The inspirational case for web accessibility
It was just another Thursday evening, in which I found myself checking my Twitter to relieve the pressures of the day. Usually, I see anywhere from 0–2 notifications, but that day, there was one that caught my eye in my inbox. The message was a question I’ve received many times: “What inspired you to become an accessibility advocate?”
The question had been asked politely, conversationally. Certainly, it was intended to engage in a more in-depth topic with me. However, I’ve been asked this question so often that I need to clarify the true inspiration that led to this path.
Although I can’t say for sure why people ask this question, I think there is a good chance that there are some underlying assumptions associated with it. People who have met me know I do not present any apparent disabilities. I do not often mention my dyslexia, and I don’t often call attention to the other conditions I have. So I assume that when people look at me, speak to me, or listen to me, they think that my inspiration for this work lies in a grand tale about someone I love with a disability.
But I don’t have a story like that.
I don’t have a photo of a friend of mine to serve as “inspiration”, and I don’t have a story about their struggles to move anyone. I don’t need to have any of these things to make a case for accessibility. The truth is, I just think accessibility makes a lot of sense. I think it’s just good design. I think it’s for everyone we love.
The true inspirational case for accessibility is not one story, but many. I am an accessibility advocate because each of us needs to be.
I’m not writing this to attack questions and polite inquiries, but rather to call attention to an ever-present issue with how we as a tech community perceive and communicate accessibility. One of the consistent problems we face is our inability to empathize with others, particularly those we deem deviants from the “norm.” How could I care about accessibility this much without having a severe disability or loving someone with a disability?
The truth is, my motivation is not tied to someone I love with a disability. It’s connected to everyone who has a disability or will have a disability. It’s connected to my family, friends, colleagues, and self. Because many of us could have or will have a disability at any given time.
“[Disabled people are] the only marginalized group that you can join at any time.”
— Imani Barbarin
The word “disability” is not bad, but instead describes a state of being that we may experience situationally, temporarily, or permanently. In countries with life expectancies of over 70 years of age, people spend 11.5% of their lifespan living with a disability. I don’t need to point to an inspirational story about someone I love with a disability because there are many I already love with disabilities, many I will love with disabilities, and many experiences we all share around accessibility.
Accessibility has a business case; yes, — 15% of the world’s population experience some form of disability. The global market of disabled people is over 1 billion people with a spending power of more than $6 trillion. We could easily dig into the risk of accessibility lawsuits because they have risen significantly in the past three years. But we can talk about these facts and figures while still being unaware of the real value of accessibility.
Accessibility benefits every single human being on this planet. It affects how people get jobs, food, homes, medical care, etc. The need for accessibility is urgent, substantial, and constant. Our ability to make the web accessible is a matter of livelihood for disabled people, for everyone. A disability only is disabling when we don’t design for accessibility.
I’m not writing this to assign blame or criticize our work, but to raise awareness. I’m writing to say that as designers, developers, and tech professionals, we are responsible for so many aspects of modern existence. We have to engage with our fellow human beings’ needs in everything we create, with a heavy focus on the ethical consequences of our action, or inaction. That is the power of technology that we all know to be true, but have collectively let fall to the wayside for constant, all-powerful growth.
The nature of our work requires us to put more effort into empathy. At every step, our technology leaders have pushed innovation at a vertical axis rather than horizontally. As a community, we have continually pushed technology innovation to higher levels, while forgetting to look at broader communities and systemically marginalized people. Who are we leaving behind with every Minimum Viable Product (MVP) we push that leaves accessibility by the wayside? Every time we do this, we allow disabled people to be cast aside, bullied, and disadvantaged on the web.
“Disabled people aren’t here for your ridicule. We’re not punchlines. We’re people. It’s my hope that more people (and platforms, too — TikTok, I’m also looking at you) join us in this fight. We need you all. Disabled or not. “
— Melissa Blake
Instead of asking me why I care about accessibility, I wonder if we could instead all ask ourselves if we could stand to care a little more? I urge us to listen to the voices of disabled people firsthand and integrate their experiences with our process, rather than limiting our experience to the highly technical (albeit essential) Web Content Accessibility Guidelines (WCAG). I encourage us to look at inclusive design as an asset rather than a burden. As an essential component of our humanity rather than a checklist.
We are in a time when accessibility is better than ever before, but we still have a lot of work left to do. The truth is, we all need to be accessibility advocates to create an inclusive web for everyone. Regardless of what we are working on, we already have disabled users now. We will have them as long as there are people. As we dig deeper into learning about web accessibility, I hope that we can find a way to truly engrain it into every aspect of our processes. Everything from user story writing, user experience design, development, quality assurance and so much more can and should have accessibility baked-in. It’s time we all were inspired to do more to make our work accessible.
Each team member, manager, and tech leader needs to be willing to ask themselves what are our ableist biases and how we can do more? We must dig deep into the relationships we share with everyone around us because disabled people are everywhere. They exist in ourselves, our loved ones, and our colleagues, even if we don’t realize it. Today, be inspired to make the web truly accessible because we have the power to make it possible and we all know people who need it.
If this has inspired you to learn more, I would encourage you to start your journey with the following books:
- Disability Visibility — Alice Wong: a collection of contemporary essays by disabled people sharing their experiences just in time for the thirtieth anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act
- Accessibility for Everyone — Laura Kalbag: I love this book because it essentially lays out all of the WCAG guidelines in a digestible way. The book is quite brief but explains the essential elements of web accessibility quite well.
- Web for Everyone — Designing Accessible User Experiences — by Sarah Horton & Whitney Quesenbery is another book that is well-known across our industry as an introduction to inclusive design.
- Designing for Real Life — by Sara Wachter-Boettcher and Eric Meyer
If you have questions about accessibility in UX, I wrote another article that covers these 8 common questions about accessible UX. As you dig into accessibility, please feel free to message me with questions. I will do my best to help and answer them.
Special thank you to Mel Hardy, who was kind enough to take time out of studying for their Ph.D. qualifying exams to read and edit this article.
