
Gen Z: The generation that calls everything out except ableismGen Z has built a global reputation for calling things out: racism, sexism, climate injustice, and gender inequality. They are the first generation to turn activism into an aesthetic and social responsibility into content, but when it comes to disability, our outrage seems to soften. ![]() Image credit: cottonbro studio on Pexels For a group that prides itself on empathy and progress, this certainly is a strange blind spot. The activism generation with one eye closedGen Z knows how to mobilise troops; they have reshaped conversations around body image, gender, and identity. They demand diverse representation from brands and influencers, and they hold people accountable online. Yet disability and the ableism woven into daily life still rarely make it onto the trending list. When it does, it is often reduced to inspiration porn or token awareness posts during Disability Pride Month. It is not because Gen Z does not care but because ableism remains invisible to those who do not have to navigate inaccessible systems, from poorly designed apps to social spaces that exclude anyone who is not “able-bodied.” Digital spaces, physical barriersSouth Africa’s youth live mostly online, but while Gen Z curates feed aesthetics and filters, they often forget about accessibility features such as captions, alt-text, and colour-contrast design. In the digital economy, accessibility is not just a compliance checkbox, but a creative necessity. This is because a captioned video reaches a wider audience, proper contrast makes the design inclusive and visually stronger, and alt-text tells a story that visuals cannot tell. Globally, differently abled creators have shown what is possible: viral influencers like Claudia Walder, founder of Able Zine, and local advocates such as Musa Motha are proving that access is not a limitation.
It is cool to care, but it is smarter to design for everyone. Why ableism still hides in plain sightMany young people have not had to think about disability. Schools and universities rarely model inclusion. Brands celebrate “diversity” with rainbow flags and melanin tones, but wheelchair ramps, sign-language interpretation, or neurodiverse hiring policies remain afterthoughts. Even digital culture, which prides itself on inclusivity, leaves people out. Live events without accessible transport, clubhouses with stair-only entrances, and job postings that ignore accommodation. It seems we have a whole generation fluent in empathy online but clumsy with it offline. If you have ever designed a poster without readable fonts, hosted an event without captions, or posted a TikTok without subtitles, you did not mean harm; you indirectly contributed to exclusion, and that is exactly the point: ableism is not always intentional, just very habitual. Gen Z can fix this and profit from itHere is the opportunity. Globally, differently abled consumers represent billions in spending power. Inclusive designs build brand loyalty, for creators, it expands reach, and for employers, it grows innovation. Gen Z, with its design instinct and digital fluency, is perfectly positioned to lead this shift. They are the ones shaping future workplaces, campaigns, and content strategies, and they already know how to make things trend. What if the next wave of viral culture were accessible by default? Imagine a South African influencer who normalises captions and image descriptions as part of their aesthetic. A youth brand that designs events with accessible routes and sensory-friendly spaces. Universities that treat inclusion as a creative challenge, not an obligation. From empathy to architectureThe next step for Gen Z is not to feel more, but to build better. Inclusion means designing from the start with everyone in mind, whether it’s an app, a workplace, or a social campaign. It means inviting differently abled voices into strategy rooms, not just featuring them in posts. When accessibility becomes culture, not charity, the conversation changes. So here’s a thought for South Africa’s creative generation: If you can curate a brand, a look, or a feed, you can curate inclusion too. If you can call out injustice, you can call out inaccessible design. If you can demand diversity, you can demand ramps, captions, and sign-language interpreters. Because the generation that calls everything out cannot keep quiet about ableism. When accessibility finally becomes part of our collective aesthetic, it won’t just look good, it will be good. About Jessica GbedemahJessica Gbedemah is a final-year public relations and communication management student at the University of Johannesburg. She is currently completing her work-integrated learning (WIL) at Decode Communications as a PR Intern. View my profile and articles... |