05/26/2026
I have some really exciting news to share. 🌿
In July, I am planning to begin training through the I-ASC Practitioner Program — something that feels deeply aligned with both the work I do through Rooted Beginnings and the reason I created it in the first place.
Rooted Beginnings was born out of deep cognitive dissonance I could no longer ignore.
I was working inside systems that claimed to support disabled children and families… yet disabled voices were often missing from leadership entirely.
No disabled board members.
No neurodivergent leadership.
No meaningful DEIA work.
No “nothing about us without us.”
And yet the language of “inclusion,” “neurodiversity,” and “acceptance” was everywhere — in marketing, mission statements, fundraising campaigns, and carefully curated social media posts.
The more I worked inside these systems, the more I realized that compliance was expected from the adults, too.
Carefully chosen words.
Staying quiet to keep funding.
Performative inclusion.
Families and professionals speaking over disabled voices while claiming to advocate for them.
Too often, it became more about optics than action.
More about how things looked than what was actually happening for families behind closed doors.
And meanwhile, families are drowning.
Passed from agency to agency.
Placed on waitlists.
Sent to overburdened systems that often cannot meaningfully support them anyway.
Expected to fight for every accommodation, every service, every ounce of dignity.
Families are falling through the cracks every single day while organizations continue collecting funding in the name of support.
Speaking honestly about this has been incredibly isolating at times.
It is hard to exist in spaces where you are expected to soften your words to make systems more comfortable while watching families suffer in real time.
It is hard to challenge systems in a community where so many people depend on those systems financially or professionally.
And it is hard to continue showing up authentically when you know people may misunderstand your intentions simply because you are unwilling to stay quiet.
But I could not keep participating in cycles that prioritize appearances over people.
I stepped outside of traditional systems because I wanted to build something different.
Something relational.
Something human.
Something rooted in community, interdependence, and the belief that disabled people deserve access, autonomy, and meaningful participation in their own lives and communities.
And that is exactly why pursuing training through I-ASC feels so important to me.
Because this is also what happens when systems become gatekeepers of access.
Too often, innovative or alternative approaches are immediately dismissed with phrases like “not evidence-based” or “not research-supported” — while families are simultaneously being failed by the very systems claiming to protect them.
Organizations and governing bodies get to decide what communication is considered valid.
What methods are acceptable.
Who gets access.
Who gets believed.
Who gets a voice.
And historically, disabled people themselves have too often been excluded from those conversations.
That should concern all of us.
Especially when so many nonspeaking and unreliably speaking people are telling us — clearly and consistently — that they have thoughts, intelligence, preferences, autonomy, and rich inner lives that the world has underestimated.
I have watched verbal speech become the goal when the real goal should be effective communication in whatever form makes sense for the individual.
Because the truth is — all of us are multimodal communicators.
We gesture.
We point.
We text.
We write.
We use AAC, visuals, body language, movement, tone, and technology every single day.
We do not pathologize that in people without disabilities.
But when disabled people communicate differently, suddenly it becomes controversial instead of simply being another way to access connection, autonomy, and participation.
For me, this work has never been about compliance, normalization, or making people appear less disabled.
It has always been about access.
Access to communication.
Access to relationships.
Access to community.
Access to self-determination.
Access to rooms and conversations people were too often excluded from before.
And that has always been the heart of Rooted Beginnings. 💚