Considering the real world impact of thinking about inclusion too late.
Asking is not the same as listening: What inclusive planning really takes
Organisations love talking about inclusion. They say the right words – accessibility, fairness, adjustments – and mean them, mostly. But good intentions alone don’t create access.
Asking about access needs is only the start
These days, it’s common to ask people if they have any accessibility requirements. On the surface, this looks like good practice. It signals awareness and an openness to accommodate different needs.
But when you ask, and what you do with that information, really matters.
If you ask the question after key decisions have been made – venue booked, platform chosen, agenda fixed – all you’re really doing is creating a gap between expectation and reality. You’re inviting someone to disclose a need you probably can’t meet.
And disabled people know this. When we see the question, we think:
Are you actually asking, or is this just a formality?
An uncomfortable truth
An event or process doesn’t stop being exclusionary because you’re squeamish about naming the exclusion out loud. Access needs don’t pause when they’re inconvenient. And when they can’t be met – or worse, haven’t been thought about at all – there’s always a human impact.
That impact is not abstract or theoretical – it is felt by real people in real ways.
This is why clarity and honesty matter so much to disabled people – not because it magically eliminates the barriers, but because it acknowledges where they exist and who they will affect.
Most teams work with tight budgets, imperfect tools, and not enough time. Acknowledging that isn’t failure. It’s honest and necessary.
But there’s a big difference between:
We cannot accommodate everything, so here’s what’s possible and what isn’t,
and
Let’s ask people what they need and see what happens.
The second one shifts risk onto disabled people. We’re the ones who have to spend the emotional energy to explain, justify, and then wait – often for radio silence in return.
Sometimes the more inclusive option is just to say:
This is what we can support. This is what we can’t. Here are the reasons why.
Clarity builds trust. Ambiguity wears people down.
The impact of being asked, but not listened to
Explaining your access needs is not a neutral task.
It takes time, emotional energy, and a certain amount of vulnerability. When that’s met with silence, a last‑minute “we’ll let you know”, or a vague answer – it’s demoralising.
Do that enough times, and “inclusion” starts to feel like a box‑tick. Not a genuine attempt to let people participate equally.
That cumulative damage matters, even if no single failure seems huge on its own. It’s the “death by a thousand cuts” factor that marginalised people live with every day.
Certainty is part of accessibility
One thing people don’t talk about enough is predictability.
If you’re managing an impairment, fatigue, chronic illness, anxiety, or even caring responsibilities, you need to be able to plan in advance. Adjustments that are confirmed late, or not at all, don’t function as adjustments – There’s nothing solid to work with.
Inclusive planning isn’t just about what you offer. It’s about when and how clearly you communicate it.
What actually helps
None of this requires perfection or unlimited resources. But small changes make a real difference:
- Think about accessibility from the start – alongside budget, venue, and agenda – not as an afterthought
- Be honest about any limitations before asking people to disclose their needs
- Tell people when they’ll hear back, and respond on time
- Build hybrid options in from the beginning, not as a last‑minute fix
- Treat accessibility as a measure of overall quality, not separately or as an add‑on
These aren’t big asks. But they shift inclusion from reactive to intentional. That can have a big impact.
Why this matters
The way you design your internal processes reflects what you actually value.
Inclusive planning isn’t about getting it perfect first time. It’s about making thoughtful decisions early, being honest about limitations, and taking responsibility for the impact – rather than asking disabled people over and over to explain, justify, or negotiate their own inclusion.
Inclusion isn’t a tick‑box exercise. When you plan for it earlier, listen with the intent to act, and do the work upfront – that’s real inclusion.
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