After watching Rihanna’s Super Bowl Halftime performance alongside the ASL interpreter, Justina Miles, I was reminded of how much visibility matters when it comes to disability. The interpreter’s delivery demonstrated the power of representation on a global stage. As the first Black woman to bring that level of vibrancy to ASL interpretation during the show, Miles challenged assumptions about how disability is typically presented and who belongs in high-profile moments.
That moment prompted me to reflect on how disability often goes unseen in everyday life. Many people live with invisible disabilities, such as dyslexia or ADHD, that shape their experiences but are easy for others to overlook. I have high-functioning dyslexia, which means I am able to meet expected standards, but tasks like reading and writing require significantly more effort. During my studies, because I appeared to be coping, my difficulties were often missed, and I did not always receive the support I needed.
This experience is common for people with invisible differences. As Khairani Barokka notes, accessibility is often built around “standardised ideas of disability”, which leaves little room for those whose needs do not fit a visible or expected model. When support is tied to what can be easily recognised, those who fall outside these norms are frequently required to manage quietly, often at the expense of their wellbeing.
In higher education, this is reinforced by systems that prioritise independence and expect students to advocate for themselves from the outset. For students still navigating their own needs, this expectation can be particularly challenging, especially given that the burden of proof often falls on the student. Barokka suggests that when disability falls outside dominant or visible models, it becomes ‘unthinkable within access frameworks,’ a critique that closely aligns with my own experience of university support systems.
This resonates deeply with my experience as a Black woman with an invisible disability. My dyslexia was frequently overlooked, in part because assumptions about Black resilience and strength masked my need for support. The systems around me were not built with someone like me in mind.
Seeing a Black Deaf woman providing ASL interpretation at the Super Bowl disrupted that limited cultural imagination. It illustrated how visibility can expand who is recognised as deserving of access and care, and whose needs are taken seriously.
As an educator supporting students transitioning from college to university, I see inclusion not as lowering standards, but as making them achievable. In my teaching practice, I actively reinforce that it is acceptable to ask for support, that learning is not one-size-fits-all, and that navigating higher education is a shared process. For example, I provide lecture slides in advance, offer multiple formats for assignments, and ensure that all media references, such as videos, are fully accessible by including captions. This approach helps to make learning more inclusive and allows all students to engage with the material in ways that work for them.
Just as the Super Bowl moment broadened public understandings of accessibility, educational institutions must broaden their own approaches to support the full diversity of learners. True inclusion begins with recognising experiences that are often unseen and responding to them with intention and care.
References
- Barokka, K. (2017) ‘Deaf‑accessibility for spoonies: lessons from touring Eve and Mary Are Having Coffee while chronically ill’, Research in Drama Education: The Journal of Applied Theatre and Performance, 22(3), pp. 387–392.
- YouTube. (2023). Super Bowl Halftime Show 2023 – Rihanna (Barbados) with ASL Performer [online]. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZN7BeDUfrEU