What Happens If We Erase DEI?

When I was in school, I had an Individualized Education Plan (IEP) every single year. From elementary through high school, it was the thing that kept me from getting completely lost in the system. Without it, I would’ve been written off like so many other disabled students—quietly pushed to the side, expected to sink instead of swim. Along with the IEPs, I had educational assistants. Over the years, I worked with several—some better than others—but one in particular stands out: Jennifer. She didn’t just help me get through assignments. She helped me stay in the game. She wrote things down when I couldn’t, helped me organize thoughts when my dyslexia got in the way, and advocated for me when the system didn’t understand what I needed. Without her, I probably wouldn’t have made it through high school at all.

That was before AI. That was before voice dictation and writing tools that could help someone like me take control of their own voice. Now I use a computer to speak my thoughts, and an AI assistant helps shape them into something clear and readable. It doesn’t replace me—it supports me. And for the first time, I can express what I want to say without needing someone else to hold the pen. But I only have that now—as an adult. Most disabled people still don’t. And if we’re not careful, they never will.

Technology Can Change Lives—But Only If People Can Access It

AI tools have enormous potential for disabled people: A nonverbal person could use AI to translate thoughts into speech. Someone who can’t write or type could use dictation to create resumes, job applications, or stories. A person with dyslexia could use text-to-speech to navigate reading-heavy environments. But none of that matters if the tools never reach the people who need them. Technology doesn’t become accessible by accident. It becomes accessible when we fund it, when we teach it, and when we build systems that make it usable. And for years, a lot of that support has quietly come from DEI—Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion.

DEI Isn’t Just a Buzzword—It’s a Lifeline

Right now, there’s a national push to eliminate DEI programs. The reasoning? “It’s too expensive.” “It lowers standards.” “It’s politically motivated.” But what’s really happening is a dismantling of the structures that protect marginalized people—including the disabled. Here’s what DEI helps fund or support: IEPs that keep disabled kids in classrooms and out of institutional tracks. Workplace accommodations like assistive tech, modified workstations, and flexible schedules. Accessibility improvements in buildings, websites, and public spaces. Assistive technology programs—screen readers, speech-to-text, communication devices. Job training and employment services for people with disabilities. Inclusive housing design that supports independent living. In some recent legal arguments, even wheelchair ramps and elevators have been framed as “preferential treatment” that might not be required if DEI is eliminated. Let that sink in.

It’s Not Just About School or Work—It’s About Survival

Personal care services don’t usually come up in DEI debates, but they should. These are the services that help disabled people get out of bed in the morning—bathing, dressing, eating, using the bathroom. While the funding often flows through Medicaid, DEI plays a key role in making sure access is equitable and responsive—especially for those facing multiple layers of discrimination. If DEI is gutted, what happens to the people already falling through the cracks? The people who aren’t getting care now? Or who rely on advocacy and pressure from DEI-backed programs to stay housed, fed, and independent? This isn’t a theoretical concern. This is right now.

We’re Already Seeing the Effects

I know people in the disability community who are scared—and they have every right to be. DEI is under fire across the country, and with it goes the quiet scaffolding that has made it possible for people like me to succeed. For others, the fear is more existential: if the government can gut DEI protections, what’s stopping them from rewriting how the ADA works? Or defunding accessible programs entirely? Some people don’t know what’s happening. Others are too overwhelmed to make sense of it. And some—rightfully—are panicking. I’m somewhere in the middle. I want to believe the checks and balances will hold. I want to think that the ADA is safe. But lately, I’ve been less sure.

So What Now?

I’m not a policy expert. I’m just a disabled adult who got through school because I had an IEP, an assistant named Jennifer, and later—much later—some smart tools and the patience to figure out how to use them. But if we keep gutting the programs that made my story possible, then people like me won’t have a story to tell. They’ll be invisible again. Silenced. Dependent by design. If you’re in a position to defend DEI, do it. If you work in tech, design your tools for people who aren’t already at the front of the line. If you’re reading this and wondering why you should care—this is why: because real people’s futures are tied to policies that sound like politics until they’re gone. We’re not asking for special treatment. We’re asking to stay in the room.

If This Hit You—Share It

This isn’t just about me. It’s about all of us who’ve depended on support systems that are quietly being dismantled. If this post helped you understand what’s really at stake—or if you know someone who needs to see it—please share it. Don’t let this conversation fade. Disabled voices have been left out long enough.

Note: This post is being published on the Rolling with Scissors website and shared across all official Rolling with Scissors social media platforms. It’s also being posted to my personal Facebook page because the content goes beyond the show. If you’re reading it there, know that all updates and future conversations around this topic will continue on the blog at rwsradio.com . Please share the original link from the site if it resonates—let’s keep the conversation where it counts.