"Accessibility Means Freedom": What We Learned from the First Spicy by Design Panel

“Accessibility, for me, is freedom.”
– Terri, Talks With MS

When we launched the Spicy by Design community, we knew we weren’t interested in surface-level change. We wanted to create real conversations rooted in lived experience — and that meant talking frankly about the state of accessibility, inclusion, and work for neurodivergent and disabled people.

So we started where it matters most: in dialogue. Our first live-streamed panel — Accessible by Design: Rethinking Workplaces for Neurodivergent Inclusion — featured three brilliant community builders: Terr (founder of Talks With MS), Holly (creator of Work from Home Jobs 4 for You), and John (accountant and founder of the soon-to-launch Accounting for Neurodiversity). Together, we unpacked the messy, complicated, emotional truth of what "accessibility" really means today — and what still needs to change.

This wasn’t theory. It was personal. It was real.

We Thought Accessibility Meant Ramps. We Were Wrong.

Many of us grew up thinking accessibility was just physical: wheelchair ramps, lifts, maybe a blue badge.

“I didn’t even take accessibility seriously until I got diagnosed with MS,” Terry admitted. “And even then, I thought it was about toilets and parking. It’s only when you start building something for people with access needs that you see how deep and wide the barriers are.”

Now, our panel defines accessibility far more broadly: emotional safety, visual design, sensory environments, trust, and transparency. It's about being able to show up fully without being forced to mask, over-explain, or shrink yourself.

John, a self-diagnosed autistic father of two neurodivergent children, described how his understanding changed radically:

“I started noticing things like fonts, colours, noise levels, air conditioning. Things that used to seem irrelevant. Suddenly I realised they’re not little — they’re everything.”

We Still Don’t Trust Disabled People to Work — And It’s Costing Us

The UK employment gap between disabled and non-disabled people is widening. As of 2024:

• Only 53.3% of disabled people are in work.

• For autistic people, that number drops to just 29% — despite many being willing and able to work.

• Neurodivergent people still face recruitment processes built to exclude them, from long applications to inaccessible interviews.

Holly, who has epilepsy, recalled being gently shut out of career progression by well-meaning colleagues: “There wasn’t any open discrimination. It was more that they worried about me, and that meant I was quietly left out of things like promotions or team holidays.”

John recalled a junior employee being banned from wearing headphones at work — despite it clearly helping him concentrate. “We lost him. He left. And for what?”

These barriers don’t just harm individuals — they rob workplaces of talent, insight, and innovation.

When We Ask for Adjustments, We’re Still Seen as the Problem

Across sectors, the panel shared a familiar refrain: even the smallest access request often feels like asking for the moon.

Holly, a former teacher, asked to use her planning time at home — away from the overstimulating, chaotic staff room.

“Every year, for seven years, I asked. Every year it was a no. I didn’t understand it. It felt like they didn’t trust me — like I was asking for a favour, not something that would help me do my job better.”

Terry described watching security guards physically lift a wheelchair user into a venue at a major conference — because there was no ramp. “They meant well. But it wasn’t safe, it wasn’t dignified, and it shouldn’t have happened.”

John raised a powerful point about why so many adjustments aren’t made: “Companies aren’t refusing because they’re evil. They’re scared. Scared to get it wrong — so they do nothing. But doing nothing is worse.”

The Burnout of Being “Reasonable”

Another theme emerged: the emotional toll of constantly having to manage not just your access needs — but others’ perceptions of them.

“Sometimes I say I’m in a meeting when I’m actually napping,” Chandy admitted. “Not because I’m lazy — but because I’m exhausted. And I know people won’t get it unless I lie.”

Terry echoed this: “It’s hard to balance your own access needs when you’re trying to support a whole community. You’re juggling invisible needs — yours and everyone else’s.”

And John put it bluntly: “There is no such thing as work-life balance. There’s just… balance. You do what you can, when you can. And that has to be okay.”

So What Now?

The point of Spicy by Design isn’t just to share stories. It’s to spark change. That’s why we ended the panel by asking a simple question:

What small shifts could make workplaces radically more accessible?

Here’s what our panel said:

• Flexible working isn’t a perk. It’s a necessity.
  “If you trusted us to work from home during a pandemic, why not now?”

• Start every onboarding with: ‘What helps you do your best work?’
  “Don’t make people beg for adjustments. Make it normal to ask.”

• Use clear, plain language. Always.
  “Emails. Job descriptions. Interviews. You’re not dumbing it down — you’re opening it up.”

• Ask instead of assume.
  “How do you want to be contacted? What do you need to contribute fully?”

• Trust your people.
  “The number one killer of inclusion is micromanagement disguised as ‘support.’”

It’s Not About Doing Everything. It’s About Doing Something.

If you take one thing from this panel, let it be this: Accessibility is a culture, not a checklist.

It’s not about being perfect. It’s about showing up — messy, curious, ready to learn. And if you're building systems, hiring staff, running events, designing spaces — then the time to start is now.

Because when we make things more accessible for disabled and neurodivergent people, we make them better for everyone.

Want to watch the full conversation?

Catch the replay of Spicy by Design: Episode 1 on our YouTube or Instagram page.
Join us next month for our live panel on navigating PIP (Personal Independence Payment) as a neurodivergent adult in the UK.