We Don’t Need to Be Inspiring to Deserve to Be Human

A soft, warm-toned photo of a woman seen from the side, sitting outdoors and writing in a notebook with mountains in the background. Over the image is large white text that reads, “We Don’t Need to Be Inspiring to Deserve to Be Human,” with the word “Inspiring” circled and underlined in yellow. At the top is the name “Signable Vi5ion Inc.” and the handle @signablevision. At the bottom left is Leah Riddell’s name, and at the bottom right is the SignAble Vi5ion logo.

Share This Post

People often tell me I’m “so inspiring.”

They usually mean it kindly. I know that.
But over time, I’ve learned that this word carries a quiet weight, one that doesn’t always feel human.

When someone calls a Deaf person inspiring, what they are often responding to is not who we are, but what we’ve survived. They are reacting to the barriers we’ve had to navigate, the extra labour we’ve had to carry, the systems that weren’t built for us. And instead of questioning those systems, the focus shifts to our ability to endure them.

That’s where something subtle happens.

The story becomes about resilience, not responsibility.

Inspiration can feel good in the moment. It’s warm. It’s emotional. It lets people admire someone without having to change anything. But admiration without action quietly keeps the same barriers in place. It allows workplaces, schools, and organizations to say, “Look how well they’re doing,” instead of asking, “Why did they have to struggle in the first place?”

Humanity doesn’t require heroism.

I don’t want to be seen as exceptional just for showing up, working, parenting, leading, or creating. Those are ordinary human things. When Deaf people, or disabled people, are framed as inspiring for simply living our lives, it sends an unintended message: that our lives are unexpected, that our participation is a bonus, that our presence is remarkable rather than normal.

But we are not here to be admired.
We are here to belong.

Real inclusion doesn’t sound like applause. It sounds like planning. It looks like accessible meetings, sign language built into communication, clear information shared in ways everyone can access. It shows up in policies, budgets, leadership decisions, and everyday practices.

That is what dignity looks like.

At SignAble Vi5ion, we don’t train organizations to feel inspired by Deaf people. We train them to work with us as equals, to build communication systems that don’t require anyone to be brave just to participate.

Because humanity is not something you earn by overcoming barriers.

It is something you deserve by existing.

More To Explore

A professional sits at a table and gestures with one finger raised during a conversation. Large white text reads “Being Told Later Is Not the Same as Being Included,” with a yellow underline beneath the title. SignAble Vi5ion Inc. branding appears at the top, with Leah Riddell’s name and the SignAble Vi5ion logo at the bottom.

Being Told Later Is Not the Same as Being Included

This takes the last blog one step further, but it isn’t the same issue. The last one was about participation in the room. This one is about what happens when information is constantly passed to a Deaf person after the moment has already happened. I have heard some version of this many times throughout my life and work. “I’ll tell you later.” Usually, the person means well. A

Read More »

Access to the Room Is Not Access to the Conversation

Sometimes we think accessibility is complete once everyone is in the room. The interpreter is booked. Captions are available. The Deaf employee has been invited to the meeting. Everything looks accessible, so we assume the job is done. But being able to enter the conversation and being able to participate in it are two different things. I’ve been in meetings where an interpreter was right there, but people

Read More »