Axe-con is an online event for accessibility provided by Deque. As 2026 has just finished, I’ve realised I’ve had some notes from 2025 that I wanted to publish. It’s only taken a year.
I think this was my absolute favourite talk from 2025 by Eric Bailey that I still think about a lot to this day. Mainly because, for the first time, I felt like my experiences in this space were not only unique, but also that I finally had the language and keywords that I didn’t have prior to this talk.
“Your job will generate trauma.”
I’d never considered that what I was experiencing was trauma - that I was operating in a system that was causing trauma. Sure, I realised it was really bad, even toxic; it was way way worse than when I was working on Frontend and my job was focused on driving profit or conversion metrics, but trauma?
I even wrote about 20 uncomfortable messages I’d tell my younger self about working in this system in 2024, and still this didn’t click.
Why would it? Trauma felt like way too big a word; I associated work-related trauma with that of a paramedic, a content moderator, or the police. Is it the same trauma that I experience? I almost didn’t feel like my experiences were “worthy” enough to ever consider this label. Is this big enough?
However, as this talk went on, a very compelling case was made. I realised, this is exactly what I’m experiencing. I realised I’d been drastically minimising the harm of the environment that I was operating in. Weaponised professionalism, organised abandonment, moral injury, and institutional betrayal - these were all terms I’d never heard of.
“We are not doing OK”
“It’s not the actual work we do. It’s the environment that we’re forced to do the work in that’s the problem.” - Shell Little
“We’re doing the work that, in any other field, regulators would be seeing to. We do it with none of the authority. So we also end up having to be social workers, professional advocates, educators, and so many other things.” - Jan Maarten
Weaponised professionalism
Definition: When the standards of “professionalism” are used to silence or discredit those raising uncomfortable truths.
In accessibility work, this shows up when someone points out barriers, exclusions, or bias, and is told their tone is too “emotional”, too “confrontational”, or “not constructive”. The call for professionalism becomes a shield to maintain comfort for the majority, rather than to create inclusion.
It’s under the umbrella of respectability politics. Often, it’s not the message that’s the problem; it’s that the message makes people uncomfortable. Accessibility advocates are expected to be endlessly patient, polite, and grateful for slow progress, even when they’re fighting for basic equity.
I saw a post by Chris White recently that really put this impact into words.
Politeness is not a strategy
“That was one of the messages I wanted to leave with people at the IAAP seminar in Dublin in February, and it has stayed with me ever since.
In disability advocacy, we are often expected to be grateful for interest, patient with delay, and careful not to make others uncomfortable. We are encouraged to welcome warm words, good intentions, and sympathetic nods as though they are progress in themselves.
They are not.
Real progress does not come from sounding supportive. It comes from changing systems, removing barriers, and shifting power.
Too often, disabled people are still asked to adapt to a world that was not designed with them in mind. Too often, accessibility is framed as a special request rather than a basic expectation. Too often, inclusion is treated as an aspiration for the future instead of a responsibility in the present.
That is why disability advocacy matters. It is not about asking more politely. It is about being clear, persistent, and unapologetic about the right to participate fully in society.
It means challenging inaccessible transport, inaccessible services, inaccessible workplaces, and inaccessible attitudes. It means recognising that the barriers disabled people face are not inevitable. They are created, and anything created can be changed.
At Vision Ireland, we see this every day. When people have the right support, the right design, and the right opportunities, potential is unlocked. Confidence grows. Independence grows. Society benefits.
The challenge for all of us is to move beyond admiration for the idea of inclusion and into the hard work of delivery. That means leadership. It means investment. It means accountability. It means listening to disabled people not as an afterthought, but as experts in the reality of exclusion and the design of better solutions.
Politeness has its place. Respect matters. Partnership matters.
But politeness on its own will not build an inclusive Ireland.
Action will.
Too often, disabled people are treated as though raising a barrier is itself the disruption, rather than the barrier being the real problem.
That is one of the most damaging aspects of poor inclusion. People are not only expected to navigate unnecessary obstacles, they are then made to feel difficult, ungrateful, or demanding for asking for the most basic adjustments that would allow them to participate on equal terms.
It creates a culture where silence is rewarded and self-advocacy is punished. Many people end up choosing between speaking up and being labelled a problem, or staying quiet and being excluded. That is not inclusion.
That is compliance theatre.
Adjustments are not favours. They are not special treatment. They are often the minimum required for dignity, independence, and fairness. Whether it is accessible information, flexible working, proper signage, assistive technology, or physical access, these are practical measures that remove barriers created by systems, environments, and attitudes.
The real issue is not that disabled people ask for change.
The issue is that so many organisations still build services, workplaces, and public spaces as though disabled people are an afterthought.”
Organised abandonment
Definition: A term coined by scholar Ruth Wilson Gilmore, describing how institutions withdraw care, support, or responsibility - leaving individuals to absorb the cost of systemic neglect.
In accessibility work, this can look like companies celebrating disability inclusion once a year, but leaving disabled employees to navigate inaccessible tools, systems, and processes the other 364 days. Having only one “unicorn” expected to do everything. Having zero protections.
In my case, I remember reaching out to people in a company championing accessibility in 2023 and ‘24 that was silent in 2025. I wonder why. I ended up running GAAD (Global Accessibility Awareness Day) internally completely alone. Even people that outwardly spoke about supporting accessibility were silent when it came to “stand on business” and step up to do the real work. Silence. It was isolating, which I realised is part of this.
It’s passing a “full-stack” interview process but having to educate that same Developer about HTML. Its providing colour contrast training to a Director of UI Design.
It can also look like an organisation refusing to have a reasonable adjustment process. Failing to have any type of accessible culture. Meetings with agendas? Nope. Meetings with notes taken? Meh. Tickets with all actions and comments written down? Can’t be bothered. Video meeting software with captions? We don’t need that. Images posted in TEAMS or Slack with no alt text? We don’t care.
It’s a role focused on disabilities failing to offer remote-first options. It’s when accessibility becomes “someone else’s passion project” rather than everyone’s shared responsibility.
The organisation quietly steps back, not through direct opposition, but through inaction, underfunding, and avoidance. The result? Advocates and disabled staff carry the emotional, practical, and professional load alone.
Moral injury
Definition: The psychological harm that comes from being forced to act (or stay silent) in ways that betray one’s own values or sense of justice.
For accessibility practitioners, this might mean being told to deprioritise accessibility “for now”, to launch an inaccessible product, or to ignore feedback that could prevent exclusion, all because “there’s no time or budget” despite record profits in the billions. It’s having to stay silent when a very clear, simple WCAG fail has to ship.
Moral injury happens when you know what the right thing is (testing with disabled people), but you are systemically prevented from doing it. You’re forced to “guess” on behalf of a wider community, knowing that your “guess” might actually create a barrier for someone else.
Over time, these moments chip away at a person’s sense of purpose. You know what’s right, but you’re asked to compromise it, again and again. That internal conflict can be exhausting, demoralising, and deeply isolating.
Moral injury is what happens when inclusion work meets systemic indifference.
Institutional betrayal
Definition: When an organisation you trust to uphold its values fails to protect or support you - especially when it claims to stand for inclusion and equity.
In accessibility work, this can happen when a company publicly champions accessibility via marketing but privately neglects the work entirely. It’s when leaders celebrate “inclusion” on social media while cutting accessibility budgets, or when an employee who raises legitimate barriers is quietly sidelined.
Institutional betrayal stings because it comes from the very systems that say they care. It breaks trust not just with individuals, but with the whole idea of inclusion itself. Simple performative allyship.
We’ve never seen this brought into more focus recently than with Big Tech that abandoned equality goals at the earliest convenience. Did they back it with money when it actually mattered? Nope. This is a system. These experiences are part of these invisible systems.
One of the best descriptions I’ve heard about ableism is that it’s like radioactivity. The longer you’re exposed to it, the more it destroys you from the inside out. It feels like some company environments are more radioactive than others; you can feel it - you can’t quite work out where it’s coming from, but you can feel it.
“Every single one was in burnout or burnout recovery, or was actively avoiding burnout using skills they learned from previous bouts of work burnout.” - Devon Persing
Is the trauma worth it?
Most resources on workplace trauma recommend employees build up their personal resilience or their ability to “bounce back.” Doing so not only shifts the burden of healing to individual employees but also hides how organisational responses can be traumatic - even those meant to help employees.
What next?
Hypervigilance, hyper-independence, and withdrawal are all new concepts to learn about and understand how to recover from. Facing organisational trauma of this nature is not easy to treat. Maybe the accessibility journey is to know when to step back to heal from this.