Against the Wind: Beating the Statistical Odds to Become an Educated Disabled Professional
I was at a professional conference recently and a presenter noted the percentages of disabled workers and disabled adults with a Bachelor's Degree or higher. When I was growing up, there wasn't any expectation that I was going to join the workforce because of my disability. When I was in high school, my peers questioned that a lot because they could see what I was capable of every day and they also acted as if I wasn't disabled. Years later, I went to college on my own volition and knew I'd have to join the workforce to pay for my Bachelor's Degree. There was a deeply ingrained narrative in my head about my abilities and about working. I knew I was going against the odds and the narrative. When I heard how much the stats supported those odds, it gave me pause. I got curious and looked up the stats herein.
“Half of all people with a disability were age 65 and over, nearly three times larger than the share for those with no disability” (U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics). For the sake of argument, let's say that group is mostly retired (take that as anecdotal and not factual). That's still almost 28% of the working age disabled population who aren't in the workforce. And, I know plenty of people over 65 still work. This also is a solid reminder that if you're not disabled yet, you may become disabled as you age.
“In 2025, about 24 percent of all people with a disability had completed a bachelor's degree or higher compared with about 42 percent of those with no disability” (U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics). When I was doing my undergraduate studies, I'd heard something to the effect that if you have a college degree, you're in the upper 5% of the world (I haven't verified that statistic), this stuck with me because I knew I was already going against the narrative of “you can't” by going to college and planning on a ministry career. Now, it felt like an even bigger deal to do something I wasn't expected to do and to do something not everyone had the opportunity to accomplish.
When I heard about the disability labor and degree statistics at that conference presentation, I felt it deeply because it touched a part of me that's never forgotten that I wasn't supposed to do any of the things I've done. In my early forties, I can say that I've had two careers, a Bachelor's Degree, and a Master's Degree. I've exceeded the odds and I'm still asking whether or not I belong. In a recent post, I calculated that I've managed over 60 people in my professional life, I was the director of two libraries, and acting director for a third, I've been a board president for two organizations, and somewhere deep within, I'm still fighting the odds and the narrative of “you can't.”
I can. I have. I will continue to do so.
“Across all age groups, people with a disability were much less likely to be employed than were those with no disability” (U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics). I've beaten the odds on several occasions and multiple benchmarks. Part of my complex trauma comes from disability experiences and professional challenges. “The unemployment rate for people with a disability was double the rate for those with no disability” (U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics). I know what it takes to build a career with a disability and the trauma of familial dysfunction haunting your every moment. I know what it takes to do that again and rebuild after you fail. Not only did I rebuild, I succeeded in ways I'd only dreamed of as a kid (well, sort of, I dreamed of being a rockstar and a professional wrestler).
Part of my success story was learning from what didn't work out for me and letting it motivate me. “Workers with a disability were nearly twice as likely to work part time as workers with no disability” (U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics). When I first started my library career, it was deeply humbling because I was starting from scratch. I worked anywhere I could gain experience and a paycheck. At one point in the beginning, I had five jobs simultaneously. I worked at one library Monday through Friday. I worked at another library on weekends and evenings, I took meeting minutes for two organizations (a highly educational experience I must add), and I worked seasonal retail (that's not on my resume because I felt like I lost a bit of myself, but they didn't want me to leave).
To put it bluntly, I worked my ass off to beat the odds against me as an educated, disabled professional, who occasionally gets in his own way. “Workers with a disability were more likely to be self-employed than were those with no disability” (U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics). This stat stood out to me in a different way than the other stats. My first thought when reading that was that it's probably easier to build your own accessible workspace than to find one. I was giving a talk recently and I acknowledged that I have a massive chip on my shoulder because the only thing that's ever been handed to me for being disabled was a head start in the 40-yard dash in grade school (which I didn't win).
In order to beat the statistical odds and become a disabled professional with two degrees and over half a decade in organizational leadership, I had to overcome systemic ableism, internalized ableism, negative self beliefs, all or nothing thinking, physical barriers, invisible barriers, the belief that drive is a bad thing (I remember where I was when I learned that one), a multitude of trauma responses that make it hard to savor my success. And, I say that as if I'm not still in the middle of the journey.
“Mountains that we moved…Caught like a wildfire out of control…'Til there was nothin' left to burn and nothin' left to prove…. Wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then…Against the wind…We were runnin' against the wind” (Bob Seger, Against the Wind)
Arguably, I still have at least another twenty five years before I can even sniff the idea of retirement. It could be way longer because my latest calculation tells me I'll be paying for my two degrees, which put me in the minority of disabled professionals in the US, until I'm dead. I've come a long way from the days of “I can't work,” and my body reminds me daily that twenty five years is a very long time to sustain the pace that I've had to maintain to overcome the odds. I've done a lot of things I “can't do” on stubborn willpower, so I suppose I'll do that too.
Citations from: People with a Disability: Labor Force Characteristics Summary - 2025 A01 Results https://share.google/w0jSRXn7D2GJ33hA5
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