What Happened To Communicating And Collaborating
When organizations and agencies that exist for and of persons with disabilities appear to deliberately turn down opportunities brought forward by a person with a disability, it raises an uncomfortable but necessary question: what happened to communicating and collaborating?
Too often, individuals with disabilities are encouraged to “share their ideas,” “bring solutions to the table,” and “be part of the conversation.” Yet when they do exactly that — when they create opportunities, initiate discussions, or develop innovative possibilities with real potential — they are met not with support, but with resistance.
Roadblocks appear where open doors should be.
What makes this even more troubling is that many of these organizations publicly promote inclusion, empowerment, and partnership. They speak passionately about accessibility and representation. However, in practice, many individuals with disabilities experience something very different behind the scenes: silence, dismissiveness, territorial behavior, and an unwillingness to genuinely collaborate.
In many cases, the person with the disability who originated the idea is gradually pushed aside. Meetings happen without them. Decisions are made around them instead of with them. Credit and recognition begin to shift toward the organization, its leadership, or staff members who had little or nothing to do with the original concept.
The message becomes painfully clear: your lived experience is valuable, but only as long as someone else controls the narrative.
This creates frustration, mistrust, and discouragement within the disability community itself. It also exposes a contradiction that cannot be ignored. How can organizations claim to champion inclusion while sidelining the very people whose voices and creativity should be central to the process?
True collaboration requires humility. It requires organizations to acknowledge that innovation does not always come from boardrooms, committees, or executives. Sometimes it comes directly from individuals living with disabilities who understand the barriers firsthand and who possess the determination and insight to create meaningful change.
Unfortunately, some organizations appear more concerned with ownership, public image, and institutional recognition than with supporting genuine grassroots leadership from persons with disabilities. Collaboration becomes conditional — acceptable only if the organization remains at the center of attention.
This mindset harms everyone.
When organizations dismiss or obstruct opportunities instead of embracing them, valuable ideas are lost. Progress slows. Relationships fracture. Most importantly, persons with disabilities are once again reminded that even within spaces supposedly designed for them, their voices may still be treated as secondary.
Real inclusion means more than listening sessions and carefully worded mission statements. It means respecting contributions, sharing credit fairly, and understanding that collaboration is not competition.
If a person with a disability creates an opportunity with real potential, organizations should not be asking how they can control it. They should be asking how they can support it.
Perhaps the larger question is not simply what happened to communicating and collaborating.
Perhaps the question is: when did supporting persons with disabilities become less important than protecting organizational ego and recognition?
Until organizations are willing to honestly confront that question, many opportunities for true progress will continue to be lost before they ever have the chance to succeed.
I’d like to leave you with this for your consideration.
A modern conference room with soft overhead lighting and a polished rectangular boardroom table dominates the space. Seated near the center of the table is a woman in her late twenties or thirties, poised and professional, with a cane resting beside her chair. Several neatly arranged documents, folders, and handwritten notes are spread out in front of her, suggesting months of planning and careful preparation. Her expression is thoughtful yet restrained, as if she is watching her own vision being presented through someone else’s voice.
At the far end of the room, a large digital presentation screen glows brightly. In bold professional lettering, it reads:
“Camp Retreat Possibilities for Participants Preparing to Leave High School and Young Adults Entering the Workplace”
Presented by Alexa Kerchov
Below that, in slightly larger institutional branding, appears:
“The Brain Child of the Association for Persons with Disabilities”
The subtle tension in the room comes from the visual hierarchy. Although Alexa’s name appears as presenter, the association’s logo and branding dominate the slide design, corporate and polished, overshadowing the personal origin of the idea. The atmosphere quietly suggests that while Alexa conceived the initiative and poured herself into its development, the organization has absorbed ownership of it publicly. Her presence at the table feels both central and sidelined at once — respected enough to present, but not fully credited as the creator.
The mood is professional but emotionally layered: ambition, advocacy, and institutional politics existing together beneath the calm surface of a formal meeting.
Image = Six hands of diverse skin tones hold up separate wooden jigsaw puzzle pieces in a horizontal line against a soft sky and distant mountain backdrop, with warm sunlight shining through a gap in one piece, suggesting connection, teamwork, and collaboration.
To learn more about me as an award winning sight loss coach and advocate visit http://www.donnajodhan.com