Let me tell you about the moment I realized Silicon Valley doesn’t give a damn about disabled people. It was when I read about a stair-climbing wheelchair that costs $30,000 and requires a maintenance crew. A maintenance crew. For a wheelchair. Meanwhile, I’m struggling to open a door with a round knob because my hands don’t work the way they used to. But a ramp? A ramp is boring. You can’t pitch a ramp to venture capitalists. You can’t give a TED Talk about a ramp. And that’s exactly the problem.
Silicon Valley’s disability innovation isn’t designed for disabled people — it’s designed for investors who want to feel good about themselves. Every new gadget, every ‘disruptive’ assistive tech, every breathless announcement about a robotic exoskeleton or a brain-computer interface — they’re all built to sell the fantasy of a future where disability is solved by technology. But the reality is grindingly simple: most disabled people don’t need a $30,000 wheelchair that climbs stairs. They need a ramp that costs $500. They need doorknobs you can turn with a closed fist. They need sidewalks that don’t end abruptly.
You’ve probably noticed this yourself. The tech world loves to talk about ’empowerment’ and ‘inclusion’ — but only when it makes for a good pitch deck. The moment you ask them to fund something as mundane as a curb cut, their eyes glaze over. Why? Because curb cuts don’t have a growth curve. They don’t have a cloud component. They don’t generate recurring revenue. They are, in the language of Silicon Valley, ‘not scalable.’
But here’s the ugly truth: a ramp is more radical than a stair-climbing wheelchair. A ramp works without Wi-Fi, without a subscription, without a maintenance crew, and without venture-scale returns — which is exactly why Silicon Valley ignores it. The ramp is a threat to the entire narrative. It says: you don’t need to invent a new market; you just need to fix the basic infrastructure. That doesn’t get you a headline. It doesn’t get you a unicorn valuation. It gets you a better life for millions of people. And apparently, that’s not exciting enough.
I saw this firsthand when I spoke to a product manager at a well-known tech company. She was excited about a ‘smart’ cane that could detect obstacles and vibrate. I asked her: ‘Have you asked any blind people what they actually want?’ She paused. ‘Well, we did a focus group…’ The focus group, she eventually admitted, had been recruited from a nearby university — mostly young, tech-savvy blind people who were already using smartphones. What about the elderly blind person who just wants a cane that doesn’t snap in the rain? She didn’t have an answer.
This is the pattern. Tech companies design for the most visible, most vocal, most ‘inspirational’ disabled users — the ones who can star in a TED Talk or a product launch video. They ignore the vast majority: the people who are tired, who are poor, who are old, who just want to get through the day without being reminded that the world wasn’t built for them. The real disability innovation isn’t a gadget that connects to the cloud. It’s a society that doesn’t require you to be a hero just to get to work.
So what do we do? Stop clapping for the dongles. Start demanding the boring stuff. Every time you see a headline about a ‘breakthrough’ assistive device, ask yourself: does this solve a real problem, or does it solve a marketing problem? If the answer is the latter, call it out. Write a blog post. Make a meme. The tech industry is terrified of being called out for performative inclusion — and that fear is the only leverage we have.
Because the truth is, we don’t need more innovation. We need more ramps. And a ramp doesn’t need a TED Talk. It needs a building code.
FAQ
Q: Don't these expensive gadgets help some disabled people?
A: Yes, they help a tiny fraction of users who can afford them and have the support network. But they are luxury items, not solutions for the majority. The focus on high-tech gadgets diverts funding and attention from simple, universal fixes like ramps, curb cuts, and better door handles that help everyone.
Q: What should we do instead of funding these flashy devices?
A: Invest in universal design and basic infrastructure. Mandate ramps in new buildings, improve public transit accessibility, and redesign common objects (doorknobs, faucets, touchscreens) to be usable by people with a range of abilities. These changes are cheaper, more durable, and benefit a much larger population.
Q: Isn't the real problem that disabled people aren't given enough voice in design?
A: Actually, many disabled people have been vocal for decades about what they need. The problem is that the tech industry chooses to listen to the most marketable voices — the ones who want flashy gadgets — because that fits their narrative. The real solution is to stop centering investors and start centering the lived experience of the majority of disabled people, especially those who are older, poorer, or less tech-savvy.