
As I listen to reports of the devastating fires in Los Angeles, I can’t help but reflect on one stark and unsettling reality: emergencies present unique and often life-threatening challenges for people with disabilities. These challenges extend beyond the immediate danger of escaping a crisis; they encompass the daunting tasks of finding accessible shelter and navigating the aftermath of disaster.
As a disabled woman and someone deeply connected to the disability community, these
reflections are not just theoretical—they are deeply personal. My mind goes back to similar fears and concerns during the crisis in Israel on October 7th and the ongoing war. Both situations reveal challenges we may not often think about for disabled individuals during emergencies. I had my own brief exposure to this. This past summer, my husband and I were in Israel visiting our kids and grandkids during a tense time when the country was bracing for a potential barrage of missiles and an attack from Iran. As a blind woman, I couldn’t ignore the very real fear of what I would do if the sirens went off while I was alone. Would I know how to get to a shelter in time? What if I was sitting apart from my family when the warning sounded?
These questions weighed heavily on me, making me acutely aware of how much more
challenging these moments can be for people with disabilities. The risks are real, urgent, and
demand our attention.
But as I’ve been listening to the news reports for days, one thing has struck me profoundly: the stories about disabled individuals in these disasters are almost nonexistent. News reports highlight evacuation efforts, individual stories of heroism, and the heartbreak of people returning to find their homes and schools destroyed. Yet the experiences of disabled people-arguably some of the most vulnerable in these crises-are glaringly absent.
I saw a brief mention of a woman who had to evacuate her disabled son from their home. But that was it. No details about the challenges she faced, how they managed to get to safety, or where they went afterward. Meanwhile, I heard many stories of celebrities losing their homes.
When disaster strikes, the ability to evacuate swiftly can mean the difference between life and death. Yet for individuals with disabilities, timely evacuation is fraught with barriers that most people don’t have to consider—and many people don’t even realize.
For people who use wheelchairs or mobility aids, evacuation is often a logistical nightmare.
Power outages frequently disable elevators, leaving staircases as the only option—a dangerous or impossible route for many. I can’t stop thinking about disabled citizens in Israel, who have mere seconds to reach a bomb shelter, sometimes on another floor or in an unfamiliar place if they are out and about. Even when elevators are operational, the time it takes to reach safety can be critical.
Narrow corridors, blocked exits, and uneven outdoor terrain add to the peril. Even those who can walk short distances may find the chaos and physical demands overwhelming during high-stress situations.
Emergencies don’t just disrupt physical movement—they can disorient and overwhelm people with sensory or cognitive disabilities. Blind individuals, for example, may struggle to navigate environments filled with smoke, debris, and loud noises that make familiar spaces
unrecognizable, while unfamiliar surroundings present their own challenges. Deaf individuals
might miss critical evacuation instructions, alarms, or announcements, especially in settings with few visual cues.
For people with cognitive disabilities, the fast-paced and chaotic nature of emergencies can lead to confusion and fear. Complex instructions or unclear communication can hinder their ability to act effectively in time-sensitive situations.
The woman evacuating her disabled son likely faced one or more of these barriers, yet her story remains untold. Did she have help? Did she encounter obstacles along the way? Was she able to find an accessible place for her and her son to shelter in? These are the details we need to hear, both to understand the gravity of these situations and to demand better preparedness.
Getting out alive is only the first hurdle. Finding a safe place to stay-sometimes for an extended period-poses a new set of challenges for people with disabilities.
Too often, emergency shelters are not designed with accessibility in mind. Wheelchair users may arrive to find stairs instead of ramps, narrow doorways, or bathrooms that are impossible to use. Even legally required accommodations for service animals are sometimes overlooked, leaving individuals without the support they rely on.
For people with sensory sensitivities, such as autism or PTSD, shelters can be overwhelming.
Bright lights, loud noises, and crowded spaces can make them unmanageable, forcing some to choose between enduring distress or staying in unsafe conditions.
Family and friends’ homes are often the go-to option for evacuees, but for people with
disabilities, this isn’t always feasible. Many homes aren’t accessible, and loved ones may be
dealing with their own evacuations or losses.
The woman who evacuated her disabled son might now be facing these exact dilemmas. Where did they go? These questions highlight how much more needs to be done to support disabled individuals and their families in crises.
Transportation during emergencies is another critical barrier. Unlike most people, those with
disabilities often cannot simply “hop in a car” or rely on public transit. Wheelchair users require vehicles with ramps or lifts, which are in short supply even in non-emergency situations. We heard many reports of people who had to abandon their cars and run before their vehicles caught fire-not a great scenario for someone with mobility issues. In Israel, people are told that if they are in a car or bus when the sirens go off, they must get out, lay on the ground, and cover themselves-again, an impossibility for many people with disabilities given the immediacy of the missile threat.
For those who rely on caregivers for mobility, medical care, or operating assistive devices, the stakes are even higher. During a crisis, caregivers may also need to evacuate or face obstacles like inaccessible roads, leaving the individuals they support vulnerable and alone.
Power outages compound these challenges for people who depend on electricity to power
essential devices like oxygen concentrators or ventilators. Without caregivers to help ensure
these devices remain functional, the situation becomes life-threatening.
Emergencies don’t wait for everyone to be ready, but we can-and must-take steps to ensure that people with disabilities aren’t left behind. Here are some ways we can bridge the gaps:
1. Accessible Evacuation Routes
Buildings must be equipped with accessible evacuation routes, including ramps,
evacuation chairs, and backup power for elevators. First responders and staff need
training to assist disabled individuals effectively.
2. Inclusive Alerts
Alerts should be delivered in multiple formats—visual, auditory, and simplified text—to
accommodate various disabilities. Compatibility with assistive technologies like screen
readers is essential.
3. Accessible Shelters
Shelters must prioritize accessibility with ramps, wide doorways, accessible bathrooms,
and quiet spaces. Staff should be trained to assist individuals with disabilities and
accommodate service animals.
4. Personal Emergency Plans
People with disabilities and their caregivers should prepare detailed emergency plans,
including backup caregivers, accessible transportation options, and “go bags” with
essential supplies like medications and medical records.
5. Community Support Systems
Systems should connect disabled individuals to trained emergency volunteers or local
networks when caregivers are unavailable. Emergency registries can ensure responders
are aware of individuals with specific needs.
The fires in Los Angeles, the crisis in Israel, and other mass emergencies remind us that
emergencies disproportionately impact the most vulnerable among us. For people with
disabilities, these events are not just dangerous—they can be insurmountable without adequate support.
But they also highlight a glaring problem: the invisibility of disabled voices in disaster
narratives. Stories like the woman evacuating her disabled son need to be told-not just to
document their struggles, but to create awareness and galvanize action.
To create a truly inclusive society, we must integrate accessibility into every facet of emergency preparedness. This includes equipping buildings, training first responders, supporting caregivers, and fostering community awareness.
Emergencies will always be unpredictable, but our preparation doesn’t have to be. By addressing these challenges now, we can ensure that when disaster strikes, no one is left behind. My heart aches for all those affected by these crises-the victims in Los Angeles, Israel, and everywhere disasters unfold. But as someone entrenched in the disability community, I can’t help but think of the added fear, challenges, and devastation experienced by disabled individuals.
These are not abstract concerns; they are very real issues that disabled people face.
By Michelle Friedman
Michelle Friedman is the board chair of Keshet in Chicago, a member of Disability Lead and has been a disability advocate for 40 years. She has written two children’s books and is a frequent speaker for elementary and high school-age students.
Excellent article. JCFS runs fire/emergency drills in their houses. When the living room sprinkler heads went off spontaneously and flooded the front of the house, the staff did a reasonably good job of notifying management and parents and evacuating the house, but forgot to call the fire department. But that's a lot different than a fire, bombing, or shooting, G-d forbid.