Accommodations Are not Access
Why we need to stop talking about accommodations.
The deadline to comply with the European Accessibility Act (EAA) is almost upon us. That’s great news, because it means businesses in the European Union, and international businesses that wish to continue to operate in the EU, must comply with EAA guidelines. That means better accessibility for everyone.
What it doesn’t mean is better accommodations. Let me explain.
We often talk about accommodations as special requirements that disabled people need in order to perform a given activity: reduced noise or light levels, computer software that enables different methods of navigation relative to the traditional mouse and keyboard, bathroom stalls that are big enough to fit a wheelchair, etc. More specifically, we think of accommodations as specific tools or process exceptions that allow disabled people to participate alongside everyone else.
In the United States, we even have an organization called the Job Accommodation Network (JAN) that serves as a free source of knowledge about “workplace accommodation topics.” They help employers understand how to make accommodations for disabled people at work, so disabled employees can participate to their fullest.
JAN does great work and is a valuable resource. But I have to disagree with their name. I’d argue they should be the Job Accessibility Network.
Accommodations are about preferences. Accessibility is about access.
I hate onions. I really, really hate them.
When we’re cooking at home and a recipe calls for onions, my wife and I leave out the onions. Or, if the recipe is heavily dependent on them, we just pick a different dish.
That’s an accommodation. It’s a way to make sure I’m not eating something that bothers my stomach (and my taste buds). But if I end up eating something with an onion in it, it’s not going to kill me.
By contrast, I’ve been doing a lot of writing lately and I’d like to crowdfund and publish my work. But I’ve been running into website after website lately that fails to comply with Web Content Accessibility Guidelines (WCAG). In most cases it’s very difficult to use these websites with a screen reader. In some cases, it’s downright impossible.
I need to be able to access some of these websites to be able to use their services for crowdfunding and publishing. Yet their poor accessibility compliance means it’s not practical to do so.
That means I, as an otherwise capable person with strong writing talent, and artificially limited from being able to publish my work. Or, at least, I have to jump through more hoops or get external assistance to do so.
That’s an accessibility issue. I am fully capable of writing and publishing. I just need access to the tools that already exist.
It’s not a preference. It’s not a “nice to have.” It’s not something that would make my life easier if it’s not too much to ask, but I wouldn’t want someone to go out of their way to change on my behalf.
In other words, accessibility is a need. It’s not a special need. It’s a need that everyone has.
Thanks to legislation such as the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) and the EAA, it’s also a requirement.
Other Examples
Let’s look at some other examples of what are often considered accommodations and try to decide whether it’s an accommodation or accessibility issue.
Scenario 1
Sue is hard of hearing and attending a conference. The conference coordinators hadn’t considered her disability when making seating arrangements.
Before the conference begins, they move Sue to a spot that is more appropriate (near the speaker,, away from noisy crowds, etc.) As a result, she’s able to better participate.
Did the organizers make an accommodation, or did they remove an access barrier?
I would argue the latter. Although they reconsidered Sue’s seating arrangement for the conference, this wasn’t really a preference. She needed accessibility to be part of the process in the first place, and the conference organizers had to scramble at the last minute because they didn’t pre-plan.
If someone had asked to be re-seated so they could be near a friend, that would be an accommodation.
Scenario 2
Charles has ADHD and works in an open office. He finds the ambient noise and constant conversations distracting, and it makes it difficult to do his work. (This is a classic example from JAN’s website.)
His employer asks how they can help, and Charles requests a pair of noise cancelling headphones to wear. The employer spends about $250 to purchase appropriate headphones and, as a result, Charles is better able to do his work.
Could Charles have continued to work without the headphones? Yes. Does that make them a preference (an accommodation), or are they actually a need (accessibility)?
I would argue it’s a need, and a way to overcome an access barrier. In this case, it’s access to an environment that enables Charles to do his best work. Open office settings can be a huge distraction for some people, so it’s incumbent upon the employer to ensure that their choice for such an office doesn’t impede anyone’s ability to do their work.
Scenario 3
(Adapted from something I heard during a Build Capable webinar.)
A team goes to a conference room to listen to a presentation. There are no lights, no chairs, and no tables or desks. The speaker talks to them without a microphone or slide deck.
When someone asks about the missing features in the room, the speaker points out that they’re not necessary and are part of the company’s cost-cutting measures. It’s expensive, after all, to run electricity for lights and microphones, to buy tables and chairs, and to pay people to install it all.
Then they suggest that everyone is welcome to bring their own chair, if they’d like, or bring a flashlight if they feel they need one. They can get their own hearing aids or move closer to the speaker if they have trouble hearing.
Are lights, chairs, tables, and microphonesaccommodations, or are they part of universal design principles that ? ensure accessibility for a broad group of people?
I’ll let you decide. Let me know your thoughts in the comments.
Accommodations Are Not Access
To ensure that everyone has access to opportunities to reach their full potential, we must work to reduce access barriers. That means building things from the ground up with universal design, accessibility best practices, and inclusion at the top of mind.
When we think of accessibility as “making accommodations,” we do everyone a disservice.
· We put the onus on the wrong people to solve access problems. If you wouldn’t expect every sighted person to bring a flashlight to work with them, why should you expect every blind person to find a workaround for inaccessible websites?
· We think of accessibility as a cost base, rather than an investment in a person’s potential. Rather than seeing people as being able to make meaningful contributions, if only we removed access barriers, we see accommodations as a cost that must be justified.
· We develop only for the greatest common denominator, and somehow think that’s sufficient. Instead of finding creative ways to design our spaces and software so that everyone can access them, we make judgment calls about what’s likely to be “good enough for most people.” The problem is that those judgment calls are often wrong.
That’s why we need to stop thinking about accessibility as accommodations. It’s a human right, and it’s the right thing to do.
When we design with everyone in mind, when we’re inclusive and universal, we’re not creating special ways of doing things so disabled people can have their different needs met.
That’s because disabled people don’t have special or different needs. We have the same needs as everyone else. One of those needs is to simply not be forgotten when we’re designing new applications or spaces.
What are your thoughts?
Have I successfully made my point, or do you think I’m simply blathering about a distinction without a difference? What other thoughts do you have about accommodations and accessibility?
Let me know in the comments.
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