Some days, I walk into work without a visible mobility aid. Other days, I rely on a cane—because of pain, fatigue, distance, or how my symptoms are presenting that day. What does not change is my competence, ambition, or professional value. What often does change is how workplaces respond.
This is the reality for ambulatory mobility aid users: people who can walk, and sometimes run, jump, or climb, but who rely on canes, crutches, or wheelchairs in certain environments or under certain conditions. It is a disability experience that sits squarely at the intersection of bias and outdated workplace norms.
We are not “faking it” on the days we use support. We are not “better” or “less disabled” on the days we do not. The only thing that changes is our access needs.
The Problem With Consistency as a Measure of Legitimacy
Many workplaces still operate on a narrow definition of disability—one that assumes it must be permanent, visible, and consistent to be real. That definition leaves little room for chronic pain, fluctuating conditions, or bodies that constantly adapt to environments that were never designed with them in mind.
This conditioning not only shapes policies; it shapes people. Internalized ableism shows up quietly at work. It sounds like:
Don’t ask for the accommodation yet.
Stand through the meeting; it’s easier than explaining.
Leave the cane at home so no one questions you.
It is the belief that needing support makes you “difficult,” that being consistent matters more than being sustainable, and that being easy to manage is safer than being honest.
For ambulatory mobility aid users, the fear is often about perception. If I use a cane today but not tomorrow, will colleagues think I’m exaggerating? Will a manager question my reliability? Will asking for flexibility reinforce an unspoken belief that I am “too much”?
These fears are reinforced by workplace cultures that equate productivity with physical endurance and disability with permanence.
The Hidden Cost of “Pushing Through”
As a result, many Disabled professionals underuse the very tools that allow them to perform well. We attend meetings in pain. We avoid mobility aids on long days. We absorb the friction of inaccessible offices, travel, and events because we do not want to be accused—explicitly or implicitly—of “faking it.”
What looks like resilience from the outside is often self-sacrifice disguised as professionalism.
The consequences are not always immediate. They show up later as flare-ups, burnout, missed workdays, or long-term health decline. When someone finally asks for accommodations—often at a breaking point—it is framed as sudden or inconvenient, rather than preventative.
This is how organizations lose talent quietly: by rewarding silence over sustainability.
Designing for Variability, Not Endurance
Workplaces still measure performance by physical presence rather than output. Leadership potential is tied to stamina, travel, and visibility. Networking happens in spaces that require standing, walking, or navigating long distances without rest.
When fluctuating access needs are misunderstood, Disabled professionals are pushed out of opportunity—not because they cannot do the work, but because the work is designed around a myth of physical consistency.
The irony is that mobility aids and accommodations do not reduce performance. They protect it.
Organizations that are serious about inclusion do not wait for employees to reach a breaking point. They design for variability from the start. That means:
Training managers to understand fluctuating conditions, so “sometimes” is recognized as a legitimate access need rather than a credibility issue.
Separating productivity from physical endurance and evaluating performance based on outcomes, not stamina.
Building flexibility by default—seating in meetings, hybrid or remote options, adaptable schedules, and accessible events—without requiring disclosure or justification.
Trusting Disabled employees’ self-knowledge instead of demanding repeated proof of pain or limitation.
Assuming varied access needs when planning travel and events, rather than retrofitting accommodations after someone opts out.
What Needs to Change
Ambulatory mobility aid use challenges a deeply ingrained workplace myth: that the ideal worker is physically consistent, endlessly resilient, and unaffected by their environment.
Some days I use a cane. Some days I do not. What remains constant is my expertise, leadership, and value.
When workplaces learn to accommodate variability instead of punishing it, they unlock better performance, stronger retention, and deeper trust—not just for Disabled employees, but for everyone.
The future of work is not about providing pain. It is about designing environments where more people can do their best work—sustainably, honestly, and without fear.