Ah yes and is it time already to say so long to April?
I’m Christian Robicheau at the Sterling Creations desk and today I am pleased to share our president’s editorial with you.
For this week, Donna J. Jodhan talks about how old habits die hard.
This is a must read!
Write to Donna at donnajodhan@sterlingcreations.ca with your feedback.
She would love to hear from you.
Enjoy your weekend.
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When Old Habits Die Hard
By Donna J. Jodhan
One would think that by now—after decades of advocacy, policy reform, and growing awareness—institutions would have learned. Governments, corporations, universities, and agencies have all publicly committed themselves to equity, inclusion, and accessibility. The language is polished. The intentions, at least on paper, are clear.
And yet, the old habits persist.
A recent example lays this contradiction bare: a foreign airline, seeking to meet accessibility requirements under Canadian law, reportedly asked a legal firm to reach out to persons with disabilities for free consulting services. Not discounted. Not fairly compensated. Free.
This is not an isolated misstep. It is part of a pattern—one that reveals how deeply embedded certain attitudes remain. The assumption that people with disabilities should volunteer their time, knowledge, and lived expertise for the benefit of large institutions is not just outdated; it is profoundly disrespectful.
Let’s be clear: lived experience is expertise. It is not anecdotal. It is not optional. It is not a charitable contribution to be requested at no cost. It is a form of knowledge that cannot be replicated in boardrooms or policy drafts without direct input from those who live it
every day.
And yet, time and again, organizations treat this expertise as though it exists outside the economy of value. They budget for consultants, lawyers, strategists, and analysts—but when it comes to accessibility, they turn to the very people most affected and ask them to contribute for free.
Why?
Part of the answer lies in inertia. Systems are slow to change, especially when those in power have never had to question their assumptions. Another part lies in perception: disability is still too often framed through a lens of charity rather than equity. When that mindset persists, it becomes easier to justify unpaid “engagement” rather than paid professional collaboration.
But there is also a more uncomfortable truth: recognizing the expertise of persons with disabilities would require institutions to fundamentally rethink how they assign value. It would mean acknowledging that accessibility is not an afterthought or a compliance
checkbox—it is a domain requiring specialized, compensated knowledge.
So how do we put an end to this condescending and outdated practice?
First, by naming it for what it is. Unpaid consultation is not inclusion. It is exploitation dressed in the language of engagement.
Second, by setting clear expectations. Advocacy groups, professionals, and communities must continue to assert that their contributions carry value—and that value deserves compensation. No exceptions.
Third, by holding institutions accountable. Public commitments to accessibility must be matched by ethical practices. When organizations fall short, they must be called out—not quietly, but publicly and persistently.
Finally, by shifting the narrative. Persons with disabilities are not passive recipients of policy. They are experts, innovators, and leaders whose insights improve systems for everyone. Their contributions are not favors; they are professional services.
The question is not whether institutions can do better. It is whether they are willing to confront the habits that have allowed them not to.
Old habits die hard—but they do die. The moment we collectively refuse to accept them is the moment change becomes not just possible, but inevitable.
I’d like to leave you with this for your consideration.
A well-dressed businessman stands upright behind a polished lectern, hands resting confidently on either side as he addresses the room. Behind him, an overhead screen glows with the words, “Thank you for volunteering your time.” The message feels formal, almost rehearsed, hanging in contrast to the lived reality of the audience before him.
The room is filled with individuals of varied abilities—some seated in wheelchairs, others supported by walkers or canes, and a few adjusting hearing aids as they focus on his speech. Their presence brings a quiet weight to the space, a sense of experience and resilience that isn’t easily summarized.
At the center of a long table, clearly visible to both the speaker and the audience, sits a bold sign: “Please pay us for our unique expertise!” Its message cuts through the room with clarity and conviction, challenging the tone of the presentation and reframing the gathering—not as an act of charity, but as one of value, contribution, and rightful recognition.
Image = Stacked square and round wooden blocks arranged in a pyramid display simple black and white icons representing people, including male and female figures and disabled users, set against a soft neutral background, conveying themes of diversity, inclusion, and accessibility.
To learn more about me as an award winning sight loss coach and advocate visit www.donnajodhan.com