As you know, I love storytelling, so let's start with Maya's story:
Maya had always been captivated by the city - the hum of traffic, the melodies of street performers, and the scent of roasted coffee wafting from corner cafés. Even after losing most of her sight to retinitis pigmentosa, she navigated the world with her cane and fierce determination. She didn't want pity; she wanted freedom.
Her office building was a monolith of glass and concrete in the heart of downtown. A place designed to impress, but not to welcome. The lobby was a shimmering maze of marble floors, sleek decorative planters, and polished walls that echoed footsteps like a concert hall. For Maya, it was a minefield.
Each day, she braved the gauntlet, counting her steps from the revolving door to the reception desk, careful not to trip over the strategically placed but functionally useless benches. Her cane tapped cautiously, searching for hazards in a space designed with aesthetics, not accessibility, in mind.
"Hey, Maya!" a voice called out. It was Claire, a chatty colleague who always walked at lightning speed. "Want me to walk you to the elevator?"
"No thanks, I've got it," Maya replied, forcing a smile. She appreciated Claire's kindness, but accepting constant help felt like to her like admitting defeat.
Her confidence wavered when her cane caught the edge of a decorative planter she hadn't encountered before. She stumbled, heart racing as she steadied herself. A security guard nearby rushed over.
"Are you okay, ma'am?"
"I'm fine," Maya said tightly, cheeks burning. She hated these moments and the public spectacle of her struggle in a world that refused to meet her halfway. Despite the insignificance of her mistake, she felt the sting of embarrassment and humiliation.
Later that afternoon, she sat in a meeting with the building's design team. They were unveiling plans for a "new, inclusive space." Maya listened as they proudly described textured pathways that would guide visually impaired people from the entrance to key areas.
"That's very thoughtful," a colleague commented.
Maya's jaw clenched. Thoughtful? Maybe. But wrong.
"Can I say something?" she interjected, her voice steady but firm.
"Of course," the lead architect said.
"Why do you assume I need a special path? What if the whole space was just designed to be navigable for everyone - clear lines, logical layouts, and no unnecessary obstacles? I don't want a separate track. I want the same experience as anyone else."
The room fell silent. Someone shifted uncomfortably.
"That's... an interesting perspective," the architect finally said.
"It's not just interesting," Maya pressed. "It's necessary. Accessibility isn’t about adding things to accommodate me - it's about removing the barriers that shouldn't be there in the first place."
Weeks later, Maya walked into the lobby, guided not by her cane alone but by the thoughtful simplicity of the redesign. The decorative planters had been moved to logical perimeters. Pathways were open and intuitive, free of tripping hazards. There was no "special path" - just a space that respected every person's right to move freely.
As Maya stepped confidently toward the elevator, she felt a quiet triumph. The world hadn't just made room for her; it had finally cleared the path.
And that made all the difference.
***
When it comes to professional learning and development, too many organizations try to provide special accommodations for accessibility that are, well, just wrong.
I don’t particularly believe in "accommodating" measures for accessibility, because that's like giving someone a crutch, and then sending them off to play football with the rest of the team. No, not good enough! Your visually impaired learners are forced to accept some less-than-ideal solution to just get through it;
I believe that the question of accessibility should really be taken off the table – as in, creating a completely level and equal playing field.
At ProDio, we believe eliminating barriers for blind and visually impaired learners to be an area where we have great potential. In terms of audio-only learning, this means that all learners receive the same experience.
With StoryStyle™ Audio Learning they’re able to enjoy exactly the same rich and imaginative learning experience as sighted learners, with no loss of quality in that experience.
To me, that’s hugely important.
ProDio Audio Learning Inc. is actively seeking collaboration and partnerships with organizations who can help us to improve our accessibility and create StoryStyle™ Audio Learning for inclusive learning communities where this is most needed.
If this is of interest to you, please contact me at russell@prodiolearning.com
Comments