Talking About Disability
Stop worrying and start talking.
Introduction
As website creators, we can shape how people access and experience the web. This responsibility is especially relevant for disabled users, who more often rely on online connections as their main source of communication with the world. To fulfill this responsibility, we accept the responsibility of creating accessible and inclusive spaces for everyone. However, the fear of unintentionally offending others can sometimes hinder our ability to do constructive and meaningful work in improving accessibility.
“A lot of people with disabilities can be quite isolated and online resources is the only thing they have access to. So being able to go online and read up on the news, the weather, whatever, is a really handy tool and can really help someone on a day-to-day basis kind of feel in touch with reality, society, etcetera.”
When the stakes are high, it’s only natural to tread cautiously. After all, we deeply respect and value the experiences of our diverse user base, who span a broad spectrum of abilities. But trepidation should not become an excuse to avoid taking on the challenge; rather, see it as a catalyst and inspiration for learning and growth.
You’ll make mistakes, and that’s okay. Perfection isn’t the requirement; aim to take small but consistent steps towards becoming more empathetic and skilled in crafting digital environments that are accessible to everyone. What matters is a commitment to understanding, learning, and adapting.
Referring to people, referring to conditions
Inclusive language plays a role in avoiding stereotypes and othering, but there is no unilateral rule you can always follow. For each disability community and each disabled person, the answer will be different. If you’re unsure what words to use, listen to the disabled people from that community; when an individual or community explicitly mentions their preference, it’s important to respect and follow it. If you’re still not sure, it’s best to ask.
Don’t try to be euphemistic. Referring to a person with a disability as “differently-abled”, “special,” or “challenged” might seem like a positive way to refer to their condition, but for many, it’s perceived as condescending, out-of-touch, and dismissive.
Be aware of how language identifies a person with their condition. Choosing to say “person with visual impairments” for example instead of “visually impaired person” can be deeply meaningful to to many. Both approaches may be valid, yet they are preferred differently depending on the disabled community and individual.
Person-first language tries to reinforce the notion that disabilities are only a part of an individual’s identity and not their defining feature. For example, by saying “a person with dyslexia,” it places the focus on the person, reaffirming that they are more important than their disability.
On the other hand, some people consider their condition an integral part of who they are. They may not even view themselves as disabled but as being different in a way that connects them with a community of people who share a similar difference. They prefer to use a condition-first way of describing themselves, such as “an autistic person.”
“I like referring to myself as a disabled person to take back that word as a form of empowerment. Not to use the word person with a disability because it’s kind of subjectively pulling those two words apart.”
Disabled culture
For some people, their shared condition forms the basis of a community. For example, Deaf culture (written with an uppercase “D”) comprises people who celebrate their deafness. The community fosters a sense of solidarity and pride, rejecting the notion that their condition needs to be distanced from them. It’s an affirmation of a part of themselves they’re proud of, not something they feel compelled to minimize.
“I don’t like the word ‘disabled’ to describe me. I’m a Deaf person. I’m part of a linguistic minority. I know the hearing world sees me and describes me as disabled, but I don’t feel that way; I’m a Deaf person who uses sign.”
This same dichotomy can be seen in the difference between saying, “they are dyslexic,” for example, versus “they have dyslexia.” For those that feel strongly about their identity, the difference is important.
Don’t project
Very often, the words we choose to describe disability say more about how we think than about whatever disability we are describing. Phrases that emphasize suffering or limitation can inadvertently reveal a stereotype within ourselves.
Consider this: instead of saying they suffer from mental health issues, why not state that they live with mental health issues? Similarly, saying “they are wheelchair bound” or “limited to a wheelchair” is probably not a concept recognized by many wheelchair users, who see their wheelchair as a source of mobility.
Say what you mean
It’s okay if you receive occasional technical pushback on your language choices. It’s almost always given with a constructive intention by people who, like yourself, are interested in getting things right.
For example, describing a disability as a “mobility impairment” when discussing computer use doesn’t usually make sense. Mobility refers to getting around, which doesn’t apply to most computer use. Instead, use the terms physical or motor disabilities, which do impact computer use.
Not everyone who identifies as “blind” has no vision at all. People who are “legally blind” have a visual acuity of less than 20/200 or a minimal field of vision. People who are legally blind may have some useful vision. “Totally Blind” is used to describe total or near-total sight loss. In some cases, people who are partially blind in bright light can see significantly less in low lighting (for example, at night). This can mean someone’s vision goes from partially sighted to totally blind, depending on the environment.
Ableism
Sometimes the issue is not with how you say something but rather what you say. Be aware of ableism in your point of view and your communication.
When people posit disability as a problem, they look for solutions. Disabled people can and do have problems, which sometimes include pain and dysfunction. However, many of our problems are social, structural, and practical problems that stem from the idea that disabled people are fundamentally flawed, unworthy of inclusion, broken, or inadequate. This is ableist thinking.
— Ashley Shew, Against Technoableism: Rethinking Who Needs Improvement
Ableism, if unchallenged, can become discrimination based on the belief that typical abilities are what we should all expect and what everyone should strive for. The implication is that typical is the only worthwhile status. It can unconsciously and consciously seep into various aspects of our society, including web design.
Things to notice when you strive to remove ableism from your process:
- Taking an abled-first approach. For example, “Let’s get the audio up on the site first; we can always go back and add a text transcript later.”
- Designing for the majority. For example, “Four seconds should be plenty of time for most people to read the alert.”
- Prioritizing aesthetics over accessibility. For example, “Can’t we use a lower contrast for the text? The design calls for a light, subtle look.”
- Assuming users should adapt. For example, “Do we really need to worry about that web browser? Almost no one uses that anymore.”
You may encounter people who wrap their ableism in economic arguments. Ignoring the fact that they are suggesting morals are expendable when money is involved, they are wrong on the finances. Most of the work required to deliver an accessible interface only costs a willingness to learn, while the rewards of that learning will benefit your customers and your business. And when additional costs are needed, you will gain access to a new market of appreciative and loyal customers in return. Finally, you will protect your business from potentially ruinous lawsuits which, when considering the typical $25,000 settlement costs, makes accessibility look cheap by comparison.