“But you don’t look sick”: Challenging default thinking & ableism at work

Originally posted on linkedin in August 2024

Jul 03, 2025

2025 marks 35 years since the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act. And yet, in so many ways, disabled people are still fighting to be seen, respected, and included—especially in the workplace.

Let’s be honest: if you live with a dynamic or non-apparent disability, you know the burden of uncertainty all too well. You’re navigating daily decisions around energy, accommodations, how much to disclose, and how to manage when your body or brain just doesn’t cooperate. And layered on top of that? Microaggressions like:

“But you don’t look sick.”

This isn't just a frustrating comment. It's a dismissal. It's a refusal to believe your lived experience because it doesn’t fit someone else's default picture of disability. And it’s one of many ways ableism quietly functions at work.

What is default thinking?

Most people are familiar with the idea of privilege, especially in conversations about race or gender. But what happens when we start thinking in terms of default?

Default thinking refers to the automatic patterns our brains use to make sense of the world. These defaults are deeply shaped by systems—heteronormativity, white supremacy, ableism, classism—and reinforced through culture, media, and education. They are the shortcuts that tell us who is "normal," whose needs are "standard," and who must justify their presence.

It’s the unconscious assumption that someone is straight, neurotypical, or able-bodied until proven otherwise. It’s not just a personal bias—it’s the context we’re conditioned into.

We are not born neutral. We are born into systems.

So while default thinking isn’t our fault, it is our responsibility to challenge because the consequences of default thinking are very real for people whose experiences fall outside those assumptions, especially disabled folks.

Ableism: More than just inaccessibility

Ableism is the set of beliefs and structures that devalue disabled people and define them as needing to be fixed, cured, or managed. It’s not just physical inaccessibility or outdated slurs—it’s baked into workplace norms, policies, and even well-intentioned behaviors.

Disability scholar M.R. Nario-Redmond (2020) defines ableism as:

“Attitudes, actions, and circumstances that devalue people because they are disabled or perceived as having a disability.”

Ableism shows up when:

We measure “professionalism” by one’s ability to perform consistently, without visible emotion or variation.
We equate flexibility with laziness.
We penalize people for needing different communication formats, working hours, or support systems.

It’s also why people with non-apparent disabilities often feel pressure to stay silent, worried about being doubted, dismissed, or disbelieved.

Dynamic disabilities are real

A dynamic disability is one that fluctuates in intensity, presentation, or impact, sometimes day to day, sometimes hour to hour. It’s not made up. It’s not exaggeration. It’s biology.

As someone who lives with both endometriosis and neurodivergence, I know this intimately. One moment, I’m fully functioning. Next, I might be in pain, overstimulated, foggy, or completely shut down. A cup of coffee, a stressful meeting, or a loud space can trigger an invisible storm inside me.

And here's the reality: knowing myself, my triggers, and my needs is only half the equation. The other half? A workplace that doesn’t pathologize my needs or punish me for being in a flare-up.

Dynamic disabilities aren’t unpredictable.
They’re inconsistent in ways we don’t control.
That doesn’t make us unreliable—it makes us human.

Examples of fluctuating & non-apparent disabilities

Dynamic disabilities may include (but aren’t limited to):

Migraines
Endometriosis, PCOS
Multiple Sclerosis
Autism, ADHD, Dyslexia
Anxiety and Depression
Long Covid

Other non-apparent disabilities might include:

Chronic illness (e.g., Crohn’s, lupus)
Learning disabilities
Mental health conditions
Post-viral syndromes
Neurodivergence

Rethinking inclusion: From DEI to true allyship

If we want to build truly inclusive workplaces, we have to move beyond performative DEI checkboxes and into ongoing, relational allyship. Remote work truly increases accessibility for employees. Those of us who are disabled or deal with someone I listed above have increased access. While this study doesn’t directly address that, part of the increased happiness, in my opinion is the access we have to comfy clothes, our own bathroom, etc.

So when we’re rethinking inclusion and moving toward true allyship, that means:

Reflect on default thinking

Ask yourself:

Who do I assume is “able”?
What biases inform my idea of professionalism or productivity?
When do I silently judge someone for “not showing up” the way I expect?

Shift power through practice

In your daily work:

Challenge the myth of one “right” way to work.
Pause before questioning someone’s capacity.
Offer flexibility before it’s asked for.

Reimagine everyday systems

Rethink meetings: send agendas in advance, offer alternative ways to participate.
Improve hiring: provide written interview questions in advance, reduce jargon, and ask one clear question at a time.
Normalize "working with me" documents to help teams learn each other’s access needs and preferences.

Commit to ongoing learning

Ableism is often invisible until someone names it. And many of us—disabled or not—have internalized its messages. That’s why continuous education, mutual accountability, and humility are key.

One starting point: Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman. It’s not about disability, but it does help us understand how much of our thinking is shaped by unconscious shortcuts—and how hard (and necessary) it is to override them.

Final thought: Inclusion means believing people

One of the most radical things we can do in the workplace?
Believe people when they say they are in pain. Believe people when they say they need something different. Believe people when they share how their body or brain works.

Disability inclusion isn’t about pity or charity. It’s about designing systems where people don’t have to hide.

And it starts with noticing the defaults in our minds—and choosing to rewrite them.