By nae vallejo, access designer and experiential archivist

For disabled and neurodivergent creators, artists, consultants, facilitators, and storytellers, access is rarely absent. It is simply postponed. And postponement, when it comes to access, is a form of extraction.

I am often invited into rooms because of what I know how to notice. 

A couple of years ago, I was invited to collaborate on a storytelling project for a justice-oriented nonprofit. The invitation was warm, affirming, and full of shared language about equity and care. We talked about vision. We talked about impact. We talked about timelines and deliverables. What we did not talk about, at least not in any concrete way, was access. 

I named my needs early: captioning for meetings, flexible timelines that accounted for sensory fatigue, meeting agendas ahead of time for processing, and upfront compensation to cover access labor I could not carry on my own. The response was kind, but vague. “Let us explore what we can do.” “We may need to reimburse after.” “Once the contract is signed, we will revisit.” 

I agreed to move forward anyway because this is often the moment where disabled creators are expected to choose between principle and participation. 

By the second meeting, I was already absorbing unpaid labor, coordinating access logistics, adjusting my schedule around last minute changes, stretching my capacity to meet a timeline that had not been built with my body in mind. 

The work was meaningful. The cost was invisible. That experience is not unique. It is routine. What it taught me, again, is that access is rarely denied outright. It is simply deferred, and the deferral is where harm accumulates. 

I notice where bodies are expected to bend without support. I notice when timelines assume endless flexibility. I notice when people say “we value access” but mean “we will see what is possible once the work is already underway.” 

For disabled and neurodivergent creators, artists, consultants, facilitators, and storytellers, access is rarely absent. It is simply postponed. And postponement, when it comes to access, is a form of extraction. 

Access Is Labor, Not an Accommodation 

Skim note: Access enables the work. When it is delayed or unfunded, the cost shifts onto disabled bodies.

In nonprofit and philanthropic spaces, access is still too often framed as an extra: an accommodation, an add-on, a cost to be justified rather than a form of labor to be resourced. This framing shows up in familiar ways: 

  • “Can we reimburse you later?” 
  • “We did not budget for that, but we will try.” 
  • “Let us explore how the collaboration goes first.” 

What these phrases obscure is a simple truth: access is what allows the work to happen at all. 

As a disabled, neurodivergent, hard of hearing, service animal guardian, my access needs are not theoretical. They are practical, relational, and ongoing. They shape how I prepare, communicate, travel, rest, and create. When access is unfunded or delayed, the labor does not disappear, it shifts onto my body, my time, and my survival. 

That shift is not neutral. It reproduces the same extractive dynamics many justice oriented organizations claim to resist. 

The Hidden Cost of “Later” 

Skim note: Delayed access funding compounds harm over time. 

Delayed access funding often hides behind good intentions. Organizations may genuinely want to be inclusive. Funders may genuinely care about equity. But intention does not undo impact. When payment for access is delayed, disabled creators are asked to front the costs of participation, financially, physically, and emotionally. This might mean: 

  • Paying out of pocket for interpretation, captioning, or assistive technology
  • Working through pain, fatigue, or sensory overload to meet inflexible deadlines 
  • Absorbing additional coordination labor that goes unpaid and unnamed 

Over time, this produces burnout, attrition, and silence. Not because disabled creators lack capacity, but because the system is structured to rely on our unpaid flexibility. 

For many disabled creators, this pattern compounds across years and projects. One delayed reimbursement becomes another. One “we will figure it out later” becomes a career shaped by constant triage. The cost is cumulative: relationships strained, bodies pushed past sustainable limits, creative work narrowed by what can be afforded rather than what is needed. Many people simply leave these spaces not because they stopped caring about justice, but because justice was not practiced in how their labor was held. This is not a failure of individual organizations. It is a cultural pattern. 

Upfront Payment as a Disability Justice Practice 

Skim note: Paying for access upfront is an ethical commitment, not a convenience. 

Upfront payment for access is not about convenience. It is about ethics. Disability justice teaches us that access is collective, interdependent, and anticipatory. We do not wait for harm to occur before responding. We build conditions that allow people to show up fully, without sacrificing their health, dignity, or financial stability. Upfront payment does several important things at once: 

  • It acknowledges access as real labor 
  • It redistributes risk away from disabled bodies 
  • It signals trust and respect in the collaboration 

Most importantly, it changes the relationship. Instead of disabled creators proving our worth before being resourced, the organization demonstrates its commitment before the work begins. That reversal matters. 

Budgeting for Access Is Budgeting for Integrity 

Skim note: Budgets reflect values. Leaving access out makes participation conditional. 

Many organizations say they cannot afford upfront access costs, but budgets are not neutral documents. They reflect values, priorities, and assumptions about whose labor is predictable and whose is expendable. When access is left out of the initial budget, it sends a message, even 

if unintentionally, that disabled participation is conditional. Budgeting for access as a standard practice means: 

  • Including line items for access needs at the outset 
  • Asking about access early, without defensiveness or delay 
  • Treating access costs as nonnegotiable, not optional 

This is not about perfection. It is about preparation. 

Beyond Inclusion: Toward Economic Accountability 

Skim note: Inclusion without sustainability hides extraction. 

Much of the nonprofit sector has learned how to talk about inclusion. Far fewer have learned how to practice economic accountability. Economic accountability asks different questions: 

  • Who is carrying the cost of this collaboration? 
  • Who is expected to be flexible, and who is protected? 
  • Whose labor is seen as core, and whose is treated as supplementary? 

For disabled creators, these questions are not abstract. They determine whether we can participate at all. 

If organizations are serious about equity, they must look beyond participation metrics and examine payment structures, timelines, and assumptions about capacity. Too often, success is measured by who is present rather than by who is sustained. 

An accessible panel, report, or campaign may present as inclusive on paper, while quietly depending on disabled people to absorb unreimbursed costs in order to participate. Economic accountability asks us to notice not just who made it into the room, but who was supported well enough to stay. 

What Funders and Nonprofits Can Do Differently 

Skim note: Simple shifts in timing, budgeting, and trust reduce harm.

Shifting this culture does not require reinventing everything. It requires clarity, humility, and follow through. Some starting points: 

  • Ask about access needs before contracting, not after 
  • Pay for access upfront, not as reimbursement 
  • Build access costs into grant budgets as standard practice 
  • Trust disabled creators to know what they need 

These practices do more than improve accessibility. They build relationships rooted in care rather than extraction. 

Access Is Not Extra 

Skim note: Access is labor. Labor deserves upfront resourcing. 

Disabled and neurodivergent creators are not asking for special treatment. We are asking for conditions that make ethical collaboration possible. Access is not a favor. It is not a bonus. It is not something to be earned after trust is established. Access is labor. And labor deserves to be resourced, upfront. 

If the nonprofit and philanthropic sectors want to move toward justice and sustainability, they must start here: by paying for access as the work itself. When access is resourced upfront, something shifts. Disabled creators can plan rather than scramble. Collaboration becomes mutual rather than conditional. Creative and strategic work deepens because energy is no longer spent compensating for structural neglect. What emerges is not just accessibility, but trust. 

Because without access, there is no collaboration, only quiet harm dressed up as inclusion.

nae vallejo

nae vallejo

nae vallejo (they/he) is a Black, Caddo, Mexican, queer, trans, disabled experiential archivist and access designer. their work moves through memory, rememory, and care, exploring how survivors leave trace across body, land, and story. as the founder of naeborhood projects, nae creates art that weaves disability justice, sensory attunement, and community connection into everyday practices of survival and tenderness. a hard of hearing, neurodivergent service dog guardian and lifelong educator, he centers interdependence, ritual, and storytelling as tools for collective care. follow their offerings on Instagram @naeborhoodprojects and support their labor via Venmo @nae-vallejo or Paypal @naevallejo.


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