Leadership in accessibility isn’t about getting it right the first time. It’s about what you do the moment you realize you got it wrong.
As National Deaf Awareness Month 2026 comes to a close, I want to share a story that still humbles me — one about a well-intentioned decision that backfired, and the unexpected gift that came from it.
Years ago, I organized the Chicago Digital Accessibility & Inclusive Design meetup. Every month, we gathered to learn from brilliant people in the field. This was early in our journey, before we had live captions at events. Keep that detail in your back pocket; it matters.
After one session, an attendee told me the glare from the overhead lights made it hard to see the presentation screen. I thanked her, took the feedback seriously, and resolved to fix it.
At the next event, I did exactly that. Once the speaker began, I dimmed the lights. Crisp white slides, sharp dark text, problem solved. Or so I thought.
When the lights came back up, a longtime attendee approached me. He was deaf. With the room dark, he could no longer read the speaker’s lips. The very fix meant to remove one barrier had quietly built another.
I felt the sting of that mistake immediately. But underneath the embarrassment was something more valuable: clarity.
I thanked him, made sure we never repeated that error, and used it as the push we needed to secure sponsorship for live captioning at every future meetup. And here’s the twist; that attendee didn’t walk away. He became my co-organizer. Turns out I needed his perspective as much as I needed his help.
Two lessons worth carrying with you:
- You will get it wrong. Accessibility isn’t a destination, it’s a practice. The leaders who make progress aren’t the ones who avoid mistakes; they’re the ones who own them, learn fast, and keep moving.
- Fixing one barrier can create another. This isn’t unique to physical spaces, it shows up constantly in digital accessibility too. A solution built for one group can unintentionally exclude someone else. That’s not a reason to freeze. It’s a reason to keep listening.
The gift wasn’t avoiding the mistake. It was what the mistake taught me, and who it brought into the room.