Can you read me?

There are a lot of things that happen in April. One that is often overlooked is Autism Awareness Month. (I am sad to admit I wasn’t aware it was in April until this year.)

According to Autism Speaks, 1 in every 45 U.S. adults have autism spectrum disorder (ASD) and the CDC estimates 1% of the global population (that’s 75M people!) has ASD.

Part of the much-needed awareness about autism is that people on the spectrum are just that—on a spectrum—and as individual as any neurotypical person you might be collaborating with or creating content for.

This is my crude segue into ensuring that your content is accessible to anyone so that your story comes through.

Not targeting everyone.
Not geared for everyone.
Not even useful for everyone.

Because that’s a pointless, Sisyphean struggle.

It’s also important for me to note here that when people talk about “accessibility” they’re often talking about accommodating disability. Autism is not a disability, so we’ll be thinking about accessibility more broadly in what follows.

In my mind, accessibility means that people who choose to interact with your content can do so, whether they’re neurotypical, on the spectrum, visually or hearing impaired, native or foreign language speakers, a member of a historically marginalized social and/or economic population, etc. etc. etc.

How does that look? Assuming you have 1) centered your audience’s relevant pain point and 2) crafted your content to address it, accessibility looks like:

* Ease. Specifically, ease of access. If your content requires means that are niche and/or costly (e.g., AR headgear or substantial fee), you’ve eliminated most of the population. Subscription fatigue is real. If your content is gated, that’s an effective way to build a contacts list, but if everything you put out there is behind a wall, how are people supposed to know whether they want to join you inside it?

* Representation. All the DEIB backlash in the world doesn’t change the fact that human beings are diverse. Physically, psychologically, economically, religiously, politically, geographically, educationally (I’m sure I’m missing some here), different. If the imagery you use in your content reflects a monochromatic monocultural population, you’re alienating people who aren’t part of that small (and, in the United States, shrinking) group.

* Understanding. Alt tags, captions, and capitalization in hashtags aren’t pesky “if there’s time” tasks; they’re a key to comprehension for people with sensory impairments. If people must work harder to get your message, they’ll move on to someone who gets all of their pain points, not just the ones that may prove financially beneficial.

* Universality. This is where a lot of content falls down. It could otherwise be flawless, but it makes assumptions. Assuming that people have the same lived experiences and cultural touchpoints. Assuming that abbreviations and acronyms are obvious and unique to your discipline (there are many instances of duplicative acronyms that have nothing to do with each other). Ignoring that your audience is not solely him/her and failing to adjust your references accordingly. Essentially, once you’ve done your read-through for flow, clarity, grammar, etc. do (or have an uninvolved party do) a final read-through to ensure your vocabulary is neutral and jargon-free and that your similes, metaphors, and allegories don’t presume “common” knowledge or familiarity with that one show on that one streaming service or that one meme on that one social channel. (This is all assuming your target audience is broader than a slightly-larger-than-inner circle.)

All of these roll up into demonstrating true empathy and respect for your audience. So, you’re either walking the talk, or risking them walking away…



Image © Shazaf Zafar courtesy Unsplash