The holiday season is often portrayed as a time filled with family gatherings, travel, and joyful reunions. But for many disabled people, this time of year highlights an uncomfortable truth: the world is not designed for everyone to travel freely. While others pack their bags, book flights, or drive hours to see loved ones, people with disabilities are frequently excluded—not by choice, but by barriers that limit their mobility, safety, and independence. Inaccessible transportation systems, high costs, physical limitations, and logistical challenges mean that many disabled individuals spend holidays alone, even when they deeply wish to be with family.

Travel is a privilege many take for granted. Airports remain inconsistent in accessibility and still damage mobility devices at alarming rates. Wheelchair users face anxiety about arriving safely—not for themselves, but for their chairs, which are essential extensions of their bodies. Long car trips are unrealistic for many due to medical needs, fatigue, chronic pain, or inability to drive. Even bus and train systems vary drastically across regions, often lacking proper accommodations or operating with limited routes and schedules. These structural barriers create an emotional burden, sending the message that disabled people’s presence at family gatherings is optional rather than valued.

For those living far from family, the emotional toll can be profound. Loneliness during the holidays hits harder when society constantly emphasizes togetherness. Social media becomes a highlight reel of holiday parties, airport reunions, and family dinners—all reminders of what disabled individuals may long for, but cannot reach. This isn’t about jealousy or bitterness; it’s about grief for connection, tradition, and belonging. The problem isn’t disability—it’s that society still treats accessibility as an after‑thought rather than a fundamental right.

Yet there is hope. Inclusion does not have to stop at the doorway of a plane or the entrance of a family home. Communities, families, and friends can actively bridge gaps through connection and support. Virtual celebrations, volunteer transportation programs, local community events, and intentionally inviting disabled individuals into holiday plans all help reduce isolation. Most importantly, reaching out—not out of pity, but genuine care—reminds people that distance does not erase belonging. The holidays are meant to be a season of warmth, and everyone deserves a seat at the table, even if the path to that table looks different.

True holiday spirit means making space for those who are left out—not only in theory, but in practice. A world that values accessibility is a world where no one has to choose between safety and family, or independence and inclusion. Until that world exists, compassion and awareness are powerful tools for change. When we understand the barriers disabled people face, we can take steps—small or big—to ensure no one is forgotten during a season built around connection.

My Thought

Luckily for me, my family lives nearby, and I’m able to spend the holidays with them. But it’s upsetting to think about how many disabled people want to be with their families and simply can’t — not because they don’t care, but because our world still isn’t built with accessibility in mind. No one should be separated from loved ones because of barriers that could be prevented.

It’s already challenging enough for nondisabled people to travel during the holidays — the crowds, the stress, the long lines, the delays. So why do people assume holiday travel would be easier, or even possible, for someone with a disability? For many disabled people, the obstacles multiply. Airports are chaotic and often poorly equipped, and accessible transportation options are inconsistent. It’s already ten times harder for people with physical disabilities to travel by plane, and they are forced to hand over their mobility devices to people who may not know how to handle them. There’s no guarantee their device — their independence — will arrive intact or even usable. That uncertainty alone is enough to keep many disabled people from traveling.

I’m fortunate to have family close by, but I also have loved ones who live far away. It breaks my heart to know I can’t spend certain holidays with them no matter how much I want to. When I think about disabled people who don’t have anyone nearby, or who face even more barriers to travel, it hurts even more.

I don’t have all the answers, but if I imagine myself in that situation, I would try to make sure people aren’t alone. I would invite others to spend the holidays with me and help create a sense of community — even for those I might not personally know. We can build new traditions that include everyone, such as community holiday gatherings, open‑door dinners, and virtual celebrations. And for the people who aren’t able to make it to their families, I would create a community holiday day — a space where anyone who doesn’t have loved ones nearby can come together, share a meal, and feel included. No one should have to spend the holidays alone just because they don’t have family close by.

Question to Consider

How would you help somebody in this situation?

My Sources

    1.    U.S. Bureau of Transportation Statistics – Travel Patterns of American Adults with Disabilities (2022). (bts.gov (https://www.bts.gov/travel-patterns-with-disabilities?utm_source=chatgpt.com))     2.    WheelchairTravel.org – Airline Wheelchair Damage Statistics Update (2023–24). (wheelchairtravel.org (https://wheelchairtravel.org/airline-wheelchair-damage-statistics-update-october-2023/?utm_source=chatgpt.com))     3.    U.S. Department of Transportation – Secretary Buttigieg Supports Sweeping Protections for Airline Passengers with Disabilities. (transportation.gov (https://www.transportation.gov/briefing-room/secretary-buttigieg-announces-sweeping-protections-airline-passengers-disabilities?utm_source=chatgpt.com))

I wish everybody happy holidays!