Article
It was 1990 when I started falling over at school. My parents took me to countless hospital appointments, trying to figure out what was happening. There were many questions but few answers. When I was finally diagnosed with Charcot-Marie-Tooth, a progressive neurological condition, my neurologist told my parents that life would be challenging for me. Tasks like grocery shopping or driving as an adult would become increasingly difficult, and I’d need more support as I got older.
I remember my mum saying, “Don’t worry, things will be different by then. Technology will have advanced—you’ll be able to call the grocery store, and they’ll deliver to your door or load them into your car.” I used to imagine this futuristic, accessible world she described.
Funnily enough, she wasn’t wrong. Today, you can have groceries delivered or loaded into your car without stepping into the store. COVID-19 further proved how quickly the world can adapt when non-disabled people need change. Remote work, hybrid workplaces, and flexible environments—things the disability community had long advocated for—became the norm almost overnight.
The rise of new technology and AI has been both thrilling and concerning for people with disabilities.
I’ve seen its transformative impact firsthand. For example, while supporting an organisation design a training plan for staff, including those with intellectual disability, I suggested using AI to simplify language. In minutes, the task was done.
AI has become a game-changer for accessibility. Many disabled friends use AI- speech-to-text and text-to-speech technologies to bridge communication gaps. However, there are valid concerns about AI perpetuating bias and discrimination. For instance, if AI systems are trained on non-inclusive data, they might fail to recognise people with specific features, limiting access to essential services.
Another significant barrier is cost. Many people with disabilities live below the poverty line, and expensive AI software and tech risk deepening existing inequalities. It’s not fair that only a privileged few can afford tools that provide access and inclusion, leaving others further marginalised.
This is why disability advocates are pushing for co-design. As the saying goes, “Nothing about us without us.” Disabled people must be at the table during the development of these technologies, shaping decisions that directly impact their lives. AI tools should also be accessible and affordable, potentially supported by Australian government initiatives.
Despite the challenges, this is an exciting time for accessibility. With a wave of a phone, blind people can access detailed visual descriptions. AI enables remote work opportunities and innovative projects like Japan’s Dawn Café, where robot waiters operated by disabled staff create meaningful employment and social connections. This initiative began after Kentaro, who experienced loneliness during childhood illness, recognised the potential of technology to foster connection and opportunity.
However, without careful regulation, AI could worsen ableism. It’s so important that we ensure AI doesn’t amplify stereotypes or inequality. Disabled individuals must be central to its development to create a more inclusive future, where AI enhances inclusion and accessibility, and doesn’t make it worse.
And you never know, maybe in the coming years AI robots will not only deliver my groceries, but make me dinner.