Billion Strong

Empowering people with disabilities and changing the world so that it's more inclusive and accessible is a huge undertaking. We need your help. Please donate today at https://lnkd.in/g4jXV9Tm. #pwd #crowdfunding LaMondre Pough

Just in case, we forget, sharing the 2024 USAID Disability Policy: Nothing Without Us. Let’s keep this important document alive. In solidarity #WeAreBillionStrong #HumanInclusion #SDGs #BillionStrong #LifeUSA

Why is survival treated like a luxury for disabled people and unpaid carers? Why do we have to jump through endless hoops, fill out mountains of paperwork, and prove—again and again—that we deserve basic support? Why is dignity something we have to beg for? If you break your leg, you don’t have to argue for a cast. If your house catches fire, you don’t have to justify calling the fire department. But if you're disabled or caring for someone who is, every bit of support is a battle. Services are slashed, benefits are denied, and the people making these decisions have never lived a day in our reality. They talk about "efficiency" and "budget constraints" as if they’re discussing spreadsheets, not human lives. And here’s the part that stings: society runs on unpaid carers. It relies on disabled people pushing through exhaustion, on caregivers sacrificing their own health, on people filling in the gaps where governments refuse to step up. And yet, when we ask for help, we’re met with suspicion, bureaucracy, and outright neglect. The question isn’t why we’re fighting. The question is: why do we have to? #WeAreBillionStrong #HumanInclusion #SDGs #AXSChat #a11y #DisabilityInclusion #Diversity #Equity #DisabilityRights ID: Quote- "Why is survival a battle for disabled people and unpaid carers? We don’t ask for luxury—we ask for dignity. Yet every service, every bit of support, comes with a fight. The system isn’t broken. It was built this way—to exhaust us into silence. But we’re still here. And we’re not done."

Let’s clear something up—having a good day doesn’t mean I’m “cured” or suddenly capable of taking on the world. Whether you live with a chronic illness, are neurodivergent like me, or deal with any hidden condition, we’ve all heard it: “Oh, you seem fine today! Back to normal, right?” It’s exhausting. Take me, for example. I’m neurodivergent, which means I deal with sensory overload. Ever been in a room where the lights are so bright it feels like they’re burning through your skull? Or the noise is so overwhelming it’s like the walls are closing in? That’s my reality. But here’s the thing—because people don’t see my challenges, they assume they don’t exist. One good day, when I’ve managed to dress up, and actually function in public, doesn’t erase the weeks of struggling to get through everyday tasks. But in those moments, I see it in people’s eyes: “If you’re okay today, why can’t you be okay tomorrow?” It’s like they’ve never heard of recovery. Think about it—what if, after one or two “good days,” you were suddenly expected to work full-time again? Or take on more responsibilities because, clearly, you're fine now, right? It's like running a marathon when you’ve only trained for a 5K and then being asked to run another the next day. You’re exhausted, but nobody cares because you “looked good” when they saw you. The reality? Every good day has a price—the exhaustion that follows. You go out, you socialize, maybe even enjoy yourself, and then spend the next day (or week) drained, recovering from that effort. But that part? It’s invisible to everyone else. So, let me be blunt: don’t use our good days against us. Chronic illness, neurodivergence, disability—these are marathon challenges, not sprints. If you don’t live it, don’t assume you understand it. ID: A tweet from @coffeespoonie reads: "As a person with a chronic illness, I am constantly worried about people using my good days against me." The tweet reflects the concern many people with chronic illnesses face, where their occasional good days are misunderstood as being fully "recovered," leading to unrealistic expectations and judgment from others. The user’s profile picture shows someone holding a cup of coffee.

Disabled people aren’t excluded by accident. We’ve been pushed aside, silenced, and forced into isolation by a world that was never built with us in mind. The barriers we face aren’t just unfortunate oversights; they are systemic choices. Choices that keep us locked out of workplaces, schools, healthcare, and public spaces. Choices that strip us of autonomy and dignity while the world expects us to smile through it. And yet, when we demand change, people act surprised. They call us “angry” as if we should be grateful for scraps of access. The reality? We’re not asking for favors. We’re demanding what should have been there in the first place—basic, equal access to the same opportunities as everyone else. The problem isn’t our needs; the problem is society’s refusal to meet them. Our needs aren’t “special.” They are human. But here’s the kicker—disability isn’t some distant thing that happens to “other people.” It’s life. It’s illness, injury, aging, or sheer bad luck. It’s something most people will experience in their lifetime, yet they continue to ignore the fight for accessibility as if they’re immune. News flash: You’re not. The world you help create now is the world you will have to live in later. So, will you fight for a future where access and dignity are rights, not privileges? Or will you wait until it’s your turn to realize how broken the system is? #HumanInclusion #SDGs #WeAreBillionStrong #SDGs #BillionStrong #PeopleOfDetermination #LifeUSA #AXSChat #DisabilityConfident Image Credit: David Hayward ID: A closed door with a sign that reads, "We Welcome Short People." Several figures can be seen peeking over the top of the door from inside. Outside, a person is attempting to reach the door handle, standing on the backs of two other individuals who are on all fours, supporting them. The image humorously, yet powerfully, symbolizes the barriers that people with disabilities or physical differences face. It conveys how access is theoretically "welcomed," but only with extraordinary, often degrading effort, reflecting inaccessibility and ableism.

Imagine waking up every day knowing that no matter how hard you try, your body has limits it won’t negotiate with. Not because you’re lazy. Not because you don’t want to work. But because pushing too far could mean days, weeks, or even months of recovery. And yet, society still paints disabled and chronically ill people as burdens, as if survival itself is some kind of moral failing. People don’t rely on disability benefits because it’s an easy path. It’s not. It’s humiliating, exhausting, and riddled with endless paperwork, skepticism, and arbitrary hoops to jump through. Every application feels like begging, every assessment feels like an interrogation, and even if you "prove" your suffering, the system is designed to deny, delay, and dismiss. And for those who want to work? The barriers aren’t just physical, they’re systemic. Many employers see disabled people as risks, not assets. Accommodations are treated as favors, not rights. The workplace wasn’t built with us in mind, and yet we’re blamed when we struggle to fit into a mold that was never meant for us. The truth is simple: disabled people don’t choose this. But society does choose how it treats us. Will it keep punishing us for existing, or will it start dismantling the barriers that hold us back? #WeAreBillionStrong #AXSChat #SDGs #Equity #DisabilityInclusion #Neurodiversity #ChronicallyIll #ChronicIllness ID: A digital graphic with a yellow background featuring small white speckles. Bold, uppercase purple text with a slight 3D effect reads: "STOP DEMONISING CHRONICALLY ILL PEOPLE." A purple underline is drawn beneath the text. At the top of the image, in smaller purple text, is the Instagram handle "@charliclement_".

Neurodivergence isn’t a checklist. It’s not a single, predictable experience. It’s messy, nuanced, personal. No two autistic people experience sensory overload the same way. No two ADHD brains work in identical patterns. No two dyslexic minds process words in exactly the same way. And yet, we’re constantly made to feel like if our experience doesn’t fit the standard narrative, it must not be real. Maybe you don’t stim like the next autistic person. Maybe your ADHD isn’t hyperactive but instead leaves you staring at walls for hours, lost in thought. Maybe your dyslexia doesn’t just jumble letters, but makes reading a physical exhaustion. That doesn’t make your experience less valid. It just makes it yours. And the world doesn’t get to tell you how you should be experiencing your own brain. Too often, even within neurodivergent spaces, people feel the pressure to fit a mold—to prove they’re “neurodivergent enough.” But the truth is, the spectrum is vast, and lived experience is what matters. If something feels real to you, then it is real. You don’t need a perfect label. You don’t need to match someone else’s symptoms. You just need to exist as you are. And that is enough. So tell me—have you ever felt like your neurodivergence doesn’t quite fit the standard narrative? How has that shaped your understanding of yourself? #WeAreBillionStrong #AXSChat #DisabilityInclusion #SDGs #Neurodivergent #Autism #Dyslexia #Dyspraxia #Equity #Inclusion ID: Quote- "Neurodivergence isn’t a script you have to follow. Your experience is real, even if it doesn’t look like anyone else’s. You don’t have to fit a mold to belong. You exist, and that’s enough."

Technology isn’t some passive force—it’s built by people, shaped by choices. And every choice either opens a door or slams one shut. Yet, AI and tech continue to leave millions in the dark. Not because we lack the skill to make it accessible, but because those designing it assume a narrow “default” user. One who moves, sees, hears, and thinks in a way that fits their mold. But the world doesn’t run on a single setting. Humanity is diverse—different bodies, different minds, different needs. If tech doesn’t reflect that, it’s not progress—it’s exclusion, packaged as innovation. A tool that only works for some isn’t a breakthrough; it’s a barrier. Inclusion isn’t complicated. A child learning to communicate, an elder navigating a digital world, a blind person reading an AI-generated text, a non-speaking autistic person using an app—technology should serve them all. Not as an afterthought. Not as an add-on. But as a core principle. The problem isn’t how to make AI accessible. The problem is that we keep asking, instead of demanding it as a standard. Because tech that ignores human diversity doesn’t just fail disabled people—it fails all of us. #WeAreBillionStrong #AXSChat #Disability #Inclusion ID: Quote: "If your tech only works for some, it’s not innovation—it’s exclusion with a fancy logo. True progress serves every body, every mind, every need. Accessibility isn’t a feature. It’s the foundation. #HumanInclusion"

Imagine being asked to bake a cake, but you’re not given all the ingredients. Or being handed a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing. Frustrating, right? You’re set up to fail before you’ve even started. That’s exactly what it feels like for disabled people when the right accommodations are denied. Accommodations aren’t about giving someone an "advantage" or "special treatment." They’re about leveling the playing field so that everyone gets the chance to succeed. When a person with dyslexia gets extra time to read, or when someone with sensory processing issues has access to quiet spaces, it’s not a bonus—it’s the missing piece they need to thrive. Accommodations like extra time, clear instructions, or a quiet space aren’t “special treatment.” They’re the difference between drowning and swimming. They’re the tools needed to realize their potential, not their struggles. I’ve seen the power of a single adjustment. They’re what happens when we meet students where they are. Accommodations don’t just help the person who needs them—they ripple outward. A more inclusive classroom lifts every student. A more accessible workplace inspires better productivity for all. It’s not about doing "extra"; it’s about doing what’s right. So why is it so hard to hand over the missing pieces? Why do we keep expecting people to complete impossible puzzles and then blame them when they fall short? What’s one piece of the puzzle you think society keeps forgetting to provide? Let’s figure it out together. ID: Allowing a disabled person to struggle unnecessarily when all they need are reasonable accommodations and understanding is no different than asking someone to solve a puzzle without giving them all the pieces. #AXSChat #WeAreBillionStrong #a11y #Accessibility

Disability isn’t some distant reality that happens to “other people.” It’s life—unpredictable, impartial. One accident, one illness, one moment—anyone can become disabled. No one is immune. Yet, we’ve built a world that treats disabled people as burdens, as afterthoughts, as if their existence is an inconvenience. Why do we make survival so grueling? Why is every request for basic dignity met with resistance, skepticism, or outright denial? We don’t ask a drowning person to prove they’re drowning before throwing a life raft. But when disabled people need support, they’re forced to prove their suffering—again and again—just to access the bare minimum. Ableism convinces society that disabled people are the problem, not the barriers excluding them. It whispers that if we just push harder, mask the pain, we might be “acceptable.” It sells the lie that independence means doing everything alone, rather than having the right support. And worst of all? It makes us believe it, too. We internalize the shame. We exhaust ourselves trying to meet impossible standards. We swallow the guilt of needing help in a world that refuses to give it freely. It took me years to unlearn this. To realize that resting isn’t weakness. That needing support isn’t failure. That my worth isn’t measured by how much I can endure in silence. Disabled people fight battles daily that most never even think about. The energy it takes to simply exist is monumental. No one should have to choose between food and medication. No one should lose life-sustaining benefits for getting married. And when support finally comes, it’s laced with conditions. Gratitude is expected. Compliance is mandatory. Because in a system that devalues disabled lives, help comes with strings attached. Need financial aid? Prove you're “disabled enough.” Need accommodations? Convince someone your struggle is real. Seeking safety? Hope you can afford it. This isn’t just unfair. It’s cruelty dressed up as bureaucracy. And it’s preventable. We could choose to fund proper social care. We could prioritize accessibility. We could build a society that ensures no one is trapped in abusive relationships, isolated, or left to navigate a world designed without them in mind. We could acknowledge that disabled people deserve autonomy, dignity, and safety—not as a luxury, but as a right. Disability isn’t a club you opt into, but most of us will join eventually. When that day comes, will you be okay with the world you helped create? Or will you wish you had fought for better? You are not the problem. You didn’t ask for this. You don’t deserve to suffer. You’re fighting a system never built for you, and that fight alone is enough. For those who aren’t disabled—yet—don’t wait until it’s personal to care. Fight for accessibility. Push for better policies. Listen to disabled voices. Offer support without strings. Because one day, it won’t be them. It will be you. #WeAreBillionStrong #AXSChat #Disability #Accessibility