Breaking barriers and building inclusion
Trigger warning: Ableism, mental health stigma, and disability discrimination.
During Disability Pride Month, we celebrate disability not as tragedy or inspiration, but as identity, community, and an essential part of human diversity. Yet for many, including myself, disability is still marked by discrimination in workplaces, public spaces, and technology.
I live with bipolar II disorder, and more recently, acquired a physical disability following spinal surgery. These intersecting conditions have exposed me to ableism in ways that are both personal and systemic.
Years ago, a company rescinded a job offer after a preemployment medical exam revealed my psychiatric diagnosis. The doctor required me to disclose my history and obtain a psychiatric “fit to work” clearance, reflecting assumptions about incapacity rather than an assessment of my ability to perform the role. What made this especially painful was that the self-harm marks they flagged were from two decades earlier, when I was a teenager. Despite years of professional experience and proven performance, that chapter of my life was allowed to overshadow my qualifications.
I have also encountered hiring managers who asked how I could possibly “function day to day” with bipolar II disorder, as though my career achievements did not already demonstrate my competence. Such questions reduce psychosocial disabilities to stereotypes and ignore the reality that many of us thrive in demanding roles.
With my physical disability, assumptions take another form. Because I walk with a cane, strangers often rush to help me even when I do not need assistance. While often well-intentioned, these actions can reinforce the idea that disabled people are automatically dependent, diminishing our agency and dignity.
Ableism is also embedded in technology. Blind and low-vision people have reported exclusion from financial apps that require users to “open their eyes” or “blink” for identity verification. Voice recognition systems often fail to accommodate people with speech disabilities, while inaccessible websites and apps deny access to information, education, and employment. Workplace platforms can exclude users through inaccessible design, such as relying solely on color-coded alerts or inaccurate captioning. These barriers often result from disabled people being excluded from design and testing processes.
For women and girls with disabilities, these barriers are compounded by gender discrimination, reflecting the intersecting forms of exclusion recognized under Article 6 of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (UNCRPD). As a woman with both psychosocial and physical disabilities, I have often been held to a higher standard than my male counterparts. Questions about whether I can “handle stress” or “balance responsibilities” often carry undertones of sexism, suggesting women are less capable of leadership or resilience.
Women with disabilities are frequently overlooked for promotions, assumed to be less reliable, or confined to roles that undervalue their skills. We also continue to face barriers to sexual and reproductive health and rights, including inaccessible information, discriminatory attitudes from health-care providers, and assumptions that we are unfit to parent or incapable of making decisions about our own bodies. The intersection of ableism and sexism creates a double bind, where being both disabled and female means fighting harder to be seen, heard, and respected.
These are not minor inconveniences. They are barriers that undermine the rights guaranteed under the UNCRPD. In a world increasingly dependent on digital tools, exclusion from technology means exclusion from society itself.
Disability Pride Month challenges these narratives. It reminds us that disability is not a source of shame but of strength, identity, and community. Disability Pride is not about denying barriers; it is about refusing to let those barriers define our worth. Pride means rejecting stigma, demanding accessibility, and affirming that disabled people deserve equity and respect. It is about recognizing disability as a natural part of human diversity that enriches workplaces, communities, and innovation.
My story is not unique, and that is precisely the problem. By sharing it during Disability Pride Month, I affirm that disability is not something to hide; it is something to honor. Until ableism is dismantled, these barriers will persist. But by naming them, challenging them, and connecting our experiences to collective advocacy, we move closer to a world where disability is not viewed as a limitation to overcome, but as a valued part of human diversity.
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Nadezhda “Nadya” Lazaro Tañola is the training manager of the Philippine Business Coalition for Women Empowerment.
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Women Who Lead is an initiative of PhilWEN.
