Accessibility Does Not Mean Everything for Everyone
Accessibility does not require that every space be usable by every person with every possible disability, nor has that ever been the standard. Absolute accessibility is neither realistic nor necessary. The relevant question for leaders is not whether perfection is possible, but whether reasonable and foreseeable barriers are being left in place without justification.
A rock-climbing wall, for example, cannot be made accessible to a person without upper or lower limb function without ceasing to be a climbing wall. These are legitimate limits and acknowledging them is not discrimination. It is clarity.
Most public spaces and civic functions, however, do not fall into this category. Meeting rooms, polling places, sidewalks, libraries, schools, parks, public hearings, and community events lose nothing by being designed or renovated to be accessible. In these settings, barriers such as stairs without ramps, hallways being used for storage that makes them inaccessible for mobility-impaired people, meetings without captions or interpreters, inaccessible seating, or restrooms that cannot be utilized by wheelchair users do not serve the function of the space at all. They simply exclude people.
The False Dilemma of “You Can’t Include Everyone”
When leaders argue that “you cannot include everyone,” they often confuse real limitations with design choices that could easily be changed. This framing creates a false dilemma that justifies inaction. The appropriate standard is inclusion wherever access does not interfere with the intended function of the space, and exclusion only where that function would be fundamentally altered.
Doing nothing about accessibility is still a decision about who gets to participate. It is a policy decision that prioritizes convenience, tradition, or cost over participation. Effective leadership treats accessibility as infrastructure rather than accommodation, assumes disabled people will be present, and removes barriers that exist only because no one in authority bothered to question them.
The Problem with “Accessibility Reactions”
But another way of not planning for accessibility is by doing “accessibility reactions.” Accessibility reactions are when new or modified accessibility is determined only by requests from a single family seeking a modification for one specific disabled child, family member, or small, yet vocal advocacy group. Leaders and front-end staff should of course respond with care and urgency when a need is raised, but the request should also trigger a broader question: is this an isolated situation, or is it a visible symptom of a larger access gap that affects many disabled people?
If accessibility is handled only through one-off requests, communities risk investing time and money in highly specialized solutions that serve one person while leaving larger, more basic barriers untouched. That approach can create the appearance of inclusion while continuing to exclude a far greater number of people from essential services, public participation, and civic life.
Baseline Access Must Come First
A better approach is to look for baseline access barriers first and then layering individualized accommodations on top of that foundation when needed. For example, a city might install a wheelchair-accessible swing at one park to meet the needs of a child who uses a heavy electric wheelchair. That may be a meaningful improvement for that family, but it does not address the larger question of whether wheelchair users can access the pavilions at any of the parks, whether there is usable seating throughout the space, or whether restrooms and pathways are truly accessible.
Similarly, holding a major public meeting in a venue where the only seating is bleachers sends a clear message about who is expected to attend. Even if staff are willing to “make adjustments” on request, the default setup already excludes wheelchair users and others who cannot use bleachers. If leaders want participation, access cannot be optional, improvised, or dependent on individuals having to ask for what should have been anticipated.
When Easy Fixes Replace Real Solutions
Too often, community leaders are willing to address accessibility issues that are easy, visible, and politically safe, while avoiding harder, more systemic barriers that require coordination, enforcement, or internal conflict. Installing a ramp in a location where there is ample space and minimal pushback may be straightforward.
Addressing the fact that on-street parallel parking is the only parking available, making access impossible for wheelchair users, is not. Enforcing laws against residents who block sidewalks with parked cars is not. When people park across sidewalks so they can fit more vehicles into their driveways, they block access not only for wheelchair users, but also for people using rollators, parents with strollers, and others with mobility needs.
Yet these violations are often ignored because enforcing them would require police departments, public works, and local leadership to prioritize accessibility over convenience. When a police chief dismisses parking enforcement by claiming there are more important things to do, the result is predictable. Disabled people are the ones who lose access to essential meetings, services, and civic life.
Internal power struggles and departmental avoidance may be invisible to the public, but their impact is not. When leaders fail to resolve these conflicts, accessibility becomes optional, and people with disabilities pay the price.
When Accessibility Exists Only on Paper
Another critical and often overlooked area is code enforcement. Many communities are diligent about regulating visible, easily measured requirements such as the number of designated accessible parking spaces in shopping centers, which are typically calculated by square footage and routinely inspected. These requirements are clear, familiar, and relatively easy to enforce.
Accessibility inside buildings, however, is far less consistently monitored. Small stores and boutiques often fill their spaces with merchandise to the point that aisles are too narrow for a wheelchair user, a person using a rollator, or someone with mobility limitations to even enter the store, let alone shop independently. Beauty shops and nail salons, particularly those that are independently owned rather than national chains, frequently create similar barriers. In an effort to maximize revenue, they install too many service stations or crowd their floors with product displays, leaving insufficient space for disabled customers to navigate safely or reach services. These barriers are rarely checked proactively. At best, they are addressed only after a complaint is filed, and even then, follow-up is inconsistent or incomplete.
The same pattern appears in restaurants and public buildings where accessible restrooms technically exist, but hallways leading to them are blocked by boxes, stacked chairs, or stored equipment. When access routes are obstructed, the presence of an accessible restroom becomes meaningless. In many retail stores, accessible changing rooms are routinely used for storage, filled with boxes of hangers, incoming stock waiting to be put out, or outgoing trash, rendering them unavailable to the people who need them.
In larger buildings, elevators that serve both the public and janitorial staff are frequently treated as storage or transport space. Trash bins, laundry carts, bundled linens, or bags of refuse are left inside, sometimes for extended periods. When this happens, a disabled person may be completely blocked from reaching another floor, with no way to alert staff or meeting participants that access has been cut off.
Outdoor access is undermined in similar ways. The striped access areas next to designated parking spaces are often blocked by motorcycles or street-legal golf carts. This can make it impossible for a wheelchair user to deploy a ramp or safely exit their vehicle. In some cases, people return to their cars only to find they must wait until the motorcycle or golf cart owner reappears, which is especially dangerous in extreme heat, high winds, or heavy rain. Sidewalks are also frequently obstructed by bicycles or scooters chained to poles and traffic signs, blocking passage for hours at a time. When this happens, disabled people who are stopped by the obstruction often have no practical way to resolve the situation.
In each of these cases, accessibility exists on paper but not in reality. Without consistent enforcement and clear accountability, basic access can be undone by everyday operational decisions. The result is predictable. People with disabilities are excluded from spaces and services they are legally entitled to use, not because access was impossible, but because maintaining it was not treated as a priority.
Rethinking “The Greatest Good for the Greatest Number”
For community leaders, the answer to accessibility cannot be reduced to the old adage of “doing the greatest good for the greatest number,” because that logic breaks down the moment disability is involved. If left unchallenged, it simply becomes a way to justify serving the largest non-disabled majority while treating disabled people as a secondary concern or an added expense. That is not sound leadership.
Accessibility is not about maximizing convenience for most people. It is about removing barriers that prevent entire groups from participating in shared civic life. The right question is not “who represents the largest group,” but “who is being prevented from entering, participating, or being heard at all.”
When leaders focus on removing the barriers that fully block participation, access decisions become clearer and more defensible. Designing for people who are most likely to be excluded almost always improves the experience for everyone else as well. Ramps also help parents with strollers and workers with carts. Clear signage benefits visitors and first-time attendees. Wider aisles reduce congestion and improve safety.
Accessibility works best when it is treated as a requirement for full participation, not as a favor or an exception. A community should be judged by whether people with the least power can take part without having to ask for special permission or extraordinary help.
Making Hard Choices with Limited Resources
Communities also have to acknowledge that accessibility decisions are made within real budget limits. City and county resources are not infinite, and leaders are often faced with difficult choices, such as whether to allocate funds to make one public building accessible or to direct those same funds toward improving access in a park, library, or transportation corridor.
These decisions are especially complex in historic communities, where many civic buildings were constructed long before accessibility standards existed. Stair-only entrances, inadequate or poorly placed ramps, buildings without elevators, and narrow interior layouts are common. Mixed-use neighborhoods further complicate the issue, with government offices, private homes, apartments, and businesses sharing limited on-street parking and constrained public space.
Acknowledging these constraints is necessary, but it cannot become a reason for inaction. Prioritization must be guided by impact.
Leaders should focus first on changes that open access to essential services, public decision-making, and daily civic participation for the greatest number of people. When budgets are limited, the question is not whether accessibility can be afforded everywhere at once, but whether investments are being directed where exclusion is most severe and consequences are highest.
In historic communities especially, thoughtful planning, phased improvements, and coordinated use of funds are essential to avoid preserving tradition at the expense of participation.
Accessibility as a Measure of Leadership
At its core, accessibility is a leadership decision. It reflects whose time, presence, and participation are valued enough to plan for in advance. Communities already make choices every day about where to invest, what to enforce, and which problems are considered urgent. Accessibility belongs in those decisions.
Accessibility is not achieved through good intentions or symbolic gestures. It is built through planning, enforcement, and follow-through. Communities that treat access as optional, reactive, or secondary inevitably create systems that work only for those already able to navigate them.
Communities that plan for access make a different choice. They recognize that participation in civic life is not a privilege reserved for those who can climb stairs, fit into narrow aisles, or advocate loudly for themselves. It is a shared responsibility. Leadership is not defined by how well a community preserves convenience or tradition, but by whether it makes room for people who have too often been pushed aside or left unheard.
Why Disabled People Are Still Shut Out of Leadership – Jan Mariet’s A Day in the Life
Busting Disabled Parking Myths 
Myth 1: “You don’t look disabled.”
Fact: There is no single “disabled look.” Many disabilities are invisible, fluctuating, or not obvious to strangers. Some conditions, such as lung or heart disease, may not be visible at all but can severely limit how far a person can safely walk.
Disabled parking is an accessibility tool, not a privilege. Trust the system, respect the placard, and let disabled people move through the world without fear of confrontation. Disabled parking exists to reduce harm and increase access, not to invite judgment or interrogation. Most disabled people are already navigating pain, fatigue, and medical uncertainty. The last thing they need is to defend their legitimacy in a parking lot. A little restraint and respect go a long way. 
