I’ve been asked more times than I can count how to talk about disability without saying the wrong thing. Clients ask before we start a project together. People email me before podcast interviews. Even close friends double check before introducing me to someone new. That’s exactly why I put together this disability language guide: not as a rulebook to memorize, but as a way to understand why certain words land the way they do, and why others don’t.
What This Disability Language Guide Says About Person-First and Identity-First Language
Growing up, I faced numerous obstacles in a world not designed for people in wheelchairs, limb differences, and people with disabilities in general. One of the smaller obstacles, but one that stuck with me, was how often adults talked about me instead of to me, using language that made my disability the whole story instead of one part of it.
There are two common approaches to talking about disability, and both are valid depending on who you’re talking to. Person-first language puts the person before the condition, like “person with a disability” instead of “disabled person.” Identity-first language flips that, and plenty of people, including many in the autistic and Deaf communities, prefer it: “disabled person” or “autistic person” as a matter of identity, not something to soften.
Neither is universally correct. The real rule in any disability language guide worth using is simpler than picking a side: when you know someone’s preference, use it. When you don’t, person-first language is a safe and respectful default, and it’s what I lean on in most of my own writing.
Words That Show Respect (and Ones to Retire)
Some phrases have quietly stuck around in everyday conversation long after they stopped being accurate or respectful. “Handicapped” is one. “Wheelchair-bound” is another, and it’s one that makes me want to jump in every time I hear it. I’m not bound to my wheelchair. It’s not a cage. It’s the exact opposite: it’s how I get everywhere I need to go. The same goes for “confined to a wheelchair” and “suffers from,” which frame a device or a condition as a punishment rather than a normal part of someone’s life.
Here’s what I’d use instead: person with a disability, disabled person when that’s someone’s preference, wheelchair user, or person who uses a wheelchair. When you’re talking about physical spaces, “accessible parking,” “accessible entrance,” and “accessible restroom” say exactly what you mean without any extra baggage. Terms like “special needs,” unless you’re referring to an actual named program, or “differently abled,” tend to do more harm than good. They’re often meant kindly, but they end up sounding like a way to avoid saying “disabled” at all, which sends its own message. This section of the disability language guide is usually the one people bookmark, because it’s the part they can put to use immediately.
Skip the Inspiration Framing
This might be the single most useful thing I can put in a disability language guide: please don’t turn ordinary participation into a triumph story. “Despite being in a wheelchair, she attended the event” makes it sound remarkable that a disabled person simply showed up. “She attended the event using accessible seating” says the same thing without the pity underneath it.
I’ve had strangers tell me I’m “so inspiring” for grocery shopping. I’ve had people call me brave for doing my job. Neither of those things are true, and both of them say more about the person talking than about me. The goal of a good disability language guide isn’t to make disabled people sound heroic for existing. It’s to describe access, dignity, and participation accurately, which does most of the work on its own. The American Psychological Association’s disability language guidelines cover this well if you want a deeper resource to sit alongside this one.
Why It’s Worth Getting This Right
None of this is about walking on eggshells. It’s about accuracy. When you use language that respects the person you’re talking about, you’re not just avoiding an awkward moment, you’re building the kind of trust that makes people want to work with you, hire you, or come back to your business. That’s the same thread that runs through The Life-Changing Power of Disability Representation: representation and language aren’t separate issues. They’re the same issue, told two different ways.
If your team already leans toward getting the physical side of accessibility right but hasn’t thought as much about language, you’re not alone. It’s often the last piece people consider, and it’s usually the easiest one to fix once you know what to look for, which is really the heart of what any disability language guide should teach you. We talked about a similar gap in Compassion Over Compliance: How It Creates Better Accessible Businesses, and language is a perfect example of choosing compassion over the bare minimum.
Want Help Making Your Language and Your Business More Inclusive?
A disability language guide is a great starting point, but it’s only one piece of building a genuinely accessible business. If you want a second set of eyes on how your team talks about disability, whether that’s on your website, in your marketing, or in how your staff greets customers, our inclusive design and consulting services can help. Reach out to us and we’ll walk you through what that could look like for your team.
