Letters to a young accessibility advocate

I’m using the term ‘young’ here to refer to someone who is ‘new to digital accessibility’ - whether that’s by job title or the way you approach your work - but I’m not throwing shade: we all have transferable skills and your experience is valid. I’ll admit, I actually just liked the little nod to Rainer Maria Rilke’s collection of ‘Letters to a young poet’ and had to shoehorn it in there somehow.

It’s okay if you feel like an imposter, you’re not alone

Nearly everyone I’ve met in this field has expressed feeling like an imposter at some point. Some of the most passionate, considerate, and insightful colleagues I’ve worked with started out convinced they weren’t technical enough, experienced enough, or “the right kind of person” for this work. They couldn’t have been more wrong.

As for me, well anyone who knows me will tell you that I don’t take compliments well. I honestly don’t know what to do with them and will panic and try to quickly divert attention away. So if you tell me, as numerous colleagues have, that you value my contributions and are proud of my accomplishments, I will thank you and quickly see how we can escape from this uncomfortable hellscape we’ve found ourselves in.

I have at times been described by colleagues and friends as very knowledgeable, highly-skilled, and a wise mentor. That’s not a humble brag: it’s absolutely lovely, but reader I don’t feel like that at all. I constantly feel like I don’t know enough, I’m not doing enough, I’m just not quite the finished article people seem to think I am.

You’re looking at someone who studied three short courses in instructional design on top of an in-progress Diploma because they didn’t feel qualified to make the move to higher education - and that was after they’d secured a new role. Heck, the initial reason I signed up for a Masters in HCI beyond genuine curiosity was because I didn’t feel qualified to work in digital accessibility in the first place(!)

You might feel like everyone around you is confident, self assured and so far ahead in terms of their skills. However, you’re doing a disservice to what you already bring to the table: you wouldn’t be thinking about accessibility if you didn’t care about leaving the world better than you found it, and that you’ve spotted that lack of inclusion means you already have transferable skills that make you a good fit for this space.

Also, don’t discount your interpersonal skills: everything you’ve learned about navigating the workplace and influencing people - even if you don’t realise that’s what you’re doing - can really open doors and help people feel safe and seen. I’ve worked with many individuals who felt they weren’t quite there, and yet they turned out to be some of the most thoughtful, curious and skilled colleagues I’ve had the privilege to work with, and I continue to learn so much from them about how to improve my own practice.

The truth is we all have gaps, but we also have our own insecurities. Being the person who sees inequality and decides to act is scary. You can quickly find yourself in a position where others look to you to lead the way. It’s great if seeming confident while doing that gives someone else something to aspire to, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that’s how we feel ourselves. We can be our own worst enemy and you’re not as alone in thinking this way as you might think.

I think digital accessibility also has a reputation of being highly complex and technical. It can be, and it can also be extremely varied - which I absolutely love - but there’s still a large focus on accessibility testing, rather than addressing the root causes in society. If you don’t work in this space, and you happen to see a live accessibility consultant in the wild, you might get the impression that we’re speaking a different language when we talk about standards and implementations. WCAG has historically been pretty impenetrable - ironically, it was not written in a way that is accessible to everyone - but it is improving (and I’m particularly fond of all the illustrated examples it now includes). I think we as professionals need to be mindful of the barriers we create in our own work.

You may think you’re not technical. You may think that you couldn’t possibly do this work without being technical. The thing is, you know more than you think you do. If you’ve spent any time on the internet - and particularly seen how people who are not you use the internet - you have some awareness of where there might be challenges. I always say that, even if you don’t know how to implement it, if you can describe the user experience you would expect someone to have, that’s a really good starting point.

Granted, you may not have the lived experience of someone who is disabled. Or you may actually be disabled - since many of us accessibility professionals have disabilities too you know - but your experience is only with your own needs. Either way, your experience is still valid. We need a much richer, diverse range of experiences than the tech sector currently focuses on.

As for me, I have mental health struggles. I’m comfortable sharing that. However, for the longest time I had real difficulty with the idea that this could ever compare with someone who has ‘real’ access needs. What I’ve found though, is that the same alternatives, accommodations and enhancements that I promote to help others, actually do benefit me too: When I’m stressed, I prefer content that is short, clear and descriptive, and persistent long enough for me to refer back to it. When I’m caught up in my usual negative self-talk, I appreciate instructions and error messages that are reassuring; that remind me that it’s not actually my fault.

The thing I’ve learned is, imposter syndrome can be my compass. It’s the thing that keeps me alert, constantly course correcting towards the next thing that will only strengthen the tools I already have. Imposter syndrome helps me see the gaps in my knowledge and lights the fire under me to fill them. It may appear as if there are people who know everything, but we really don’t.. and that’s okay. There’s always more to learn, about yourself, about each other, and about how we can do this work.

Not everyone here has the same motivations, but that’s okay

You might expect working in accessibility means that everyone you meet will share the same values, the same care, the same sense of urgency as you. We’re building a better world, and there’s no time like the present, so of course we’re all in this together, right? Sometimes that’s the case, but unfortunately, in my experience, it isn't always.

Some of the challenges you will face are systemic: tight deadlines, competing priorities, lack of awareness, or a belief that inclusion is optional, rather than foundational. There are also individuals - even prominent ones - whose public advocacy doesn’t always align with how they treat others behind the scenes. They might do a lot of much needed good in their own way, but their behaviour also causes real harm.

What matters is how you personally approach these challenges. You can hold yourself to a different standard. You can centre care, compassion, curiosity and humility, even when the environment around you makes that difficult. It will be difficult at times, and you won’t always get it right, but it’s worth it.

Remember that our work is intersectional: true digital inclusion is more than just ticking off a WCAG audit. It’s not a role you forget about at the end of the work day. I truly believe that in order to do this work, and do it well, we need to live and breathe a set of shared values - mutual respect, dignity, safety, justice, equity and diversity - in everything we do, personally and professionally.

To be clear, I’m not suggesting perfection, but we should strive for continuous improvement. Yes, we cannot possibly always consider every need by ourselves - we don’t know what we don’t know - nor see the outcome of our own influence, intentional or not, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t continually try to do the best we can, listen to each other, and surround ourselves with people who hold us to a higher standard.

We are representatives as much as we are facilitators. Those of us who have privilege need to be constantly thinking of ways to improve ourselves and enable even more people to share their voices, but we also need to be holding a mirror up to ourselves and deciding if we’re actually comfortable with the values we’re perpetuating. If you can come away confident that you acted in good faith and did the best you could, that’s a good start.

The good news is you will meet and work with people who are truly lovely and will reaffirm your faith in humanity. These are the people who are thoughtful, curious, honest and vulnerable. They’re not afraid to admit when they’re wrong, they share what they’re learning openly, and they recognise that even our attempts to do good can unintentionally exclude. They’re not happy with that and always try to remind us and themselves that we must do better.

They’re the people who know that “digital accessibility empowers everyone” applies just as much to their colleagues and their loved ones, as it does to the groups they are trying to empower. They recognise that the people they work with have access needs of their own, even if they don’t advertise it. All of us do. It’s a fundamental part of the human condition.

Ultimately, I hope you bring your own values of compassion and empathy into this space. Respect, empower and recognise your peers. Celebrate their milestones. If there’s no space at the table for the voices you want to hear, make a different damn table. Do your best to do more good than harm, in whatever environment you find yourself in. Above all, be kind. Don’t be a dick.

Be kind to yourself first

I think this work naturally attracts those of us who want to make the world a better place - the problem solvers, the caregivers, the dreamers - and there is so much to do. I mean, just look at the state of it (gestures). It is genuinely a real privilege to be able to do this work.

But it is demanding work. You won’t realise until it’s too late how high the cost is to care so much, yet be able to change so little. You will see inequality everywhere and it will break your heart. You will find your willingness to help taken for granted and often abused.

Just over a year and a half ago I was thinking that I couldn’t work in digital accessibility any more. Everything was going so well: I had moved into the higher education sector, I was excelling at my new role and thoroughly enjoying it, I was working with such lovely people.

Then the bottom fell out. Almost overnight, it felt like there was a lot less colour in the world. My passion, my enthusiasm, the spark that gets me up in the morning.. it was just gone. I still cared about others, I still tried my best to show up, but inside I felt like I just.. couldn’t?

Reader, this is what they call “burnout” and it completely caught me off guard. I’ve found things difficult in the past, but this was on another level. It was also years in the making, rather than being caused by whatever I was doing at the time. Your body and mind remember the struggles you live through and it had finally caught up with me.

It took making crappy art for the first time in years, rediscovering the personal web, really embracing the opportunities that working in the higher education sector affords, and learning from the kindness of my new colleagues (now friends) for me to recharge and feel like I could still have a place here.

You need to do that: find ways to refill your cup. That might not mean a drastic change, but you truly cannot help others until you help yourself first. Find the thing that works for you, ideally away from the work. For me, right now, it’s making crappy animations and building personal websites. I have the best work-life balance I’ve had in years and I feel so creatively fulfilled right now. Spend time in nature, sing in the shower, read widely, snuggle with your furry companions. Above all, be gentle with yourself ❤️

You don’t have to specialise, but it can be helpful

For the longest time I considered myself a Jack of all trades and I was fine with that. My brain craves variety and I love learning for the sake of learning. It feels great to be able to dive into new projects with enough of a toolkit to get started and know where you can offer your skills.

But, for me personally, it diluted my identity. I would see all these other professionals who seemed to have a consistent way in which they showed up. I’m not just talking about a core skillset like document accessibility or user research - I still think there’s value in knowing something about everything - I’m talking about a real sense of purpose. They each had a specific agenda (in a good way) and everything they did served that. I struggled for years to find mine.

We all have the areas of interest we naturally gravitate towards. I love problem solving and digging into how things work. I really love ARIA - though I’d never tell you to actually use it unless you really had to - and I get excited about system architecture. But I’m not a web developer, despite my skills. I enjoy using my technical skills, but I don’t feel like it’s where I can contribute the most value. There are much more experienced people for that.

What I’ve actually realised this year is that the purpose I’ve been circling is helping others help themselves, but in a really specific way. I’ve delivered countless workshops and webinars and I think I’ve done some good. But what actually excites me right now is finding new ways to help people approach these concepts.

Diving into experiential learning really made a big impact on me. I can see how all the skills I’ve been building in instructional design, web development, games design and animation could be used as a means to an end: they could help me build experiences that spark curiosity, encourage reflection and challenge people to put what they’ve learned into practice. That’s my North Star for 2026 and I’m incredibly fortunate to be working in a team that I know will afford me the opportunities to see where that leads.

To be clear, I’m not saying you should specialise for the sake of job roles or climbing the career ladder - you do what seems best for you - I’m saying you need a strong sense of what drives you. Find the thing that excites you about this work. Something more specific and personal to you, beyond just making the world a better place (but if you could find the time to do that too, that’d be great, thanks). I honestly think it will help you find your centre when things are difficult.

Closing thoughts

Inevitably I’ve reached the point where I don’t know how to end this. I will just say that, wherever you are in your career, whatever your current role looks like, you have the ability and the opportunity to make a difference. You don’t have to have a specific job title to be an accessibility professional. You can embed accessibility and inclusion in whatever you do. Even if a small change you make helps just one person, that still makes a massive difference to that person. I’d love to see you bring new ideas and new perspectives to this work. We can all of us benefit from that, and I’m rooting for you.

Thanks for reading. If you’ve somehow formed the misguided impression that I can help you in some way, then do feel free to reach out. If you’re like me and you rarely message people because you think you’ll be bothering them, you can stop that nonsense right now. My door is always open. I’m always happy to chat, help you think out loud, and offer some encouragement, if I can. Take care and happy holidays.