Accessibility: The Dimension of Inclusion We Often Get Wrong

Out of order lift at Teddington Station

Two weeks ago, I damaged my ankle playing netball and found myself navigating the world on crutches.

If you've read this week's Radio SLS 360, you'll know it wasn't easy. Doors that needed two hands. A buffet I couldn't serve myself from. Lifts that were out of service. And a moment on a train platform, frozen and in tears, that I won't forget in a hurry.

What struck me most wasn't the inconvenience. It was the invisibility. The sense that spaces, systems and environments had simply not been designed with me in mind. And the uncomfortable truth that my experience was temporary. For millions of people, this is just the world they live in.

That stayed with me. And it sat alongside something I was planning a few days later in a session on accessibility in events for Blackstone. The timing felt significant.

Inclusion Has Six Dimensions. Accessibility Is One of Them.

At SLS 360, we work with a framework that positions inclusion as a foundation and identifies six dimensions that together determine whether inclusion is actually happening in practice.

Those six dimensions are:

Accessibility — removing barriers so people can enter, engage and participate.

Equity — giving people what they need to participate, not the same as equality.

Diversity — the mix of people, identities, perspectives and experiences in the room.

Representation — whose voices, perspectives and needs shape the design of spaces.

Psychological Safety — feeling safe to disclose, ask for help, or step away without judgement.

Belonging — feeling accepted, valued and genuinely part of the environment.

These dimensions are interconnected. You cannot have genuine belonging without psychological safety. You cannot have equity without accessibility. Pull one thread and the whole fabric is affected.

So Why Does Accessibility Keep Getting Left Behind?

In my experience, accessibility is often treated as a compliance issue rather than an inclusion issue. It lives in a checklist. It gets addressed at the end of a planning process, if at all. It is the ramp bolted onto the side of a building that was designed without it.

And yet, when you look at the definition — removing barriers so people can enter, engage and participate — it is hard to argue that anything else matters if this isn't in place first.

You can have the most diverse room in the world. But if someone couldn't get through the door, or couldn't find somewhere to sit, or couldn't hear what was being said, or felt they had to mask a disability to avoid being seen differently, were they really included?

The answer is no.

The Link Between Accessibility and Psychological Safety

Accessibility and psychological safety are more closely linked than people often realise.

When environments are not accessible, physically, sensorially or cognitively, people face a choice. Do they disclose their needs and risk being seen as difficult or high-maintenance? Or do they say nothing, struggle through, and pay the price in energy, dignity and wellbeing?

I live with Ménière's disease. It affects my balance and hearing. On many days, I look completely fine. And I have been in plenty of rooms where I have made that exact calculation — is it safe to say something? Will it change how people see me?

What Getting Accessibility 'Right' Actually Looks Like

It is not just about ramps and lifts, though those matter enormously, and they need to actually work.

It looks like:

• Asking about access needs before an event, not as an afterthought

• Designing programmes, spaces and formats with different bodies and minds in mind from the start

• Normalising disclosure by making it easy, private and consequence-free

• Training people not just on what accessibility means, but on how to respond when someone has a need

• Reviewing your spaces honestly. Not to tick a box, but to ask 'Who cannot be here right now, and what would it take to change that?'

  
  

A Final Thought

My two weeks on crutches will end. My Ménière's won't. And somewhere between those two truths is the reason I do this work.

Inclusion is not built in the moments when everything goes smoothly. It is built in the moments when someone with a need walks through the door — or can't — and you decide what kind of environment you want to be.

Accessibility is not a nice-to-have. It is the foundation that makes everything else possible.

Want to explore what accessibility and inclusion look like in your organisation or events? Get in touch with the SLS 360 team at info@sls360.org.