No Longer Accepting Breadcrumbs

In June, the federal government issued an opinion that could unravel more than 25 years of progress for people with disabilities.

In June, the federal government issued an opinion that could unravel more than 25 years of progress for people with disabilities.

For over two decades, the Olmstead decision has protected the right of people with disabilities to live in their own communities instead of nursing homes, where conditions are often poor and independence is limited. Now that right is being reinterpreted, in ways that could let states walk away from it.

When something like that happens, a lot of us want to do something to fight back, to be heard. We just don't know what to say, or where or how to say it.

That question, how do everyday people actually get heard, is where United Voices began.

In the disability community, we know the power of a few people sitting around a table, coming up with ideas to fight the conditions people with disabilities face: lack of resources, healthcare, transportation, and everything in between. That's where it starts. Around the table, you figure out what you want to happen.

But ideas alone don't change anything. To ignite change, you have to reach people, and that means getting intentional about who needs to hear you. Do you want legislators to vote to protect home and community services? Do you want people outside the disability community to understand how important it is to live in your own home instead of a nursing home? Different audiences, different messages.

Then comes the hardest part: getting them to listen. This is where your story is your most powerful tool. Your lived experience establishes you as a trusted source, someone who knows firsthand why the issue matters. Your personality, your humanity, is what carries.

Put it all together and you have the advocacy messaging model: What do you want to happen? Who needs to change? How do they need to change? And how can you get them to listen?

By the end of the workshop, we had analyzed case studies of disabled influencers and started building our own advocacy messages.

And then something happened that reminded me why we come to the table together rather than alone. A participant offered an idea none of us had brought into the room: digital advocacy doesn't have to be framed as something we want or need to happen. It can be a tool for accountability.

The consensus was immediate. We're tired of thanking legislators for breadcrumbs, and we want them to know their negligence won't go unnoticed. The advocate who raised it lives in North Carolina, where more than 20,000 people are waiting for the Medicaid services that make community living possible. That waitlist is a state failure and a federal one.

You could feel the energy shift. The emoji claps filled the screen.

That spark is a big part of what came out of the workshop: creativity about how we advocate, how we spread awareness, and what our community can build when we do it together.