The Power of Universal Design: A Look at Comcast's Innovative Remote

Illustration of Thomas Wlodkowski, VP of Accessibility at Comcast

Today as part of the ongoing celebration of Disability Pride Month, I want to spotlight a concept that's revolutionizing the way we think about accessibility: Universal Design. As a disability advocate, wheelchair user, service dog handler, and someone with a visual impairment, I've experienced firsthand the transformative power of Universal Design.

One of the most exciting examples of this is Comcast's Xfinity Large Button Voice Remote highlighted in a recent piece in Fast Company. This device, the brainchild of Thomas Wlodkowski, VP of Accessibility at Comcast, is the first remote built from the ground up with accessibility in mind. Wlodkowski, who has been blind since birth, has a simple yet powerful goal: “To make sure that the full menu of experiences within our entertainment service is available to as many customers as possible.”

Before this remote, Comcast customers seeking accessibility features were mailed a third-party device that was often seen as clunky and "medical." Wlodkowski knew there had to be a better way. He inspired his colleagues to create a device that was not only accessible but also intuitive and practical for all users.

The result? A sleek remote that’s 7 inches long and 2 inches wide, with larger buttons, bigger text, backlighting, an easier battery-change mechanism, built-in voice-command capability, and an instruction manual that speaks. The design process involved conducting focus group sessions with residents from New Horizons, a supported living facility in Connecticut for people with physical disabilities.

The response has been overwhelmingly positive. Comcast is now shipping about 2,000 units of the Large Button Voice Remote each week, up from 800 when the device first launched. The remote is free to all Comcast X1 and Flex customers, who can request it through Comcast’s Accessibility Support Center.

This remote is a testament to the potential of Universal Design in transforming the future of accessibility. It serves as a reminder that when we design with everyone in mind, we create a world that is more inclusive and equitable.

As we continue to celebrate Disability Pride Month, let's remember the power of Universal Design and continue to push for more accessible and inclusive designs in all aspects of our lives.

This Comcast exec did the impossible: He created a TV remote that’s actually well designed

Free Expertise? The True Cost of Devaluing Disability Advocacy

A colorful backdrop with a silver broadcaster’s microphone at the center.

In my life as a disability advocate, I've had the honor of standing up for countless causes, initiatives, and events. It's been a journey filled with moments that have inspired me, connections that have broadened my worldview, and the rewarding sense that I'm making a real difference. But there's a troubling trend that's been casting a shadow over these experiences: the expectation that my expertise, and that of many others in my field, should be offered without any compensation.

A fairly common exchange with a potential client:

Them: We’d love to have you speak at our event. 

Me: Fantastic. Here are my rates.

Them: Oh, you charge? We have no budget. 

This isn't just about money. It's about respect, value, and recognition. When organizations come to us for our expertise but hesitate at the idea of paying for it, they're sending a clear message: they don't believe our knowledge, our time, and our energy are worth investing in. This devalues our work, our experiences, and our contributions to the very causes these organizations claim to champion. You can't truly advocate for diversity, equity, inclusion, and access without compensating the thought leaders whose opinions and expertise you value.

Remember, you're reaching out to us because we're established leaders in our field. We don't need exposure as a fringe benefit for free labor.

This issue isn't just about me or about disability advocacy. It's a widespread problem affecting countless experts and professionals who are asked to give their time and knowledge for free. But as we approach Disability Pride Month, it's time to shine a spotlight on this issue in our field.

We, as disability advocates, bring a unique perspective to the table. We offer insights that can't be found in textbooks or online articles. We share personal experiences, hard-earned wisdom, and a deep understanding of disability issues. This expertise is valuable and should be treated as such.

It's time for a change. It's time for organizations to recognize the value of disability advocacy and to invest in it. It's time for us to stand up and say, "Our expertise is worth paying for."

As we approach Disability Pride Month, let's start a conversation about this. Let's challenge the status quo and advocate for the recognition and compensation we deserve. Let's do this together.

I invite you to share your thoughts, experiences, and ideas in the comments below. Let's use our collective voices to make a difference. And if this message resonates with you, I encourage you to share it with your network. Together, we can change the narrative.

The Importance of Disability Representation in Fashion

Three models wearing adaptive SKIMS clothing

"Taylor Lindsay-Noel says her “jaw dropped” after seeing the clip, which has been making its rounds on social media this week. “Disabled people are here to stay, whether you want them to be here or not,” she said in a TikTok directed to [Candace] Owens. “And we deserve to be seen in all forms of media, including lingerie and shapewear.”
—Natalie Michie, FASHION Magazine

In the wake of recent comments from political commentator Candace Owens deriding SKIMS for their recent ad campaign promoting adaptive clothing, I became instantly frustrated and annoyed before quickly turning my mind to curiosity. Whenever someone attacks diversity, equity, and inclusion efforts, one of my primary questions becomes, why?

Owens openly and proudly detesting these efforts as “ridiculous” is an indicator of just how far we have to go. People are fearful either of what they don’t understand, or what threatens them. To view DEI efforts as tiresome, patronizing, and being taken too far, as Owens does, is a tacit admission of privilege. The very idea that disability is something to be prioritized, placed front and center with pride and joy, to be celebrated and appreciated, must make someone as narrow-minded as Candace Owens fearful.

Ableism is not new. The disabled community confronts it in our daily lives whether it’s an inaccessible environment, questioning our capabilities in the workplace, or general derisive comments. What has increased in recent years is the brazenness by those in positions of power who publicly mock our right to exist as we are and not be ashamed for it. Candace Owens is a symptom of systemic ableism, she is not the cause.

Additionally, we have brands like Levi Strauss & Co., who late last week announced a partnership with Lalaland.ai, a digital fashion studio to bring AI-generated models to their modeling campaigns in an effort to increase diversity. While Amy Gershkoff Bolles, Ph.D. Bolles, global head of digital and emerging technology strategy at Levi Strauss & Co.noted that AI would ‘likely’ never fully replace human models, the caveat alone is concerning. AI-generated imagery aimed at the disability population certainly has the potential to increase revenue, but doing so artificially while claiming to champion DEI as a “top priority” is disingenuous. I’m reminded of the 2022 campaign by Pottery Barn last summer that proudly introduced its Accessible Home furniture line without employing any disabled models.

Despite what Candace Owens, or the marketing team at Levi Strauss & Co. has to say, disabled people aren’t going anywhere. As 20% of the global population, we deserve to see ourselves everywhere, and compensated accordingly. If that creates discomfort for you, interrogate why.

I’m thankful to the many disability advocates who continue to call out the harmful impact of ableism.

How The Twitter Layoffs Affect The Disability Community

The Twitter Logo with the quote “Twitter can not become the de facto Town Square Musk envisions at the expense of the accessibility that once made it great.” Attributed to Ryan Honick

If users want to emphasize how important the continued prioritization of accessibility actually is, we need to lean into one of the best parts about Twitter: how easy it makes it to amplify a cause.
-Alexa Heinrich, Adweek

For many disabled activists, Twitter has long been a place to connect, amplify, and create change. I owe much to a platform that allowed all of that to happen. Conversations with one-time virtual strangers turned into lifelong friends and allies, virtually and otherwise. The platform was never perfect, and detractors abound, but advocacy always faces pushback. Still, Twitter served as an important space where many found community and support as well as a direct line to key influencers; from journalists and brands to celebrities. Twitter was the first social network where it seemed accessibility was its foundation—in more ways than one.

Prior to layoffs, The Accessibility Experience Team was working on myriad projects focused on improving the user experience. For folks with visual disabilities, the team revamped its icons and automated reminders for the use of alt-text. The deaf community saw improvements with captions, and for those with sensory sensitivities Twitter updated its app sounds.

Unfortunately, all of that progress is poised to stop as Musk looks for ways to improve profitability following a number of high-profile advertisers rethinking their relationship with the platform. Companies including General Mills, Oreo company maker Mondelēz International and Pfizer Inc., have temporarily paused their Twitter advertising, according to The Wall Street Journal.

That pressure, coming from groups like Color Of Change, Free Press, the Anti-Defamation League, and GLAAD is the result of Musk haphazardly cutting teams dedicated to diversity, equity, inclusion, and access.

“We are witnessing the real-time destruction of one of the world’s most powerful communications systems,” Nicole Gill director of Accountable Tech told MarketWatch.

Sandra Sucher, a professor of management at Harvard University, told The New York Times Twitter’s cuts were among the most poorly handled that she had seen.

Speaking at an investment conference in New York Friday, Musk said: “Our goal is with Twitter, how do we get 80% of the public to join a digital town square and voice their opinion and exchange ideas and once in a while change their mind?”

With his latest actions, Musk is deliberately leaving out the 20% of the population with disabilities, setting Twitter up to become yet another inaccessible space where disabled people find ourselves unwelcome. Twitter can not become the de facto Town Square Musk envisions at the expense of the accessibility that once made it great.

How Do You Disclose a Disability During a Job Search?

Thank you Lora Korpar and the team at LinkedIn for the opportunity to be a voice on this important topic!

How Do You Disclose a Disability During a Job Search?

Crist’s Running Mate Says Past Special Ed Experience Qualifies Her to Deal with GOP Legislature

Charlie Crist (D., Fla.) announces his running mate, Karla Hernández-Mats in Hialeah, Fla., August 27, 2022.

"Karla Hernandez-Mats, teachers’ union heavyweight and running mate of Florida Democratic gubernatorial nominee Charlie Crist, was caught at a campaign event Tuesday claiming that her experience working with special needs children prepared her to contend with the state’s Republican-dominated 'dysfunctional legislature.'"
-Caroline Downey, National Review

Regardless of politics, nobody should equate Special Education students with "dysfunction" to score cheap points. The irony is, Casey DeSantis coming to the defense of disabled students is laughable when, as Governor, her husband actively refused to enforce mask mandates that would have allowed many of those same students equal access to education.

Zooming out for a moment, I want to talk about language around disability. There is nothing "special" about a disabled student getting the tools, resources, and accommodations they need to succeed academically and I personally cringe when I see the words "special needs" connected to equity and access for disabled people. To borrow a phrase from my friend Emily Ladau, "My only 'special' needs are that I occasionally enjoy being fanned with grapes."

In academia I would love to see a shift toward reframing Special Education as Accessible Education because that's really what it is. Similarly, in the workplace, Reasonable Accommodations can be seen as Productivity Enhancers.

The needs of disabled people are not "extra" or "special", or anything else that would suggest an undue burden on society. We get enough of that feeling on a daily basis simply existing. We don't need it negatively reenforced with language that perpetuates that myth.

Some may see this as splitting hairs. Language is powerful and can and should be a part of how we emphasize, teach, and talk about Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, and Access.

#DEIA, #DEI #diversityequityinclusion #accessibility #education #specialneeds #specialeducation #disability #inclusion #accommodations

Quiet Quitting Your DEIA Work

Friendly reminder to #leadership and teams in charge of #diversity, #equity, #inclusion, and #accessibility efforts: The ADA should be considered the bare minimum from an access POV. #Disability is diverse. Not sure what someone needs to thrive? Ask. Aim higher than the minimum. Your employees will thrive and everyone wins.

Focusing solely on ADA compliance rather than making something truly accessible in 2022 is the equivalent of #quietquitting #DEIA work.

The World Economic Forum

“There is a global disability inequality crisis. And it can’t be fixed by governments and charities alone. It needs the most powerful force on the planet: business.”
— Caroline Casey, Founder, the Valuable 500

Diversity, Equity, Inclusion and Accessibility (DEIA) is a topic advocates talk about daily. So much work is happening and yet simultaneously so much work remains. Oftentimes, I think of advocacy the way I think of a book jacket. The material might be the same but different covers may resonate with each member of your audience.

As the World Economic Forum kicks off in Davos this week, I thought it was important to highlight the Valuable 500 Initiative—the largest global network of chief executives committed to disability inclusion. Launched in 2019, the initiative aims to “set a new global standard for workplace equality and disability inclusion by engaging 500 private sector corporations to be the tipping point for change and to unlock the business, social and economic value of the 1.3 billion people living with disabilities across the world.”

Some of the world’s biggest companies including Apple, Microsoft, Google, Sony, and Verizon are among its participants.

Although 90% of companies claim to prioritize diversity, only 4% of businesses are focused on making offerings inclusive of disability according to the World Economic Forum.

A May 2022 report published by the Valuable 500 also found that:

• 33% companies surveyed have not developed or begun to implement a digital focus on accessibility
• 29% of companies have a targeted network of disabled consumers or stakeholders.

The cost of excluding people with disabilities represents up to 7% of GDP in some countries. With 28% higher revenue, double net income, 30% higher profit margins, and strong next generation talent acquisition and retention, a disability-inclusive business strategy promises a significant return on investment.

On the federal level, data on inclusion efforts tells a similarly disheartening story. A newly released report by the EEOC found that persons with disabilities remain heavily underrepresented in leadership positions; 10.7% of disabled employees are in positions of leadership vs 16.4% for those without. Further, the report noted that people with disabilities were 53% more likely to involuntarily leave federal service than persons without disabilities.

Clearly, both privately and publicly, a lot of DEIA work remains. These disconnects in the data further support the need for advocacy around not only things like Global Accessibility Awareness Day, but also an increase in disability representation to effectively close these gaps.

Let disabled people not simply have a seat at the table, but a voice in the conversation. Your company will be better off for it.

Some Minority Workers, Tired of Workplace Slights, Say They Prefer Staying Remote

“People with disabilities have been left out of civic life for so long,” Carol Glazer, president of the National Organization on Disability says, “If we don’t see them in our schools, in our communities, in our workplaces, it only reinforces a lack of understanding and the implicit bias that leads to microaggressions.”
Alex Janin, The Wall Street Journal

As companies encourage a return to the office, it is important to remember that people with disabilities are at risk for being left out of the conversation. Many are still unable to safely engage in an office environment for medical reasons. The pandemic helped normalize work from home protocols and accommodations which were previously a struggle. Now, with those same accommodations seemingly rolling backward in favor of a return to “normalcy” many are having to choose between their health and safety and workplace visibility, effectively risking becoming second-class citizens in their own jobs.

There have been numerous times in my own career where an office environment was not always the most welcoming. I’ve often dealt with disparaging comments, micro-aggressions, and the all too often unsolicited advice/commentary that accompanies being disabled. Non-disabled colleagues often feel they have a right to not only to our medical history but to freely dispense advice about how to handle it. It is not only demeaning, but presumptuous, and extremely harmful. As a near daily occurrence, this can be exhausting. Most non-disabled folks wouldn’t think twice about preserving the privacy around most other discussions concerning health, yet disability seems to be its own designated category, unworthy of such discretion and privacy.

An office environment certainly does have its place and benefits when it comes to fostering collaboration. I am all for those things and support them when they can be done safely for all. But we are not there yet. We have also demonstrated over the course of the pandemic that many disabled employees benefit from accommodations and that no workplace hardship is created in doing so.

We should not be penalizing anybody (directly or otherwise) who chooses to work from home for the safety of their own mental and physical health.

Some Minority Workers, Tired of Workplace Slights, Say They Prefer Staying Remote

The Pandemic Created A Systemic Shift For Disability Rights and Accessible Space, Even If It Was Accidental

For the past 18 months or so during the pandemic, time stood somewhat still. Normal routines shifted or changed while still others fell off entirely. One that I missed deeply was my daily Starbucks run. Yes, they quickly adapted and offered drive up or curbside options, but it wasn’t until recently that I began slowly reemerging from isolation, back to Starbucks, and into the newly established normal.

I admit my anxiety about reemergence is high. I routinely find myself asking what a post-pandemic world will look like. Will the lessons surrounding the normalization of telework remain? What about telehealth and virtual appointments? Will disabled people who were shamed for using grocery delivery or reliance on food delivery apps finally feel free of judgement since they’ve now become commonplace? And what will going out into the world look and feel like as a wheelchair user with a service dog in public space? Everything feels so uncertain.

On my daily walk with my service dog, Sir Pico, I passed my local Starbucks and heard the familiar Siren song calling to me. “Go in. It’s been 18 months. Go in. You’re vaccinated. You’re masked. It’s okay. You deserve it. Maybe grab some avocado toast while you’re at it, you entitled millennial.” (My inner critic really needs to shut up.)  It was part reassuring myself, and part feeling like my addiction grabbed me full-on by the shoulders and was shoving me toward the door. 

I went in. From a disability perspective, what I saw was glorious. The Choir of Heavenly Angels sang in my head. OK, so it wasn’t that dramatic, but what I saw was open space and inclusive design that didn’t exist prior to the pandemic. Social distancing meant no narrow rope lines with customers standing shoulder-to-shoulder. The tables that once presented themselves like a navigational maze with potential death traps not dissimilar to the game Frogger, were gone. And customers weren’t packed wall-to-wall in every corner waiting for their drinks to be made while I, at my lowered height uttered “Excuse me, sorry about that.” I no longer had to navigate between random display items—constant reminders that the world is seldom built with disabled people in mind. 

Instead, there was openness. I rolled in, and for the first time entered a public space that I felt gave me room to breathe. I had the ability to unapologetically be myself, to exist, and not feel like I took up too much space or was somehow unwelcome just by virtue of being me. I grabbed my drink which I had preordered on the app, thanked the barista, turned around, wheeled outside, and sat at the table contently sipping my Mocha Frappuccino, having felt seen for the first time in a long while as a disabled person.

If this seems like a simple moment to you, or perhaps like I’m getting too excited about an everyday event, that’s because I am. Not because I went outside and lived my life or because I’m vaccinated and the world is slowly opening. It’s because the pandemic has forced us all—especially businesses—to redefine what “normal” truly looks like. Prior to the pandemic, the disability community was routinely told that what we needed was “special,” or costs too much, or couldn’t be done because it created an organizational burden. But the pandemic proved all those obstacles were accepted simply because non-disabled people hadn’t yet felt the imperative to act beyond their own self-interest. For far too long the disability community felt excluded in spaces simply because they weren’t built for us. COVID thrusted upon the non-disabled a new lens through which to see the world, getting their attention in a way our screaming, yelling, and pleading could not; because they finally, for once, saw themselves in us. 

As a disabled man, I could not be more elated by the possibility that open space is the new normal. As short as our collective memories may be, I’m hopeful that at least this one lesson about accessible spaces sticks. The disabled community will continue to fight for more access and more inclusivity, but for right now, in this moment, I’m going to take the win for this unintended result of COVID. I wish it hadn’t taken a pandemic to get here, but I’m ready to enjoy the wide open space.