Accommodations Don’t Create Weakness. They Remove Barriers

I asked, they listened, I received the accommodation… and it still didn’t magically erase my cerebral palsy.

That has been a common theme throughout my life. People often assume accommodations are some kind of special treatment or unfair advantage, when in reality they are simply tools that help level the playing field so someone like me has the same opportunity to succeed.

One of the biggest lessons I learned came after a serious injury during my high school golf regionals. Before that injury, I insisted on carrying my own golf bag just like every other player. At the time, I convinced myself it was about proving I could do it. That if everyone else was walking the course carrying their clubs, then I should too.

But looking back now, it wasn’t strength pushing me to do that.
It was pride.

I was so focused on making sure nobody viewed me differently that common sense completely took a backseat. I thought asking for help or using accommodations somehow meant I was giving in to my cerebral palsy instead of adapting to it.

So I kept carrying the bag.
I kept overexerting myself.
I kept trying to prove I belonged.

Until eventually, my body reminded me that pretending barriers don’t exist does not make them disappear.

After my injury, I finally had to let go of the emotional baggage I had been carrying long before the golf bag itself. I started using a golf cart during matches, with my clubs strapped to the back.

And the reactions?
The stares.
The whispers.
The occasional comments about how I had an “advantage.”

But what many people failed to understand was this:

The golf cart was never giving me an unfair advantage. It was helping reduce the disadvantage my body already carried every single day.

Cerebral palsy made walking long distances on uneven courses physically exhausting before I even stepped up to hit the ball. By the time many players were simply warming up, my muscles were already fighting to keep up. The cart did not suddenly make golf easy for me. It simply allowed me to preserve enough physical energy to compete closer to the same level as everyone else.

Accessibility has never been about giving people shortcuts.
It has always been about removing unnecessary barriers.

And that is the part so many people misunderstand.

We often think accessibility begins and ends with providing the accommodation itself. But true accessibility also requires conversation, understanding, and the willingness to listen beyond assumptions.

Because sometimes the biggest barrier is not the disability.
It’s the silence created when people assume needs have already been met.

A simple conversation —
“What would help you succeed?”
“Is this working for you?”
“What barriers still exist?”

— can be the difference between empowering someone to use their voice or unintentionally quieting it altogether.

So many individuals with disabilities spend years minimizing their struggles just to avoid appearing difficult, needy, weak, or “different.” I know I did. I convinced myself that carrying the bag made me stronger, when in reality it was slowly wearing me down physically and mentally.

And that happens far beyond golf courses.

It happens in workplaces.
In schools.
In friendships.
In everyday life.

Breaking barriers is the second step toward creating a more inclusive workplace and world. The first is shifting our attitude and assumptions around what accessibility actually means.

When we create environments where people feel safe enough to speak honestly about what they need without fear of judgment, shame, or resentment, we don’t just accommodate them better — we allow them to fully participate.

That is how barriers are truly broken.

Not through pity.
Not through assumptions.
But through listening, adapting, and understanding that accessibility is not about giving someone an easier path.

It is about finally giving them an equal opportunity to walk it.