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World-Renowned Accessibility Advocate Donna J. Jodhan – Who Takes Care of Our Rights

Greetings everyone and I’m Scott Savoy also back from a lovely vacation.
Yes, July is simply motoring along and for today our President Donna J. Jodhan has an important question to ask.
She wishes to know who is taking care of our rights?
Please read her editorial and send your feedback to donnajodhan@sterlingcreations.ca.
Happy weekend

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Who Takes Care of Our Rights
There is a quiet confusion at the heart of our society—one that rarely makes headlines but shapes the everyday lives of countless people: who, exactly, is responsible for protecting our rights?

On paper, the answer seems straightforward. Governments legislate rights. Institutions enforce them. Courts interpret them. Agencies investigate violations. Advocacy groups push for progress. Law firms litigate when things go wrong. It looks like a well-oiled machine.
But in reality, it often feels like a relay race where the baton keeps getting dropped.

Should the responsibility rest primarily with government? After all, rights are enshrined in law, and elected officials are entrusted with safeguarding them. Yet governments are also political entities, influenced by shifting priorities, budgets, and public pressure. Rights protection can become reactive rather than proactive—addressed only when problems become too visible to ignore.

What about bodies like the Canadian Human Rights Commission? These institutions exist specifically to uphold human rights, investigate complaints, and promote equality. But they are often limited by resources, jurisdictional boundaries, and the sheer volume of cases. They are guardians, yes—but not omnipresent ones.
Then there are agencies created by and for people with disabilities and other marginalized groups. These organizations bring lived experience, urgency, and insight that larger institutions often lack. They advocate, educate, and support. Yet they are frequently underfunded and expected to fill systemic gaps they were never designed to carry alone.

And what of law firms that brand themselves as human rights specialists? They play a critical role, especially when rights must be defended in court. But access to legal support often depends on financial means, awareness, and stamina—resources not everyone has.
So we arrive at a troubling possibility: perhaps the issue isn’t that no one is responsible—but that everyone is, in theory, and therefore no one is fully accountable in practice.

There is a kind of silent standoff. Governments wait for complaints. Agencies wait for mandates. Advocates wait for funding. Lawyers wait for clients. Meanwhile, individuals—especially the most vulnerable—are left navigating a fragmented system, unsure where to turn or who will truly take ownership of their rights.

It raises an uncomfortable question: are we witnessing a gap in responsibility, or a diffusion of it?

The answer may not lie in choosing one entity over another. Rights are too complex, too human, to be safeguarded by a single actor. But what is needed—urgently—is clarity. Clear roles. Clear accountability. And, perhaps most importantly, a shared understanding that protecting rights is not a task to be deferred.
Because rights delayed are often rights denied.

If everyone is waiting for someone else to step up, then the system isn’t just inefficient—it is failing.
The real answer, then, is not “who should take care of rights?” but rather: who is willing to take responsibility, right now, without waiting?

I’d like to leave you with this for your consideration.
The room feels heavy before anyone even speaks.
A long table stretches across the center, its surface crowded with uneven stacks of papers—forms, notices, letters—some neatly aligned, others pushed aside in quiet frustration. Around it sit a group of people whose bodies tell different stories: a woman in a wheelchair with her hands folded tightly in her lap, a man leaning on his walker as if it’s the only steady thing in the room, an older couple with canes resting against the table’s edge. A few wear hearing aids, their eyes moving carefully from face to face, reading expressions as much as words.
No one looks relaxed. Shoulders are tense, brows furrowed. There’s a shared kind of worry here—not loud or chaotic, but deep and settled, like something that’s been building for a long time.
The only real movement comes from the glow at the front of the room. A large screen flickers, washing the group in cold light. Bold words pulse across it:
“WHO IS PROTECTING OUR RIGHTS?”
The question hangs in the air, unanswered. Papers rustle softly. Someone exhales. No one looks away from the screen for long.
It feels less like a meeting—and more like a moment where people are realizing they may be on their own.
Image = A large Canadian flag with a red maple leaf waves on a pole above a crowded outdoor scene, where numerous people and uniformed police officers in dark attire and caps stand closely packed along a tree-lined path, with green foliage filling the background and a few partially visible protest signs among the crowd under an overcast sky.

To learn more about me as an award winning sight loss coach and advocate visit http://www.donnajodhan.com

 

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