Most communicators I know don’t naturally think in technical ways. We tend to gravitate toward creative, people-focused thinking, and although there are best practices and guidelines that we are encouraged to follow, there is usually flexibility to go around them if we want to.
In 2012, I wanted to expand my skills, so I completed a certificate in web design and development. I originally thought it would be something I would do within the communications space, but creating websites ended up being my job for a couple of years. Transitioning from communications to a very technical position was hard for me. I struggled to remember which pieces of code to apply where and when to use specific functions. I was always good in school and learning, so not being naturally able to figure out web development shook my confidence and made me question whether I really was as intelligent as I thought.
For about 10 years, I worked in the technology field in a variety of roles, which helped me become more comfortable thinking in a technical way. I discovered how my communications background helped me articulate ideas, ask questions, present training, and translate technical information to a variety of audiences.
I was introduced to accessibility when I first started in web development. It was only mentioned in my courses, so it wasn’t top of mind when I was trying to just get my code to work. I was fortunate that the mentor assigned to me in my first web job was the organization’s accessibility expert. Doug Tschetter instilled in me that good design needs to be accessible, and I’ve carried that with me for over 12 years. In every position since, I’ve sought out opportunities to deepen my accessibility knowledge and apply it to whatever I create.
This journey taught me something crucial about why accessibility feels so difficult for communicators.
A few months ago, I started thinking deeply about my career, all the positions I’ve had, and where I am now. I thought about how learning and applying digital accessibility practices is exciting for me. I also thought about the struggles I see my communications friends having as they are just starting to learn about it. And then it clicked—they probably haven’t had a chance to work deeply in the technology space, and haven’t been forced to adapt and think in a more structured, technical way. Digital accessibility is often perceived as “technical,” and they believe they need to figure it out on those terms, which can be intimidating.
Here’s what I realized: most digital accessibility training is presented through a technical lens, not a communications lens. Traditional training says things like “ensure your heading hierarchy follows proper HTML structure” or “add alt text.” But communicators think differently. We’d naturally ask: “What’s the story I’m telling through these headings?” or “How do I describe what this image conveys for someone who can’t see it?”
This disconnect makes accessibility feel harder than it needs to be. We’re being asked to learn a new skill using a framework that doesn’t match how we naturally process information.
That was my drive for putting together Luminary Content. Learning digital accessibility as a communicator shouldn’t feel hard, overwhelming, or frustrating. It should be viewed as building on the practices, skills, and knowledge we already have. My career path gives me a lens for seeing what accessibility information is helpful to know in your role and what is geared more toward those in the technical space.
My hope is that I can help communicators learn and grow so that digital accessibility isn’t seen as just another thing to do. It’s not an extra. My dream is that someday, it’s not even considered a separate thing, but just a natural part of good communications—the way considering your audience and crafting clear messages already is.
If this resonates with you, I’d love to have you follow along as I share what I’m learning about making accessibility accessible to communicators.
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