Airlines need to do more to make business travel accessible for all

This article is part of a series for National Disability Employment Awareness Month produced in collaboration with Making Space CEO and disability rights advocate Keely-Cat Wells. These pieces examine the barriers that disabled people face to participating fully and thriving in the workforce, as well as potential structural solutions. The illustrations for this series were created by Dana Chan, an artist discovered through the Making Space platform.

Flying as a disabled person is an experience that challenges my patience, resilience, and determination in ways that most people can scarcely imagine. I remember my first flight after my car crash—a moment that was supposed to signify a new chapter of independence. It was traumatic to say the least. But what’s worse is that here I am, over two decades later, asking: Why hasn’t anything changed?

Let me take you through what it’s really like. For us, the obstacles begin long before we even get to the airport. Airlines seem to operate in a realm of ambiguity when it comes to their policies for disabled travelers. Each airline has its rules, sometimes buried deep in the small print and, worse still, in inaccessible web pages.

It’s like navigating an obstacle course of conflicting information—one that’s nearly impossible to get through. And if you do manage to get past these barriers, you still face a multitude of other obstacles: Maybe you have the wrong type of battery for your wheelchair, the wrong medication, or simply the wrong kind of disability. Any one of these can result in being denied boarding. By the time we reach the airport, we’re already mentally exhausted, bracing ourselves for what’s next—a reality that, for certain neurotypes, is already overwhelming.

Airport security can feel invasive, veering into the realm of the unacceptable. I’ve lost count of how many times my friends have been reduced to tears by prying questions about their medical history or stomas, for example.

And then there’s the airplane itself. Boarding the plane itself feels like stepping into a space that was never designed with us in mind. Transferring from our custom wheelchairs to a narrow, unsupportive aisle chair is a nerve-wracking ordeal, often made worse by inadequately trained staff. Then there’s the moment when our wheelchairs—our mobility, freedom, and legs—are taken away and loaded into the cargo hold. Imagine arriving at your destination to find that your legs have been “lost” or damaged. This fear is not hypothetical for us. It’s a constant reality.

Last year, my worst fear came true when my chair was broken beyond repair—not just once, but three times. It was a breaking point that led me to start the “Rights on Flights” campaign. The Rights on Flights campaign aims to eliminate accessibility barriers for disabled travelers.

We advocate for systemic changes such as better staff training, accessible design commitments from manufacturers, and policy improvements like the ‘Assisted Air Travel Act’ that we drafted to help improve the current UK legislation that doesn’t go far enough to protect disabled people’s rights. The campaign also promotes innovations like the Air4All system, a space on board an aircraft, which would enable wheelchair users to remain in their chairs and to fly with dignity and safety.

This summer, our production company, Making Space Media, co-produced a documentary called Sophie Morgan’s Fight To Fly with Reese Witherspoon’s company, Hello Sunshine, to expose the shocking failings of the airline industry. The impact has resonated far beyond the disabled community, forcing a long-overdue conversation in the UK, where we are now working closely with the UK government, and beyond

For non-disabled travelers, air travel is just another routine. But for us, it’s a gamble—every single time. Will my chair survive the journey? Will I be treated with dignity? Will I be able to board and deplane without incident? These questions hang over every flight, turning what should be a simple journey into a complex emotional and physical ordeal.

But this issue goes far beyond personal inconvenience; it has profound implications for our professional lives, too, as air travel isn’t a luxury for many disabled professionals—it’s a necessity. Conferences, client meetings, networking events, and the job itself may require us to be mobile. This year alone I have needed to travel to Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and more. Yet, the risks associated with flying often force us to make an impossible choice: Do we put our safety and dignity on the line, or do we miss out on career opportunities?

Keep in mind, this is a conundrum only afforded to us who can physically and mentally endure a flight. What about the disabled individuals who can’t? If we can’t travel, we’re effectively shut out of entire career paths.

The inaccessibility of air travel is a barrier to employment and recruitment, retention, and performance for disabled employees. In an era of growing labor shortages, overlooking the disabled workforce is more than a failure of diversity and inclusion; it’s a strategic failure, too.

When a mobility aid is damaged during a flight beyond violating our independence, this has a ripple effect, costing companies financially in terms of lost productivity. It’s a lose-lose situation.

The airline industry needs to face a reckoning. We need systemic change. This starts with policy reform and extends to designing aircraft and airport infrastructure that accommodate everyone. Spaces for wheelchairs onboard, accessible restrooms, and dignified boarding processes should be standard, not a luxury. Training for airline staff is equally crucial. Assistance must be delivered with competence and empathy. This means ongoing training developed in consultation with disabled travelers, ensuring effective and respectful support.

Airlines must be held to high standards when it comes to the treatment of disabled passengers and the handling of mobility devices. Too often, when things go wrong, it’s the disabled traveler left to pick up the pieces. There needs to be a system of recourse that doesn’t place the burden on us to fight for our rights with compliance issues handled with the urgency we deserve, compensation meeting our needs, and repercussions for the industry when it fails us.

And who better to hold the industry to account than their peers? If corporate America leveraged its influence in this space and made their chosen carriers guarantee safety and dignity to their employees with disabilities, you can bet your bottom dollar higher standards of care would be given.