DEI) to include more countries, as highlighted by HR Brew ™️’s Kristen Parisi, signals a growing global commitment to disability inclusion. Jill Houghton, president and CEO of Disability:IN, emphasizes the significance of senior leaders who "either openly identified as having a disability or being an ally for people with disabilities," illustrating that authentic leadership can catalyze profound organizational change.

Disability Employee Resource Groups, supported by the C-suite, are instrumental in fostering an inclusive work environment. These groups exemplify how investment in disability inclusion not only enhances corporate culture but also taps into a vast source of talent and market opportunity.

As we navigate the future, the journey toward disability inclusion will require a blend of innovative employment practices, committed leadership, and vibrant community engagement. By championing these changes, we can create workplaces where everyone, regardless of their abilities, can thrive.

Employment rate for Americans with disabilities reached record high in 2023

The Goldilocks Dilemma: Navigating Disability Representation in the Workplace

A photo of confident businesswoman sitting on wheelchair. Portrait of confident female professional is in board room. She is in smart casuals at creative office.

In the realm of business, the dialogue around disability inclusion often mirrors a well-rehearsed play: grand declarations of commitment to diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) are made, yet the curtain falls before any meaningful action takes place. This dissonance between words and actions reveals a profound misunderstanding of what authentic disability representation entails. It's not just about filling quotas or showcasing diversity for marketing purposes; it's about fostering an environment where every individual, regardless of their abilities, can thrive.

The concept of the "Goldilocks nature of disability" in the workplace is a testament to this misunderstanding. On one hand, individuals perceived as "too disabled" are often overlooked, based on the erroneous belief that they will require excessive accommodations or will not be as productive. On the other hand, those who excel, thanks to necessary accommodations, face skepticism and accusations of exploiting their disability for benefits like telework. This paradox highlights a glaring issue: many companies want disabled employees to be just disabled "enough" to benefit the company's image but not so much that understanding and meeting their needs becomes a priority.

Caroline Casey, in her Forbes article, underscores the imperative of authentic disability representation noting, "Piecemeal efforts like basic accessibility compliance or tokenistic representation fail to shift norms: what’s needed is a seismic culture change in how disability representation is understood and embedded across organizations from media and marketing to product design and accessible retail spaces." This sentiment is echoed in the recent initiative by Starbucks, as reported by Axios, where the opening of their accessible store in Union Market is not just a nod to accessibility but a step toward setting new standards in how businesses can and should integrate accessibility into their core operations.

However, as someone who has advocated for accessible entrances at my local Starbucks for nearly a decade, with success only coming in January 2024, I can't help but view this development with a mix of appreciation and irony.

True inclusion requires a shift in mindset—from viewing accommodations as a burden to seeing them as an investment in a diverse workforce reflecting the world we live in. It's about recognizing that every employee brings a unique set of skills and perspectives that, when harnessed, lead to innovation and growth.

As we navigate the complexities of disability inclusion, let us challenge ourselves and our organizations to move beyond performative actions. Let's commit to listening, learning, and adapting. Let's strive for a workplace where everyone is not just accommodated but truly included and valued.

Authentic Disability Representation Is A Business Imperative