Disability Policy Consortium

03/16/2026

Why It Matters Monday: When Systems Rely on Endurance

When access breaks down, the impact rarely lands on the system. It lands on the person. A delayed repair does not disrupt the manufacturer. It disrupts the wheelchair user. A meeting without communication access does not inconvenience the host. It excludes the Deaf participant. A reduction in services does not destabilize the agency. It destabilizes the person who depends on them.

Over time, a pattern becomes clear. Infrastructure is inconsistent. Accountability is diffuse. And the toll accumulates in very real ways. Energy that could be spent working, creating, resting, or connecting is redirected toward troubleshooting. Stress increases. Plans shrink. Hypervigilance becomes normal. Disabled people are expected not only to navigate their bodies and health, but to manage the systems that shape their access to the world.

This raises an uncomfortable question. Why are our systems designed in ways that rely so heavily on individual endurance?

When access depends on who follows up the most, who advocates the loudest, or who can tolerate the longest delay, it is not truly infrastructure. It is improvisation. Reliable infrastructure protects participation. Weak infrastructure shifts the burden.

Throughout this month, we have been naming the barriers and the hidden labor they create. This week, we are also noticing the pattern behind them. If access in a space depends on someone constantly pushing for it, what does that tell us about how that space was built?

03/13/2026

🎶 “This Is How We Do It” — Disability Advocacy Edition

Yesterday morning, our Wheelchair Repair legislative briefing at the State House started a little differently than most policy events.

Before the testimonies.
Before the policy discussions.
Before the stories about what happens when a wheelchair breaks and someone is left waiting weeks or months for a repair.

We started with a dance.

As the chorus of “This Is How We Do It” played, wheelchair users, advocates, and allies moved together around the room, kicking off the briefing with a little joy and a lot of community.

Right there with us were Representative Jim O’Day, lead sponsor of the wheelchair repair bill H.4358, and Senator Jo Comerford, a powerful voice for disability rights inside the legislature and a steadfast ally in this work.

And yes, they jumped right in and danced with us.

It was fun. It was a little chaotic. And it was exactly the right way to begin a conversation about advocacy and collective power.

Because there’s something important behind that song choice.

One voice telling the truth about a broken system has strength.

But when those voices come together, something bigger happens. Each voice matters. But bringing those voices together is what sparks change.

That’s exactly what the briefing was about.

Wheelchair users shared real stories about what delayed repairs mean in everyday life. Being stuck in bed. Missing work. Missing events. Watching independence slip away while waiting for a part, an approval, or a repair slot.

Each story carried weight.

But when those stories filled the room, something shifted. Those individual experiences became a collective voice. And that collective voice has power.

That’s why the song fit so well.

Because this is how we do it.

We raise our voices.
We share our stories.
We stand alongside legislators willing to listen and act.
And we build something stronger together than any one person could alone.

Advocacy doesn’t always look the same. Sometimes it’s testimony. Sometimes it’s policy work. And sometimes it starts with a dance that reminds us why community matters in the first place.

Because when we come together like this, we are doing more than sharing stories.

We are building the power needed to change the system.

This is how we do it. Together.



Video Description: It starts with a classic film reel opening up with a bright yellow bubble with text that says MA Wheelchair Repair Bills H4358 S2662. It then transitions to a hearing room with a large crowd of people. The front row includes many wheelchair users filled in with people standing around them. Signs are held in the left corner with the bill numbers. The people begin the dance with nodding their heads, wheeling forward, then waving their hands mostly in time with the music. This motion repeats a few times. Then they celebrate and cheer and Sen Comerford hugs Destiny while they each thank eachother. The video closes similarly to how it started with a film reel.

03/13/2026

Did you know the Americans with Disabilities Act moved forward because disabled people put their bodies on the line?

The ADA is often remembered as a landmark civil rights law. What is talked about less is how hard our community had to fight to get it passed. No one gave us our rights. We organized for them. We demanded them.

In March of 1990, the ADA had been stalled in Congress for months as House subcommittees deliberated. Leadership hesitated, and access and dignity for millions of disabled people were treated as negotiable.

So disabled activists escalated. ADAPT, a grassroots disability rights organization, organized a three-day campaign of direct action called Wheels of Justice. On March 12, activists marched from the White House to the Capitol. After a rally featuring leaders like I. King Jordan and Justin Dart Jr., sixty activists, including children, left their wheelchairs and mobility devices behind at the bottom of the Capitol steps and began pulling themselves upward. They climbed step by step, on their hands and knees, carrying copies of the Declaration of Independence in their pockets. When they reached the top, some entered the Capitol and delivered those copies directly to Congressional leadership, demanding they stop stalling and pass the ADA.

Four months later, it was signed into law. This history matters because it reminds us that disabled people have always been the driving force behind our own liberation. Access does not happen by accident. It happens because we insist on it. Our rights were not granted out of kindness. They were fought for.

That same power shapes our work at DPC today. Our consulting and training are led by disabled people who carry this history into every room we enter. We do not approach accessibility as a checklist. We approach it as civil rights and systems change, grounded in lived experience and decades of advocacy. We partner with organizations, municipalities, healthcare systems, nonprofits, businesses, and community groups to move beyond surface-level compliance and into meaningful, disability-led change.

Our training programs help teams understand not just what accessibility requires, but why it matters and how to build it into the foundation of their work. The activists who crawled in 1990 forced the country to confront physical barriers. Today, we help ensure new barriers are not built at all.

There is still work to do. Let’s build something better.

www.disabilitydei.org

03/12/2026

Today’s the day!

In just a few hours we’ll be gathering for the Wheelchair Repair Legislative Briefing to talk about something that too many wheelchair users experience but too few people see.

When a wheelchair breaks, life doesn’t simply pause. People can end up stuck in bed, unable to leave their homes, while medical complications begin to build. What should be a straightforward repair can turn into weeks or months of waiting.

Today we’re bringing those stories to the State House and talking about the legislation that could help fix this broken system.

There is still a little time left to register if you want to join us.

And remember, this is a hybrid event. If the weather is rough or your energy is low today, you can still join virtually and be part of the conversation.

Register here:
tinyurl.com/WCBrief26

We hope to see you there!

Video Description: Destiny is a white young female with long black straight here that goes past her shoulders. She has black thin framed glasses and blue eyes. She is sitting in her bright yellow power wheelchair and is wearing a white Tshirt that says; "Nothing About Us Without Us" with a disabled dinosaur that is rainbow in color. The dinosaur wears a yellow urostomy bag. Destiny looks excited and is smiling. Captions are beneath her video.

03/11/2026

Call to Action!!!

Tell House committee members to vote favorably on H.1360, the healthcare anti-discrimination bill!

Wednesday, March 18 is the deadline for House committee members to vote on H.1360/S.869, An Act relative to preventing discrimination against persons with disabilities in the provision of health care.

This bill protects disabled people from life-threatening discrimination in our healthcare system by ensuring that access to care does not discriminate against people with disabilities and preventing disabled patients from being pressured to sign Do Not Resuscitate (DNR) orders.

With the deadline just one week away, now is the time to act! We encourage you to contact House committee members and share why we need protection against disability discrimination in healthcare settings.

Make your perspective known! Contact legislators by email, phone, or visit their office in person. You can simply say: “I am a community member who cares about disability discrimination in health care settings. Can I count on you to vote H.1360 favorably out of committee by March 18?”

Contact list for the House members on the Joint Committee on Health Care Financing:
~Rep. John Lawn (Chair), State House room 236, John.Lawn@mahouse.gov, (617) 722-2430

~Rep. Meghan Kilcoyne (Vice Chair), Room 124, meghan.kilcoyne@mahouse.gov, (617) 722-2575

~Rep. Dawne Shand, Room 473B, Dawne.Shand@mahouse.gov, (617) 722-2263 Rep. John Francis Moran Room 443, john.moran@mahouse.gov, (617) 722-2460,

~Rep. Tommy Vitolo, Room 472, tommy.vitolo@mahouse.gov, (617) 722-2013

~Rep. Judith A. Garcia, Room 146, Judith.Garcia@mahouse.gov, (617) 722-2011

~Rep. Kip A. Diggs, Room 238, Kip.Diggs@mahouse.gov, (617) 722-2380

~Rep. Lindsay N. Sabadosa, Room 160, lindsay.sabadosa@mahouse.gov, (617) 722-2304 or (413) 270-1166 (Northampton office)

~Rep. Chynah Tyler, Room 33, Chynah.Tyler@mahouse.gov, (617) 722-2060

~Rep. Christopher M. Markey, Room 276, Christopher.Markey@mahouse.gov, (617) 722-2676

~Rep. Hannah Kane (Ranking Minority), Room 167, Hannah.Kane@mahouse.gov, (617) 722-2810

~Rep. David K. Muradian, Jr., Room 128, David.Muradian@mahouse.gov, (617) 722-2100

~Rep. Paul K. Frost, Room 124, Paul.Frost@mahouse.gov, (617) 722-2100

For assistance, general updates about the healthcare anti-discrimination bill, and/or to get involved with the campaign, please reach out to Sam Fein (sfein@dpcma.org) or Emma Gelbard (egelbard@dpcma.org).

03/11/2026

The Words That Soften the Problem

Sometimes barriers are not defended loudly. They are softened quietly. “That’s just how the system works.” “They’re doing their best.” “At least it got fixed.” “It meets the requirements.” “There isn’t much demand.” These phrases can sound reasonable. Even compassionate. But over time, they lower the bar.

When access is framed as effort instead of obligation, inconsistency starts to feel acceptable. When delays are described as understandable, urgency fades. When “good enough” replaces reliable, expectations shrink.

Language shapes what we tolerate.

If broken infrastructure is described as temporary inconvenience instead of systemic instability, it becomes harder to question it. If participation requires constant adjustment, but we praise adaptability instead of asking why adjustment is necessary, responsibility shifts quietly from the system to the individual. And that shift matters. When responsibility moves, so does pressure. The system remains intact. The person absorbs the impact.

But we do not have to accept language that redirects accountability away from infrastructure and onto endurance. We can name what is happening. We can say when something is inconsistent. We can refuse to let “doing their best” replace doing what is required. Making the invisible visible also means noticing when responsibility is being softened, and choosing to put it back where it belongs.

What phrase have you heard that made something bigger sound smaller?

03/10/2026

Making the Invisible Visible: When “Good Enough” Isn’t Enough

There is a phrase that quietly shapes a lot of the world around us: good enough. It shows up in small decisions people make every day. Someone looks at a situation and decides it will do.

Recently it snowed. Not a huge storm, just enough to coat sidewalks and walkways. The forecast said warmer weather was coming the next day, so many people made the same quiet calculation: It’ll melt soon. It’s fine for now. For someone who can walk, step over a snowbank, or adjust their footing on a slick sidewalk, that might be true. The path is messy, but manageable.

Good enough.

But for someone using a wheelchair, that same decision can turn a simple walkway into a wall. A few inches of snow across a path means you cannot get through. So while others move through their day, heading to work or stepping outside for fresh air, a wheelchair user may be inside looking out the window, waiting. Waiting for the sun. Waiting for the temperature to rise. Waiting for the snow to melt. Maybe six hours. Maybe eight. Until then, the outside world is simply not reachable.

And moments like that carry more weight than people realize. Because “good enough” reveals something deeper. It shows who was imagined when the decision was made, and who was not.

For many people with disabilities, this happens constantly. A ramp that technically exists but is too steep to use safely. A curb cut blocked by a car because the street looked empty. An entrance labeled accessible that still assumes someone can step over a threshold.

Each time, the calculation is the same. Someone decides it works well enough. But that definition was built around a body that moves through the world differently.

Over time, that takes a toll. It means waking up each day knowing access may depend on circumstances you cannot control. It means fighting with your body and your mind just to move through the world, while also having to fight the systems around you for the ability to participate in it.

That kind of constant negotiation takes energy. Real energy. The kind that feeds anxiety, isolation, and exhaustion. The kind that grows quietly when the world keeps telling you, through its design, that you were never fully part of the picture.

All of that lives inside the phrase good enough. But accessibility was never meant to be about what works for most people. It was meant to ensure the world works for all of us.

So the next time you find yourself thinking something is “good enough,” pause for a moment and ask a different question: good enough for who?

And if you live with a disability, we invite you to share your experience. When have you seen a moment of “good enough” where access for you was never part of the calculation? Because making the invisible visible begins with noticing what many people were never asked to see.

03/10/2026

Join us this fall to celebrate 30 years of the Disability Policy Consortium at our first ever gala! 🥳

Date: Thursday, November 19th, 2026
Time: 6:00-8:30 PM
Location: Artists for Humanity (100 W 2nd Street Boston, MA 02127)
Livestreamed on Zoom

Tickets and more event details are coming soon.

👀 Would you like to sponsor DPC's 30th anniversary gala? Visit dpcma.org/dpc-30-gala for a full list of sponsorship tiers and benefits. Reach out to DPC's Director of Development, Allison Habermehl (ahabermehl@dpcma.org), for more information.

03/09/2026

03/09/2026

Why It Matters Monday: The Hidden Work of Access

When access is inconsistent, the burden does not disappear. It shifts. Instead of systems working smoothly in the background, disabled people often step in to hold things together. What should be automatic becomes something that requires planning, follow-up, and vigilance.

That can look like calling repeatedly to check on a repair timeline. Emailing ahead to confirm interpreters are actually booked. Rearranging schedules when PCA hours change. Double-checking transportation. Re-explaining access needs in every new space. Keeping paperwork organized so services are not interrupted. None of this shows up on a calendar as “extra.” It becomes part of daily life.

Over time, that constant coordination takes energy. It changes how freely someone can move through their day. And it is layered on top of everything else. People with disabilities are already navigating their bodies, their health, their energy, and their routines.

When access is unreliable, they are also forced to manage the systems that are supposed to support them. Instead of focusing fully on work, school, family, or community, part of their attention is always tracking what might fall through. They are not just living their lives. They are managing their access to the world.

When systems are unreliable, people become their own safety net. And when energy is spent maintaining access, there is less available for growth, creativity, rest, and connection.

As we continue this month of naming and noticing barriers, we are also naming the invisible work that keeps participation possible when infrastructure falls short.

What is a piece of access-related work you find yourself doing that others might not realize is even happening?

03/05/2026

Take Action Thursday

Next Thursday, we are bringing the conversation about wheelchair repair directly to the State House and we want you there!

In the video above, I’m sharing more about our upcoming Wheelchair Repair Legislative Briefing and why this issue matters so much to our community. As a wheelchair user myself, I know how fragile independence can be when the equipment you rely on every day breaks down. A delayed repair does not just mean inconvenience. It can mean missed work, missed medical care, increased health risks, and being cut off from the community.

That is exactly why we are pushing for change.

On Thursday, March 12 from 12:00–2:00 PM, wheelchair users, advocates, healthcare professionals, and legislators will come together to talk about the reality of delayed wheelchair repairs and how the Massachusetts wheelchair repair bills S2662 and H4358 aim to fix the system by creating accountability and clear timelines.

You will hear directly from wheelchair users about how repair delays affect their health, independence, and ability to participate in everyday life. We will also share where the bills stand and what comes next in the legislative process.

This is a hybrid event, so you can join in person at the State House or virtually on Zoom.

Take Action Today:
Register for the briefing here:
tinyurl.com/WCBrief26

Once you register, you will receive the Zoom information to attend virtually.

Showing up matters. When legislators see the community engaged, it reinforces that this issue affects real people and cannot be ignored. Every voice helps move this forward.



Video Description: Destiny is a 33 year old white woman with long black hair in a braid. She wears dark rimmed glasses and has blue eyes. She is sitting in a bright yellow power wheelchair at her desk with a brick background with various plants behind her. She shares the importance of registering for the upcoming briefing.

03/03/2026

The Emotional Cost of Uncertainty

Unreliable access does not just interrupt schedules. It interrupts a sense of safety. When the systems that hold your daily life can shift without warning, it changes how you experience time. There can be a quiet undercurrent running beneath everything. A constant awareness that something essential could fall through.

It is the feeling of never fully exhaling. You plan carefully, but you do not plan too far ahead. You get excited, but not too excited. You accept invitations, but with an internal asterisk. You celebrate stability, but part of you is already preparing for it to change.

That kind of uncertainty lives in the body. Shoulders tighten. Thoughts loop. Energy gets rationed. Even joyful moments can carry a layer of caution.

It is exhausting to hold gratitude and guardedness at the same time. Over time, this can shape how much someone allows themselves to hope. Not because they lack ambition or resilience, but because experience has taught them that stability is not guaranteed.

When access feels secure, the nervous system settles. Creativity returns. Risk feels possible. Participation feels expansive instead of calculated. Making the invisible visible means naming this truth: instability is not just inconvenient. It asks people to live in a constant state of readiness.

What would it feel like to trust that the support you rely on will still be there tomorrow?