Normalizing Accommodations as Universal Human Needs

By Jennifer Alumbaugh

“You’re lazy.”  “Maybe if you tried harder…”  “You just want the easy way out.”  “You must not care if you forget things so easily.”  “You make so many mistakes. I guess this is just not important to you.”

Oooof.

If you’re someone who’s neurodivergent collection includes ADHD like me, chances are you’ve heard one, some, or all of these statements in a variety of settings like school, work, community, and family.  We get discriminated against, mocked, passed over for awards and promotions, even fired or expelled due to others’ perception of our behavior–due to what they *think* is the meaning behind it rather than being genuinely curious about what’s going on for us.

These stigmas are part of what makes accommodating ourselves so challenging–not only are we working against external factors, but most of us are battling with the internalized ableism we’ve been socialized to think about ourselves.  It’s hard to believe, truly in our bones, that we are worthy of getting the support we need to be our best self.

Additionally, despite the fact that employers are legally not allowed to ask about specific medical conditions or diagnoses, most accommodations processes require employees and students to disclose highly personal information about themselves, to “out” themselves as disabled in some fashion all of which makes us vulnerable to more discrimination, misperception, and even retaliation.

In my work as an Accommodations Consultant with NeuroSpark Health, I support clients through the process of getting the accommodations they need at work, at school in higher education, and even at home in their personal lives.  Accommodations create a more equitable environment in which all people have greater access to what they need in order to thrive.  I use the word “equitable” because “equality” doesn’t get us very far at all when we’re talking about accessibility.  Equality is everyone getting the same thing–in an office that looks like, same cubicle, same computer setup, same phone system, same protective gear, etc.  In school that can look like, all the students taking the same exam in the same room for the same amount of time.

Everyone getting the same thing may sound fair, but it fails to account for the beautifully diverse needs of our brains and our bodies.  Equity factors those differences in and accommodates for the gaps in that everyone gets what they need in order to level the field and reduce barriers across ability, class, race, neurotype, gender, sexuality, religion, weight, size, and age.

I want to add a quick note here that accommodating our needs is a fundamental human right and that it’s not just so we can be part of larger production systems.  Our value as neurodivergent and disabled humans is inherent. Period. Full stop.  Our worthiness to have access to a thriving life and the supports we need to experience that should never be contingent upon what we produce or accomplish in school, the workplace, or community at large.  We shouldn’t have to *earn* access to the world.  We are worthy of access, of thriving, of dignity, of equity, and of inclusion simply because we exist.

When differentiating the difference between equity and equality, this graphic by the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, can help us to visualize how much more expansive equitable access is than equal access.

As a kid, did you ever do those picture games, where you have to spot the difference between two illustrations?  Or maybe now, the grown-up version is checking to see if an image is an AI debacle or an actual photo!  Either way, before we get into it, how many accessibility changes can you spot in the equity illustration on the right with the blue background?

In the illustration on the left, there are four people at the edge of a sidewalk curb with a drop of several inches to the road.  There is one yellow “caution people walking” sign.  Included in the group of people are an elder white man with a white cane, a femme with brown skin who is an amputee using a wheelchair, a younger white man who has no apparent disabilities, and a child who is a black girl who also has no apparent disabilities.

In the illustration on the right, we have the same people but this time the curb includes the following accessibility accommodations: curb cut sloping down to the road; bumps on the curb cut to signal to blind people using a white cane that the sidewalk is ending; a crosswalk with different color lights with picture images for “walk” and “don’t walk” for people who are deaf and hard of hearing as well; the lit images also create access across language differences; there also shows sound waves illustrating there are audio prompts for crossing and stopping.  This illustration doesn’t show it, but there is often a large button labeled in Braille to push to prompt the crossing signal–and the larger button is an equitable upgrade from the tiny button that used to require precision pressing with a single finger.

In addition to these accommodations making it more accessible for disabled people to move independently, they serve all people using the crosswalk: someone pushing a baby stroller has an easier time using a curb with a ramp cut; someone checking their phone while they wait is alerted by the audio prompt to cross; the large button is easily pressed with an elbow or other object if a person has their hands full.

I’m on a mission to normalize accommodations as just plain universal human needs.

It’s like why we advocate for everyone to share their pronouns because if everyone is doing it, trans and gender expansive people don’t have to feel as exposed if they are the only ones offering their pronouns.

Normalizing accommodations as plain human needs can look like a survey that happens with onboarding in a school or workplace that asks things like:

• How do you best learn new things?

• How do you like to receive feedback and guidance in your work?

• How involved do you want to be in office social events?

• What is an optimal time of day to attend a networking mixer?

When we begin to look at accommodations through an intersectionality lens of universal human needs, we factor in more variables across all identities.

For example, if coworkers organize a regular after-hours happy hour to hang out and build relationships across departments and leadership levels, this kind of event can exclude the following people:

• Caregivers–parents of children who are home after school; adults caring for family members or aging parents

• People who don’t have the financial means to go out eating and drinking regularly (and possibly needing to also pay for a ride home after drinking)

• Some public transit in less metropolitan areas can stop running before an event like that would finish, so those using public transportation would be left out

• Folks who are living sober may not be interested or able to attend an event where alcohol is being served

• People with various sensory processing issues may find it difficult to enjoy a setting if it dysregulates their nervous system

• Folks who are maintaining Covid-conscious precautions to protect themselves and others, especially chronically ill and immunocompromised loved ones find these kinds of gatherings inaccessible

While this is hardly an exhaustive list, you can see that when we begin to consider needs of humans beyond the “standard accommodations for apparent disabilities,” there is opportunity for more comprehensive inclusion.  Accessibility requires thoughtfulness, people with lived-experience at the helm of design and decisions, and a commitment to curiosity about those around us and what makes it possible for them to experience belonging.

Your challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to begin to notice the next time you attend a conference, meeting, event, or gathering: 

• Who is missing?  

• Could they access this space & activity if they were here?

• What changes could give access to more people to participate?

• What barriers do you notice?

• What accessibility features do you notice?

• How are you accommodating yourself in any of the following ways:

  • How you get there?

  • What you wear?

  • Where you sit?

  • What you bring with you (beverage/water, personal hygiene items, phone, etc)?

  • Restroom availability?

  • Seating?

  • Sound?

  • Learning style and supports (notebook, writing instrument, laptop, etc)?

  • Breaks?

I’d love to hear about your experience if you do this exercise!  Share in the comments or feel free to reach out to me at Jennifer@NeuroSparkHealth.com.