Our ambassador Georgina has written this blog to highlight how small accommodations can make a big difference — especially for disabled and neurodivergent people.
One thing I’ve noticed — again and again — in conversations with disabled people and anyone needing extra support is this: They don’t know they’re allowed to ask for reasonable adjustments. They don’t know they can.
And they certainly don’t know that they shouldn’t have to struggle without them.
Since 2010, reasonable adjustments have been a legal right under the Equality Act. Yet for many of us, they still feel like something whispered about, hidden in policy, or only granted to those who are persistent, articulate, or lucky enough to already know what to ask for.
I’ve seen this both through my lived experience as an autistic person, and in my time working as an early years educator. Support exists in theory — but in practice, it’s often patchy, conditional, and dependent on the person you’re talking to.
We hear that care should be equal. We’re told not to worry, because of course services are inclusive now. But are they?
Yes, we’ve seen ramps built for wheelchair access — progress. But for every ramp, there’s still a back entrance through a car park, or a fire door someone has to unlock.
Yes, some cinemas offer autism-friendly screenings — but usually only for one film, on one quiet weekday morning. What if that doesn’t work for you?
Yes, hospital letters get sent — but are they easy to understand? What about people with learning disabilities, those with English as a second language, or those with sight loss?
It leads to a crucial question: Are we disabled by our impairments — or by the world’s failure to accommodate us?
Because when we’re expected to adapt to inaccessible systems, to push through without support, or to stay silent about our needs, it’s not just difficult — it’s dehumanising.
That’s where reasonable adjustments come in. They are not optional extras. They are your right. And they’re not just for those with a diagnosis. They’re for anyone who needs them.
But what should I ask for? This is usually the next big question. Because for many of us, it’s not just that we don’t ask — it’s that we don’t know what we can ask for. When you’ve spent a lifetime just trying to fit in, survive appointments, or mask your distress, you may not even realise what would help — because no one’s ever shown you what’s possible.
Support is often only given if you already know how to name it.
That’s why I believe we need to normalise a simple, clear, and proactive approach — something every service or waiting room could offer: A “What Helps Me” reasonable adjustments form. Not only does it give you the language to name your needs, but it also takes the burden off individuals having to explain themselves again and again.
Reasonable Adjustments Are For Everyone
We often think of accessibility as being for “other people” — those with visible disabilities, mobility aids, or formal diagnoses. But in reality, accessibility supports all of us. We all deserve to feel comfortable, safe, and heard. You don’t need to apologise for asking. You don’t need to explain every detail of your condition. You don’t need permission to feel supported.
And if a system is built in a way that makes you feel like your needs are too much — then maybe it’s the system, not you, that needs adjusting. Let’s normalise asking. Let’s normalise listening. Let’s normalise care that meets people where they are.
Because accessibility isn’t a bonus — it’s a basic requirement. And reasonable adjustments aren’t a favour.
They’re essential.
Georgina,
Ambassador