What dismantling ableism means to me is moving beyond simply “including” people with disabilities and instead recognizing that disability is a normal part of the human experience. It means shifting from designing systems for the “average” person and then adding accommodations later, to designing communities, services, workplaces, schools, and environments that expect and welcome human diversity from the start.
In my work across healthcare, accessibility consulting, and community engagement, I’ve seen that ableism is often not intentional. Sometimes it shows up in physical barriers like inaccessible entrances, poor wayfinding, or inaccessible washrooms. Other times it shows up in assumptions. Assumptions about what someone can do, how they communicate, how they learn, how they move through space, or whether they belong in the conversation at all.
To me, dismantling ableism starts with listening to lived experience and believing people when they describe barriers. Not every barrier is visible. Not every disability looks the same. And accessibility is not only about compliance. It’s about dignity, safety, independence, participation, and belonging.
One of the biggest shifts we can make is understanding that disability is often created or amplified by the environment around us. For example, a person using a mobility device may not be “limited” until they encounter stairs without a ramp or elevator. A person with low vision may not struggle until signage lacks contrast or clear information. Someone with sensory or cognitive disabilities may be excluded by overwhelming environments, complicated systems, or inaccessible communication.
So when we talk about reducing ableism, I think there are a few things every one of us can do.
First, reflect on our assumptions. Ask yourself: who was this space, policy, program, or event designed for? Who might be unintentionally excluded? Accessibility isn’t only for a small group of people. It benefits parents with strollers, older adults, people recovering from injuries, people navigating temporary illness, neurodivergence, fatigue, language barriers, and many others.
Second, involve people with lived experience early and meaningfully. Not after decisions are already made. People with disabilities are experts in navigating barriers and often have practical, innovative solutions that improve experiences for everyone.
Third, think beyond minimum standards. Codes and legislation are important, but they are minimums, not the finish line. True inclusion often comes from small decisions: clear communication, flexible participation options, good lighting, seating and rest areas, plain language, predictable layouts, multiple ways to access information, and creating environments where people feel comfortable asking for support.
And finally, normalize accessibility. Accessibility should not be treated as a special feature or an inconvenience. It should be embedded into how we plan, communicate, hire, teach, build, and lead.
I also think dismantling ableism requires humility. We are all still learning. I learn constantly from people with different lived experiences than my own. The goal is not perfection. The goal is being willing to listen, adapt, and do better.
At the end of the day, accessibility is about people. It’s about creating communities where everyone can participate with dignity and where disability is not viewed as a problem to fix, but as part of human diversity that should be expected, respected, and supported.
That’s what dismantling ableism means to me.
