The Americans With Disabilities Act Is Under Threat at the Supreme Court

Imagine spending weeks planning for a family vacation just to be turned away by the hotel when you arrive. Or not being able to attend family celebrations, funerals, doctors’ appointments, or industry conferences because the spaces are not accessible. Not only will you miss irreplaceable moments, but you’ll also miss opportunities to live a full life and build your future. These aren’t hypothetical scenarios. These scenarios happen to millions of disabled people in the United States every day.

As an intellectually disabled person who uses a wheelchair full time, my many experiences with inaccessibility have trained me to see equity gaps where others fail to. I am constantly reminded how the implementation of the Americans With Disabilities Act falls short. The ADA, passed 33 years ago, was groundbreaking legislation that has transformed the lives of disabled people by seeking to make sure we have equal access to the world around us. However, ADA enforcement largely relies on private lawsuits brought by individuals who have experienced discrimination rather than comprehensive government oversight. This reality has led to a culture in which businesses wait to be sued—hoping no one actually enforces the requirements—rather than proactively complying with the ADA as they are legally required to do.

That’s where ADA testers—or accountability experts, as I see them—come in. Similar to testers seeking to enforce other civil rights laws, ADA testers review accessibility barriers in order to counteract discrimination. I am proud to count myself as one of them. We do this work because the alternative is that public spaces will remain inaccessible to disabled people, continuing cycles of isolation, disproportionate poor health and employment rates, or worse. Unfortunately, the crucial role of ADA testers like myself is at stake as the Supreme Court will hear arguments over whether we can protect the ADA’s promise in Acheson Hotels LLC v. Laufer in just four weeks.

I was innocently ignorant until disability happened to me. It wasn’t until my adulthood that I was diagnosed with Arnold-Chiari malformation and found myself suddenly in a wheelchair needing a direct care worker to do daily activities. Before I became disabled, I never had to call ahead or do reconnaissance for the minimum level of inclusion. I was unaware the extent of which barriers still existed for disabled people as I assumed that the ADA knocked them down. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Now I know that disabled people must constantly fight for our rights as self-proclaimed testers and self-advocates. After I became disabled, I spent many years making myself small and getting my wheelchair out of the way. Given my intersecting identities of being a woman and a person of color, my presence literally and figuratively shrank. After years of firsthand experience of the barriers, discrimination, and ableism that exist in the world for people like me, I have become more intentional about making my presence known.

I travel frequently for work and pleasure, and as a disabled person, I know I must come prepared. New research shows that I’m not alone. Despite devoting hours to ensure that I have accessible accommodations prior to every travel experience, my basic biological needs are rarely met. From carrying my own toilet and diapers, to bathing from a cup, to having my wheelchair damaged en route, to not even being able to fit through a hotel room door, I get confirmation of the systemic failures of ADA enforcement everywhere I go. I’ve painstakingly learned the right questions to ask, the dispositions to look for in customer service, and how to advocate for my rights. I know what it’s like to have no voice, so I use what I’ve learned to help others, including newly disabled people who are struggling to navigate attitudinal, physical, and digital barriers.

People with disabilities are the largest minority group in our country, and the only group any one of us can become a member of at any time. There are 61 million disabled people in the U.S. and hundreds of millions of others who care for them. Disabled people are diverse—crossing identities of age, ethnicity, gender, race, sexual orientation, and socioeconomic status—and wield considerable purchasing power. We are working and living in the same spaces as people without disabilities, but our needs are consistently ignored. Every day, we encounter people and businesses who treat us as subhuman, which can, too often, prevent us from even leaving our homes. It’s blaringly clear why we face the highest levels of isolation and depression.

There are a lot of negative perceptions around ADA testers, but let me be clear: Deborah Laufer, the respondent in the upcoming case, is an unsung hero. She is advocating for people she will never meet, people who will never be able to thank her personally, and people who are not even disabled yet.

ADA testers, like Deborah Laufer and myself, are partners, helping businesses be intentionally inclusive. We are not only guiding their reputation and risk management but also bringing in new revenue streams. Disabled people rely on one another to signal where we feel safe and welcome. If I receive accessible accommodations and leave a good review, I’m opening doors to a vast consumer market. If I can’t get into a lobby, hotel room, restroom, or pool, I alert others so they don’t have to feel the shame and guilt of being an afterthought—or no thought at all. We may not always bring a lawsuit, but someone is always looking for diversity, equity, inclusion, accessibility, and belonging.

While this may be perceived as a burden, it should be a central paradigm for every person and business. This is the transformation that’s required to prepare our society for the next generation, including a growing population of disabled people and an untapped loyal job market. The conversation around disability must shift from cost to value, from liability to innovation potential.

The disability community deserves—and is entitled to—a better everyday life, and ADA testers are critical to ensuring the promise of the ADA is fully realized. We don’t get money or fanfare for successful complaints. What we do get is the knowledge that we are knocking down one more barrier to disabled people’s human rights. After 33 years of the ADA, we should not have to do this work, but this is the reality we face.