This reading challenged my assumptions about the relationship between disability and design. I’ve always seen assistive technologies as specialized tools adapted from mainstream innovations, but the suggestion that disability itself can inspire new directions in design was a refreshing and thought-provoking shift. It reframes disability not as a limitation but as a perspective, a source of insight that can benefit everyone. This reversal of influence invites us to see people with disabilities not only as users but also as collaborators in the design process.
One idea I found interesting was the coexistence of two design ideologies: one rooted in problem-solving and respecting constraints, and another that playfully challenges them. This balance resonates with many everyday experiences. Take elevators, for instance. Originally intended to solve mobility issues, they’ve become an expected convenience in buildings of all kinds. They represent an engineering mindset that respects accessibility constraints, yet their widespread use has also changed how we think about them. Elevators are now also aesthetic spaces. Designers often include mirrors, polished metal, ambient lighting, or even music, not because they help with accessibility, but because they enhance the experience.
The reading also discusses how the push for discretion in assistive devices, like smaller hearing aids, can ironically reinforce stigma. Trying to hide disability implies shame or abnormality, which is counterproductive.
The example of glasses was especially meaningful to me. I’ve seen firsthand how they function both as corrective devices and as fashion statements. Growing up, my siblings and parents all wore glasses, and I actually used to wear non prescription glasses as an accessory, but now that I actually have poor sight, I don’t like wearing glasses. I guess it’s human nature to want the freedom to choose, especially when it comes to fashion, which is all about personal expression. Now that I have to wear glasses out of necessity rather than choice, it feels different. I don’t like that the decision has been taken out of my hands.
The reading opened up broader conversations about involving fashion designers and aesthetic thinking in assistive technology. Why shouldn’t prosthetics be beautiful? Why not design hearing aids that are meant to be seen, not hidden?
Also I agree with the idea that we must be cautious about making technology overly complex in the name of accessibility, sometimes simplicity serves a broader audience better. I liked the example of the iPod. Its tactile minimalist interface made it accessible to more users, including those with visual impairments. I think if I had owned an iPod back when it was still popular, I would have really enjoyed the experience, especially because I’m quite indecisive. Having the order of songs chosen for me would’ve taken away the pressure of deciding what to play next, making listening feel more effortless and enjoyable.