The Most Dangerous Question in Accessibility
Why "Can You Walk?" Is Often the Wrong Conversation
By Prince DeAndre, Duke of Hanumanteshwar
July 3, 2026
There is one question that people living with hidden disabilities hear more often than almost any other.
"Can you walk?"
On its surface, it seems like a reasonable question.
In many situations, it may even sound helpful. A member of the airport staff is trying to understand how best to assist a passenger. A stranger sees someone rise from a wheelchair and assumes they are recovering. A traveler stands, reaches for a bag, or takes a few careful steps, and someone concludes that assistance is no longer necessary.
The question itself is rarely intended to offend.
The problem is that it asks the wrong thing.
For millions of people around the world, the issue has never been whether they can walk.
The issue is what walking costs them.
That distinction changes everything.
Living with HLA-B27 spondyloarthritis has taught me that mobility is not measured by whether I can place one foot in front of the other. It is measured by how much pain follows. It is measured by the inflammation that may last for days. It is measured by the energy I will not have tomorrow because I spent it today.
Many chronic illnesses work this way.
A person with multiple sclerosis may walk through an airport while knowing their balance could disappear without warning. Someone living with heart disease may be able to walk short distances while knowing prolonged exertion places dangerous strain on their body. A traveler undergoing cancer treatment may appear healthy while quietly managing overwhelming fatigue. Someone with severe arthritis may walk across the terminal, only to spend the next two days unable to recover from the effort.
None of those realities are visible.
Yet they are real.
That is why accessibility cannot be built around appearances.
The question should never be whether someone looks capable of walking.
The question should be whether the assistance they requested has already been assessed, approved, and arranged.
Once that request has been accepted, the conversation changes.
The role of the frontline employee is no longer to evaluate the passenger.
It is to deliver the service with professionalism, dignity, and kindness.
That protects everyone.
It protects passengers from having to explain private medical conditions to strangers.
It protects employees from making medical judgments they are neither trained nor authorized to make.
It protects airlines and airports by ensuring consistent service rather than subjective decisions.
Most importantly, it protects trust.
Trust is the foundation of every accessibility program.
When a passenger requests assistance, they are placing trust in the system.
When the airline confirms that request, it is accepting responsibility for delivering it.
Every employee who meets that passenger becomes part of honoring that commitment.
The moment a traveler is asked to justify why they need assistance, that trust begins to erode.
It also creates another problem.
Many people living with hidden disabilities already spend much of their lives explaining themselves.
They explain why they parked in an accessible parking space.
They explain why they need priority seating.
They explain why they cannot stand for long periods.
They explain why they may appear healthy one day and struggle the next.
Air travel should not become another place where people are expected to prove what cannot be seen.
The future of accessibility will not be built by becoming better at identifying disability through observation.
It will be built by recognizing that observation has limits.
A wheelchair, a sunflower lanyard, an accessibility badge, or a request entered into an airline reservation system all exist for the same reason.
They reduce the need for explanation.
They allow the traveler to move through the journey without repeatedly defending their own reality.
Accessibility has never been about deciding who deserves help.
It has always been about honoring the commitment to provide it.
The question was never whether someone could walk.
The question was whether we were willing to believe them.
About the Author
Duke Hanumanteshwar
Writer & Memoirist | Independent Political Strategist for Conscious Governance | Founder, H1927LLC (Global Leadership, Mindfulness & Diplomacy) | Co-Author of A Royal Commitment | Cultural Diplomat & DEI Advocate