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disability rights
As Trump and Musk Flood the Zone, Solidarity Is Our Life Raft
When they manufacture chaos to divide us, we must recognize it as a desperate attempt to prevent us from building the collective power they fear.
Feb 07, 2025
These first 100 days in any presidency is a statement. A statement made for one's supporters who then cheer in response. U.S. President Donald Trump made a clear statement when he pardoned everyone involved in the assault on the capitol on January 6, 2021. Many have become concerned the message is that political violence on behalf of Trump will be forgiven, condoned, and even encouraged. No doubt his most fervent supporters are receiving the message and have already vowed revenge.
During these first 100 days the messages are also for those who did not vote for the president. Past administrations have often gone to extremes to find a way to include someone in their cabinet from the opposite party, an expression of a political olive branch, a promise to work together, across differences in priorities and ideologies. Here, Trump is sending the message that anyone who has ever even as much as thought in ways that were not in favor of him are in danger, in danger of losing their jobs, and even in physical danger as he prioritized removing security clearances from Gen. Mark Milley and Dr. Anthony Fauci.
We are receiving statements, and many of us are left with a set of chaotic destructions to try to untangle and make sense of. The shock and awe, the flooding of the zone that Steve Bannon and others have articulated is playing out. We know their playbook, yet we find our emotions played with regardless. As an already exhausted Stephen Colbert noted on his show on January 30, this isn't our first rodeo. We know how they will push us around with the 24-hour disorienting news cycle, yet somehow we're still receiving a concussion. Even when we can anticipate trauma, it doesn't negate the impact on our bodies—individual and collective.
Trump's entertaining charades, his absurdly chaotic and nonsensical yet mesmerizing performance, leaves us breathless and tells us a lie about our neighbors being our enemies rather than our greatest assets.
On January 29, we saw 67 bodies, 67 lives become extinguished in a tragic crash where an army helicopter crashed into plane landing from Wichita, Kansas in D.C. The country grieved the unimaginable. The first major airline incident since 2009. I know most of us held each other extra close at the news, and our hearts broke for all those whose future would never be the same, who are enduring the unimaginable grief of losing someone who is everything to them.
Yet before families could even begin to process their losses, with a racist and ableist fervor, Trump seized this tragedy as another opportunity to divide us. Without evidence, he blamed diversity initiatives and disabled people—a claim that is unabashedly in opposition of reality. The New York Times reported that staffing shortages are the more pressing concern, with federal agencies struggling for years to fill key positions at the Federal Aviation Administration. The type of staffing that had one air traffic control worker managing both helicopters and planes is reportedly not uncommon, pointing to systemic issues rather than Trump's manufactured and dangerous crisis about diversity in the workplace.
This administration's strategy is clear: Create chaos, place blame on marginalized communities, and hope we're too exhausted to see through the smoke and mirrors. Meanwhile, federal workers are being pressured—by Elon Musk's DOGE initiative no less—to accept questionable "Fork in the Road" resignation offers, further destabilizing our institutions and the people who keep them running. Ironically these resignations are being forced as a way to save money while Elon Musk's company Tesla paid $0 in taxes in 2024.
The cruel irony is that diversity actually strengthens teams and improves performance—this isn't just rhetoric, it's backed by extensive research. Recent McKinsey studies show companies committed to diversity demonstrate a 39% increased likelihood of outperformance. Diverse teams bring unique perspectives that unlock innovation, enhance problem-solving, and create environments where everyone feels empowered to contribute their full expertise. When we artificially limit who can participate, we all lose.
But this administration isn't interested in evidence-based policy. If they were, we would see very different approaches across the board. Take trans healthcare, for example. The American Medical Association has explicitly stated that gender-affirming care is medically necessary, warning that "forgoing gender-affirming care can have tragic consequences." They've urged governors to oppose legislation prohibiting such care for minor patients, calling it "a dangerous intrusion into the practice of medicine." Yet instead of following medical expertise, we see continued demonization of trans youth and their families. This assault on evidence extends further—a harrowing war on science has been unleashed, with Trump officials now targeting even basic terms like "gender" and "disability" through the National Science Foundation.
As this administration wages war on scientific language and evidence-based policy, there is much chaos to weed through, and it is hard to know what to pay attention to. So much of these performances are really designed to exhaust us. To leave us feeling defeated. There are lots of questions about what resistance looks like at a time like this. Even questions as to whether resistance is possible.
My answer to these questions is: Of course there is resistance. In fact, there is what indigenous scholar Gerald Vizenor termed survivance. Right now, surviving IS resistance. When so many of our neighbors are directly threatened, their joy and their existence IS resistance.
These tactics from Trump and Musk are pointing toward how we need to strategize as a response. We need a politics of solidarity. Solidarity means seeing that for most of us who hold complex identities, we are seeing our rights be whittled away. This administration is deploying transparent strategies to turn us against one another even as we see the way elite billionaires—the same ones standing behind him during the inauguration, obstructing the view of his future cabinet—are the only ones likely to thrive. The price of eggs is not going down. Tariffs on our closest neighbors, and our greatest allies, have been put on a pause after another frantic performance that ate up airwaves, yet they loom—leaving the possibility of, in the near future, increasing prices on basic necessities in the United States due to these tariffs. Most of us who are not elite billionaires are unlikely to see our quality of life improve.
Yet, Trump's entertaining charades, his absurdly chaotic and nonsensical yet mesmerizing performance, leaves us breathless and tells us a lie about our neighbors being our enemies rather than our greatest assets. He wants us to forget that we need each other—that our strength lies in our connections, our differences, our willingness to stand together.
There is a lesson here, an insight into what we need to survive, what we need to ensure everyone in our community is safe, and also an insight into what one strategy of dehumanization is for this administration. When they blame disabled people for an awful tragedy like the plane crash on January 29, we must recognize disabled people as vital assets to our communities. When they deny healthcare to trans youth, we must loudly and actively speak out in support of our trans friends, neighbors, and family members. When they vilify immigrants, we must remember that we are—as the poet Gwendolyn Brooks wrote—each other's harvest.
But let's be clear: The road ahead will be brutal. As more of us face direct threats to our lives and livelihoods, things will likely get worse before they get even worse. Many of us—disabled people, trans youth, people of color, immigrants, women, educators, dedicated federal workers, and others targeted by this administration—are not safe, and that's not hyperbole. That's precisely why solidarity isn't just a nice ideal—it's a survival strategy. When they manufacture chaos to divide us, we must recognize it as a desperate attempt to prevent us from building the collective power they fear. When they try to exhaust us, we must lean on each other. When they push policies that threaten our very existence, we must hold onto each other tighter.
Our solidarity is not based on naive optimism but on the clear-eyed understanding that we cannot survive alone. In these dangerous times, coming together isn't just an option—it's our only path forward. They want us isolated, exhausted, and afraid. Instead, we choose each other. We choose to recognize that our disabled neighbors make our communities stronger. We choose to stand with trans youth and their families. We choose to see immigrants as vital to our collective future. This is not the easy path—it's the necessary one. And while solidarity alone cannot guarantee our safety, it remains our best defense against those who would rather see us divided and conquered.
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3 Reasons Using AI in Decision-Making Harms Low-Income Americans
All told, 92 million low-income people in the United States—those with incomes less than 200% of the federal poverty line—have some key aspect of life decided by AI.
Feb 01, 2025
The billions of dollars poured into artificial intelligence, or AI, haven’t delivered on the technology’s promised revolutions, such as better medical treatment, advances in scientific research, or increased worker productivity.
So, the AI hype train purveys the underwhelming: slightly smarter phones, text-prompted graphics, and quicker report-writing (if the AI hasn’t made things up). Meanwhile, there’s a dark underside to the technology that goes unmentioned by AI’s carnival barkers—the widespread harm that AI presently causes low-income people.
AI and related technologies are used by governments, employers, landlords, banks, educators, and law enforcement to wrongly cut in-home caregiving services for disabled people; accuse unemployed workers of fraud; deny people housing, employment, or credit; take kids from loving parents and put them in foster care; intensify domestic violence and sexual abuse or harassment; label and mistreat middle- and high-school kids as likely dropouts or criminals; and falsely accuse Black and brown people of crimes.
With additional support from philanthropy and civil society, low-income communities and their advocates can better resist the immediate harms and build political power needed to achieve long-term protection against the ravages of AI.
All told, 92 million low-income people in the United States—those with incomes less than 200% of the federal poverty line—have some key aspect of life decided by AI, according to a new report by TechTonic Justice. This shift towards AI decision-making carries risks not present in the human-centered methods that precede them and defies all existing accountability mechanisms.
First, AI expands the scale of risk far beyond individual decision-makers. Sure, humans can make mistakes or be biased. But their reach is limited to the people they directly make decisions about. In cases of landlords, direct supervisors, or government caseworkers, that might top out at a few hundred people. But with AI, the risks of misapplied policies, coding errors, bias, or cruelty are centralized through the system and applied to masses of people ranging from several thousand to millions at a time.
Second, the use of AI and the reasons for its decisions are not easily known by the people subject to them. Government agencies and businesses often have no obligation to affirmatively disclose that they are using AI. And even if they do, they might not divulge the key information needed to understand how the systems work.
Third, the supposed sophistication of AI lends a cloak of rationality to policy decisions that are hostile to low-income people. This paves the way for further implementation of bad policy for these communities. Benefit cuts, such as those to in-home care services that I fought against for disabled people, are masked as objective determinations of need. Or workplace management and surveillance systems that undermine employee stability and safety pass as tools to maximize productivity. To invoke the proverb, AI wolves use sheep avatars.
The scale, opacity, and costuming of AI make harmful decisions difficult to fight on an individual level. How can you prove that AI was wrong if you don’t even know that it is being used or how it works? And, even if you do, will it matter when the AI’s decision is backed up by claims of statistical sophistication and validity, no matter how dubious?
On a broader level, existing accountability mechanisms don’t rein in harmful AI. AI-related scandals in public benefit systems haven’t turned into political liabilities for the governors in charge of failing Medicaid or Unemployment Insurance systems in Texas and Florida, for example. And the agency officials directly implementing such systems are often protected by the elected officials whose agendas they are executing.
Nor does the market discipline wayward AI uses against low-income people. One major developer of eligibility systems for state Medicaid programs has secured $6 billion in contracts even though its systems have failed in similar ways in multiple states. Likewise, a large data broker had no problem winning contracts with the federal government even after a security breach divulged the personal information of nearly 150 million Americans.
Existing laws similarly fall short. Without any meaningful AI-specific legislation, people must apply existing legal claims to the technology. Usually based on anti-discrimination laws or procedural requirements like getting adequate explanations for decisions, these claims are often available only after the harm has happened and offer limited relief. While such lawsuits have had some success, they alone are not the answer. After all, lawsuits are expensive; low-income people can’t afford attorneys; and quality, no-cost representation available through legal aid programs may not be able to meet the demand.
Right now, unaccountable AI systems make unchallengeable decisions about low-income people at unfathomable scales. Federal policymakers won’t make things better. The Trump administration quickly rescinded protective AI guidance that former U.S. President Joe Biden issued. And, with President Donald Trump and Congress favoring industry interests, short-term legislative fixes are unlikely.
Still, that doesn’t mean all hope is lost. Community-based resistance has long fueled social change. With additional support from philanthropy and civil society, low-income communities and their advocates can better resist the immediate harms and build political power needed to achieve long-term protection against the ravages of AI.
Organizations like mine, TechTonic Justice, will empower these frontline communities and advocates with battle-tested strategies that incorporate litigation, organizing, public education, narrative advocacy, and other dimensions of change-making. In the end, fighting from the ground up is our best hope to take AI-related injustice down.
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It’s Long Past Time to End Subminimum Wages for Disabled Workers
Segregated, subminimum wage jobs deprive disabled people of the chance to know what we’re capable of when our needs are valued and met.
Jan 16, 2025
After years of advocacy from the disabled community, the Department of Labor is proposing a rule that would end the issuance of 14(c) certificates, which enable businesses to pay subminimum wages to disabled workers.
If you’re unfamiliar with Section 14(c) of the 1938 Fair Labor Standards Act, you might be shocked to learn that it is, in fact, legal to pay disabled workers below the minimum wage. Companies across the country can request 14(c) certificates that give them license to pay disabled workers far below poverty wages. It’s a practice that has been present for decades, but there is once again movement toward making 14(c) a thing of the past.
Ending this practice is long overdue, and is desperately needed to keep disabled people out of poverty. In the South, where my organization New Disabled South works, poverty is higher than anywhere else in the country. And there are more 14(c) certificates in the South than any other region in the nation. We know that disabled people live in poverty at twice the rate of nondisabled people—which means that there is simply no reason to keep disabled people in poverty by paying them poverty wages. It is unconscionable.
Calling this a “special” wage is an insult to the disability community, which deserves to thrive and live with dignity.
Proponents of 14(c) certificates have emphasized the supposed merits of these certificates, saying that they provide people with intellectual and developmental disabilities (IDD) the opportunities to work that they otherwise wouldn’t have. One argument that gets perpetuated often is that it’s better to pay folks with IDD something rather than nothing at all. This is perhaps the most disturbing justification imaginable—implying that sheltered workshops are sufficient options for people who “wouldn’t otherwise be employable.” In truth, segregated, subminimum wage jobs deprive disabled people of the chance to know what we’re capable of when our needs are valued and met. We rise to the occasion when employers, family advocates, caregivers, regulatory agencies, and legislators meet their responsibilities to us. Many more disabled people would be capable of competitive integrated employment—and more generally, would be better able to reach our highest potential—if we are first provided with fair wages, in addition to wrap-around support that allows us to improve our skills and do our jobs in an accessible environment.
Decades of research demonstrate that segregated, subminimum wage jobs generate higher costs for employers and worse outcomes for disabled people. Plus, employment rates for disabled people improve in states that end 14(c). What is truly needed is Competitive Integrated Employment (CIE), which ensures that disabled people get paid fairly and have opportunities for employment in their community, as opposed to being segregated from it. Many more of us would be capable of CIE if we were provided with the integrated opportunities afforded under Olmstead and the reasonable accommodations protected under the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), including those that teach and allow us to communicate via augmentative and alternative communication (AAC).
Arguments favoring the continued use of 14(c) certificates are primarily based on fear or misunderstanding of the current policy and programmatic landscape. The biggest misconception is that payments above subminimum wage will disqualify disabled employees from receiving the public benefits they require. However, two existing options for mitigating that possibility are ABLE Accounts and Medicaid “buy-in” programs.
ABLE accounts are savings accounts that allow disabled people to save money without it counting toward the asset limits associated with eligibility for SSI, Medicaid, SNAP, and other government assistance programs. Medicaid “buy-in” programs allow disabled workers to access, sometimes in exchange for a premium, the home- and community-based services that are not provided under employer-sponsored or other private health insurance plans. Forty-seven states and D.C. have Medicaid “buy-in” programs. No one should have to choose between keeping a job and keeping their healthcare, and this program makes it possible for disabled people to have both.
ABLE accounts and Medicaid “buy-in” programs must be expanded to eliminate disincentives to work. Income and asset limits associated with eligibility for government assistance programs must also be raised to align with the rising cost of living across the country, particularly for disabled people. But even in the absence of those policy changes, the finalization of DOL’s proposed 14(c) rule will still be beneficial.
This is what equity and inclusion looks like, not continuing the standard set by Section 14(c) for low quality of life, inequality, and economic suffering. Proponents of the 14(c) program refer to subminimum wages as the “Special Minimum Wage,” a stunningly offensive term aimed at diminishing the harm that paying these wages does to disabled workers. As of 2019, the majority of 14(c) employees were earning less than $3.40 an hour, or $213.76 per month, while—as I highlighted two years ago—the executive directors of many of these workplaces made five- and six-figure salaries. Calling this a “special” wage is an insult to the disability community, which deserves to thrive and live with dignity.
The Department of Labor is accepting public comment through January 17, meaning there is still time to encourage them to finalize the proposed rule and finally end the 14(c) program once and for all. To learn more about DOL’s proposed rule and how to submit comments by January 17, check out this Plain Language explainer and action alert from the Autistic Self Advocacy Network.
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