What Belonging Demands

Who Gets to Belong? A Reflection on Disability, Inclusion, and System Readiness

William Harkness’s essay is thoughtful, personal, and carefully constructed. It surfaces a reality that many within the disability community have quietly navigated for years: that the principles of inclusion, while widely embraced, often diverge from how inclusion is enacted in everyday environments.

At the heart of his argument—outlined compellingly in The Disability Caste System: Who Gets to Be “Disabled Enough”?—is the observation that different types of disabilities are not met with the same degree of acceptance or accommodation. Disabilities that are more visible, predictable, or familiar—such as mobility impairments—are often acknowledged and supported with greater ease.

Others, particularly those that affect communication, processing, or mental health, tend to generate uncertainty or hesitation. A professional with depression, for example, may find that their need for flexibility is interpreted as inconsistency, while a colleague with a physical impairment may be perceived as more straightforward to support.

The issue is not one of merit or capability, but of how closely someone’s needs align with what systems are already designed to manage. Mr. Harkness calls this phenomenon a “disability caste system,” where proximity to established norms affords greater access and legitimacy.

This dynamic is not always the result of explicit bias. Explicit bias refers to beliefs or decisions that are knowingly prejudiced or discriminatory, where the exclusion of someone is intentional and conscious. What Mr. Harkness describes is often more subtle. In many cases, choices about who to accommodate and how to do so are shaped by practical concerns such as limited resources or the desire for simplicity.

Even when decisions are made with good intentions, the outcome can still lead to exclusion. Individuals who fit easily into current systems are welcomed. Others, whose presence requires adjustments or flexibility, may be left out—not because they are less capable, but because change is perceived as too costly.

The essay gives several clear examples. Oral Deaf professionals, for instance, are often hired or promoted more readily than signing Deaf colleagues. This is not always because they are more qualified, but because they ask less of the system around them. Oral Deaf refers to Deaf individuals who communicate primarily through speech, lip reading, and assistive technology like hearing aids or cochlear implants.

Many oral Deaf individuals are educated in environments where spoken language and lip-reading are emphasized rather than sign language. This is one of several valid communication approaches within the Deaf community. In some workplace settings, spoken communication may be perceived as more compatible with existing structures, based on the assumption that fewer adjustments such as providing interpreters or modifying communication protocols will be needed. As a result, Deaf professionals who primarily use sign language may be unintentionally passed over, despite having comparable or exceptional qualifications.

A similar pattern can be seen in hiring initiatives aimed at neurodivergent candidates, particularly those on the autism spectrum. The term neurodivergent refers to individuals whose brains process information, learn, or communicate in ways that differ from what is considered typical. This includes autism, ADHD, dyslexia, and other variations that influence how individuals engage with their surroundings. These hiring programs often highlight strengths such as focus, technical ability, and reliability, which tend to align closely with conventional workplace expectations.

Candidates who communicate in expected ways or fit neatly into structured environments tend to progress more easily. Others, who may use alternative communication methods, work in non-linear ways, or challenge long-standing cultural habits, are often screened out early. These decisions are usually presented as matters of fit or readiness. In practice, they reveal a discomfort with needs that require deeper structural flexibility or cultural shift.

Over time, these patterns shape not only who gets hired, but also who becomes visible in leadership, who is seen as a role model, and whose needs are considered legitimate. Mr. Harkness describes this as lateral ableism. It is a kind of internal sorting that happens within disability communities as well as outside them. It often favors those who appear easiest to accommodate, while placing heavier burdens on others to prove their worth or suppress their needs.

Mr. Harkness does not suggest that inclusion efforts are without value. His message is that inclusion should not be defined by convenience. When systems choose to accommodate only those who ask the least of them, they are not advancing equity. They are preserving comfort. Real inclusion is not always simple. It may involve discomfort, adjustments, or slower timelines. It may require people to reexamine habits or question assumptions. These are not failures. They are signs of growth.

The process of becoming more inclusive does not require dramatic change all at once. Often it begins with small but important questions. Who is consistently supported in this environment? Who is quietly struggling? Which needs are met quickly, and which are put off or explained away? These questions do not assign blame. They open the door to greater awareness.

For those in leadership, this reflection can help identify where systems fall short. For those navigating exclusion, the words in this essay may offer clarity and recognition. For those working to build better structures, the message is simple. Inclusion is not measured by how easily someone fits into what already exists. It is measured by how far a system is willing to stretch to include those who do not.

This kind of work is not always visible. It does not always reward speed or certainty. It moves more like water—steady, deliberate, reshaping what it touches. Over time, it finds the places that have gone ignored and brings them back into view. There is dignity in that approach. There is meaning in choosing presence over performance, awareness over ease. And there is quiet power in every decision that says: belonging should not depend on being simple to accommodate.

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