Why Allyship Is More Than Just Good Intentions

It’s about understanding, action and sometimes even discomfort.

When people find out I’m blind, the first thing many of them want to do is help. That instinct

usually comes from kindness, and I don’t take that for granted. But being an ally to people with disabilities — whether that’s blindness, deafness, mobility challenges, neurodivergence, chronic illness, or any other form of disability — goes far beyond good intentions. It’s about

understanding, action, and sometimes even discomfort.

Good intentions might lead you to hold a door, offer your elbow, speak up so someone can find you in a crowded room, or explain what’s on a menu. These gestures are thoughtful, and yes, they do make a difference. But true allyship asks for something deeper. It asks you to look at the systems, attitudes, and structures that make it hard for people with disabilities to be included in the first place.

Being an ally starts with curiosity and courage. It’s about asking the questions that often go

unspoken: Why isn’t this event accessible to people with mobility devices? Why doesn’t this

website have screen reader compatibility? Why isn’t there audio description or close captioning for videos? Why is the assumption always they can’t instead of how can we make this work?

Allyship isn’t about swooping in to “rescue” someone. It’s about standing alongside us and

working to create environments where no one needs rescuing — because access, belonging, and respect are built into the foundation.

Here’s the truth: good intentions without action can sometimes do more harm than good.

Speaking for someone instead of letting them answer a question takes away their agency.

Deciding what a person needs without asking reinforces the idea that people with disabilities can’t make their own choices. Assuming someone’s abilities based on how they look, or the mobility aid they are using ignores the diversity of experiences within the disability community. Real allyship means slowing down, listening, and respecting that each person knows their own needs best. It’s about letting people lead the conversation about their own lives.

The most powerful allies I’ve met aren’t the ones who rush to help without thinking. They’re the ones who pause and ask, “What do you need?” or “How can I make this space more accessible for you?” They’re the people who bring accessibility into conversations when no one else does — the coworkers who make sure a meeting is accessible, the friends who advocate for ramps and elevators, the leaders who budget for accessibility tools without needing to be asked. True allies challenge assumptions, educate others, and use their voice and influence to create a world that welcomes everyone.

Good intentions are a great start, but allyship lives in action. It’s showing up, speaking out, and making changes that ripple far beyond a single moment. It’s recognizing that accessibility isn’t just the job of people with disabilities — it’s everyone’s responsibility. If you truly want to be an ally, don’t just think about how you can help in one isolated instance. Think about how you can help change the environments and systems that make life harder for disabled people in the first place.

Here’s your challenge: start where you are. Notice what’s inaccessible in your community,

workplace, or social circles. Ask questions. Speak up. Offer your support in ways that empower rather than overshadow. Allyship isn’t a title you give yourself — it’s a daily practice of action, empathy, and accountability.

Together, we can build a world where all people with disabilities are valued, can thrive, belong, and be fully included.

Written 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. #AllInForAllAbilities