In 2007, I made a decision that would shape my career. I realized I did not want to work for an organization where I had to hide my disability. At the time, I did not yet know what disclosure would look like, but I knew I did not want to build a working life around hiding that I had a disability. At the same time, I still needed to work, which meant learning how to navigate disclosure in real and sometimes difficult ways.
When should you disclose?
My name is Colleen Smereka, and I have learning disabilities that affect my reading, writing, processing speed, and working memory. These aspects of how I learn and work are with me in every job I have had. What has changed over time is not my disability, but how I navigate it in the workplace. Over the years, I have experimented with different ways of disclosing. Early on, I included my disability in cover letters, thinking honesty would demonstrate self-awareness. Instead, I received very few interview requests. Whether or not disclosure was the reason, including my disability in cover letters felt like it was influencing how I was evaluated before I had the opportunity to present myself.
I shifted my approach and began disclosing during interviews, which allowed me to introduce my skills, experience, and personality first before bringing my disability into the conversation. I have continued with this approach ever since. What I have learned is that disclosure is not a single decision. It is an ongoing process that shifts depending on the environment, the role, and the people involved. Every time I disclose, I am weighing risks and possibilities.
Hiding is not an option for me
Because my disability is invisible, I do not have to disclose. But for me, being able to show up authentically matters. I did not want to build a career around hiding parts of who I am. Over time, I have come to see that showing up as myself at work is not a single decision, but an ongoing process. I have also been aware that disclosure can change how people view me. I have worried that people might think I cannot do my job as well as others, or that mistakes, like grammar errors in emails, would be attributed to my disability, rather than recognizing that I am a capable and hard-working person who, like anyone else, makes mistakes.
In the past, when workloads became difficult to manage, I worried that any challenges would be attributed to me rather than to the constraints of the job. Even after disclosing, I often carried the responsibility of managing my disability on my own, which felt isolating. It is also important to understand that my experiences with disclosure have been shaped by the field I work in. I have spent much of my career in disability services and often disclosed to people who already value disability. I believe this has contributed to disclosure feeling easier and, at times, safer.
You can’t undo disclosure!
At the same time, disclosure is never easy or straightforward. One of the realities I always carry with me is this: once you disclose, you cannot take it back. Disclosure opens the door not only to understanding, but also to assumptions. We live in a society that has dominant ways of understanding disability. When you disclose, you are not just sharing information, you are entering a space where those assumptions already exist. People may interpret your disability in ways you cannot control. Despite these risks, I have not experienced a significant amount of overt discrimination after disclosing. In part, this may be because I have not often formally requested accommodations. Even so, this does not mean my experience has been straightforward.
What is self-accommodation?
Instead, I have taken a different approach, one I would describe as self-accommodation. Throughout my career, I have been strategic in the types of jobs I apply for. Earlier on, assistive technology was not as widely available, so I intentionally applied for positions where it was my role to teach assistive technology, ensuring I had access to the tools I needed. At the time, it felt less like a choice and more like a necessity. I knew I needed these tools to do my job well and did not want to be in a position where I had to fight for access. I wanted to set myself up for success, and I did.
In my day-to-day work, I rely on tools like text-to-speech, speech-to-text, and note-taking technologies to stay organized and complete my work. Today, many of these tools are built into workplace systems, but that was not always the case.
Self-accommodation has meant finding ways to meet my needs within existing structures. It has meant learning to use tools, shaping my environment where possible, and making decisions that allow me to succeed without always formally requesting support.
But self-accommodation is not a perfect solution. It comes with trade-offs. One of the costs of not having formal accommodations was the pressure to keep up without official organizational support. I knew that tasks like writing notes, letters, and emails took me longer, and I worried others might see this as not doing enough. To compensate, I often worked through lunches and breaks. Even after disclosing, it sometimes felt like I was carrying the burden of adapting to the system on my own.
Is there a best way to disclose?
There is no one right way to approach disclosure. Each person must weigh the risks and benefits based on their circumstances, their field, and their comfort level. For some, formal accommodations are essential. For others, self-accommodation becomes part of how they navigate work. For many, the approach is a combination of both, determined by the contexts people find themselves in.
What connects these experiences is that disclosure is not just a personal decision. It is shaped by the environments individuals move through. Workplaces are not neutral. They come with expectations about productivity, competence, and what counts as ability. I have come to understand the value in paying attention to organizational culture, learning about workplace practices, and speaking with someone who has disclosed before making a decision.
