The Problem When Digital Accessibility Is Just for Show

Scrolling through most corporate websites, you’ll probably find some version of an inclusion statement. Maybe it’s on the About page or as a banner during National AccessAbility Week.

It likely says the organization is “committed to accessibility,” supporting diversity, equity, and inclusion, and striving to create “an environment for all.”

They use the right terms. They mention WCAG. They talk about screen reader compatibility and inclusive design. On the surface, it feels like we’ve made real progress.

But when you start digging past the slogans and policies, try using their website with a screen reader, download a document on your phone, or find alt text on their social posts, you start to see the truth. And often, it’s not so pretty.

A lot of it is performative.

Accessibility isn’t about throwing around technical terms or publishing a strategy on an elegant microsite. It’s about whether real people, people with disabilities, can access the content, understand it, and engage with it fully and equally. And far too often, that’s still not happening.

One of the most obvious signs that an organization is only pretending to prioritize accessibility? A phrase like:

“We’ll make a few exceptions.”

It sounds polite. Accommodating, even. But if you work in accessibility or have had to request one of those “exceptions,” you know exactly how loaded that phrase is.

The real meaning behind “We’ll make a few exceptions”

When someone says this, what they’re really saying is, “We didn’t build this for everyone.”

It signals that accessibility wasn’t part of the original plan. That the default experience was made for non-disabled users and that anyone outside that mould will need to ask for something different. It puts the burden of inclusion on the user. It makes accessibility conditional. It frames it as a favour, not a right.

And that has real consequences.

Think of how often people are told, “If you need an accessible version, contact us.” That version is rarely ready right away. Sometimes, it never comes. Other times, the user has to disclose a disability, explain their needs, and wait, again, just to get basic access to information that should have been designed for everyone from the start.

When access is framed as an exception, people get left out. They fall through the cracks. And in many cases, they stop trusting the system altogether.

Real-world consequences: When accessibility is an afterthought

We don’t have to imagine what performative accessibility looks like. We’ve seen it play out, publicly and painfully.

Take the Rogers Communications nationwide outage in July 2022. At a time when millions of Canadians were without phone, internet, and emergency services, Rogers turned to social media to provide updates. The problem? Many of those updates were shared as images with no alt text. That meant screen reader users couldn’t access the information. In the middle of a national crisis, the information people needed most was locked in a format that left many out.

This wasn’t just a design oversight; it was a failure of trust. In transparency. In care.

Then, there’s the growing trend of organizations releasing strategic plans on flashy microsites. Visually, they’re stunning. But often, they’re riddled with animations that ignore reduced motion settings. They lack headings or proper structure for navigation. They feature download buttons that aren’t labelled clearly for screen readers. And worst of all? The full strategic plan is often embedded in an interactive “flipbook” PDF that isn’t tagged, searchable, or readable. It’s just scanned images, nothing more than a glossy digital brochure.

It might as well not exist for someone using assistive technology.

These are the moments where all those public statements about inclusion ring hollow. They reveal just how shallow the commitment really is.

Common phrases that signal performative accessibility

You can often tell when accessibility isn’t built into a system by the language people use. Here are a few common phrases and why they’re a red flag.

“We’re compliant with WCAG 2.1 AA, so we’re good.”

Compliance is a baseline, not a goal. A website might technically meet WCAG but still be confusing, frustrating, or impossible to use. This mindset treats accessibility like a checkbox instead of a practice rooted in real human experiences.

“We care about accessibility, but sometimes we have to make trade-offs.”

This usually means accessibility wasn’t considered from the beginning. When it’s framed as something to be sacrificed, it shows it was never a priority. And calling it a “trade-off” makes it sound reasonable when, in reality, it’s an excuse.

“We’ll fix that in a future update.”

Delaying accessibility is the same as denying access. When people need to engage with your content now, telling them to wait just means they’re left out. “Later” often becomes “never.”

“We tested with a screen reader, so it’s accessible.”

Screen readers are one piece of the puzzle. If your testing doesn’t include real disabled users with different needs, devices, and experiences, you’re not testing for accessibility. You’re testing for optics.

“If someone needs access, they can contact us.”

Putting the onus on users to request accessibility is not inclusive. It’s exhausting. And it sends a clear message: “We didn’t think about you, and now it’s your job to fix it.”

Why performative accessibility is so common

It’s easy to see why so many organizations fall into this trap. Performative accessibility is cheaper. It doesn’t require rethinking systems, retraining teams, or rebuilding products. It’s a way to check the box and move on without making real change.

But this approach always comes with a cost.

When people are excluded or ignored, they lose trust in the brand. When your accessibility claims don’t match the actual experience, it damages credibility. And when you only treat accessibility as a legal obligation, you miss the opportunity to build better, more innovative, more human systems.

What authentic accessibility looks like

True accessibility isn’t reactive. It’s proactive. It’s not about making “a few exceptions.” It’s about building systems where exceptions aren’t needed in the first place.

Authentic accessibility:

• Starts in the planning stage, not after launch.
• Involves disabled people in the process as testers, designers, developers, and decision-makers.
• Is part of your definition of quality, not something that gets added “if there’s time.”
• Is measured not just by compliance but by actual usability.
• Is supported by training, budget, and accountability.

And most importantly, it’s something you do even when no one’s watching.

All of this to say…

Accessibility isn’t a feature. It’s a value. And if that value only shows up in your press releases and not in your actual work, then it’s not really a value at all.

We need to stop using phrases like “we’ll make a few exceptions.” We need to stop releasing important updates in inaccessible formats. We need to stop designing for what looks good and start designing for what works for everyone.

Because accessibility is not a special request, it’s a right. And if we’re serious about inclusion, it can’t be something we tack on at the end.

It has to be the way we do business.