Inclusion Means Different Things to Different People

What does inclusion mean to you?

Including everyone? Making people feel welcome? Removing barriers?

Of course. What else could it mean?

That question was on my mind recently when I joined a webinar on the theme of inclusivity. It featured a range of speakers from different backgrounds, each sharing their experiences of discrimination. Some had faced bias due to their race, others because of gender, sexuality, or disability. Their stories were honest, emotional, and deeply impactful.

One speaker in particular stood out. He was a successful GP in London who had lost his sight after a sudden brain seizure. Since then, he has dedicated himself to championing equal access for disabled people. He spoke about his personal journey with quiet strength and clarity. His story moved me, as did the others, but there was something about his message that resonated on a deeper level.

After the presentations, the webinar moved into a Q&A session. The doctor had to leave early, but several speakers stayed on. I had submitted a question in advance.

What are the panel’s views on inclusive websites?

The host read it out, and there was a pause. Then one of the panellists began talking about how they chose their website imagery and language carefully to ensure it felt welcoming, particularly for women and people from ethnic minorities. Another mentioned how their live chat feature was a way to make users feel heard and supported.

Both were thoughtful answers. They missed the point. I used the live chat to gently clarify. I was asking whether they had ever tried to check website accessibility for people with disabilities. I wanted to know if their websites actually worked for someone using assistive technology.

No one replied.

It became clear that the idea of inclusive websites in the digital sense had not crossed their minds. These were thoughtful people doing valuable work. The digital side of inclusion had slipped through the net.

That moment stuck with me. It was not the first time I had seen that blank look.

A few days later, I had a Zoom call with a workplace inclusion consultant. She helps businesses create environments that are welcoming and accessible to disabled employees. She spoke with warmth and conviction. This was someone who lived and breathed inclusion.

She asked what I did. I explained that I specialise in creating inclusive websites, ensuring that everyone can use and navigate a website properly.

Her face went blank.

She had never heard of it.

This was someone who had spent years improving the accessibility of physical spaces. The idea that the same principles should apply online had never come up.

She listened carefully. I explained how automated scans often miss the real-world challenges disabled users face. I told her how a proper audit includes real disabled people using their own assistive tools to explore and test the site.

She understood it straight away.

Within minutes, she was making introductions to others in her network. She said this is something people need to know.

She was right.

Inclusion often focuses on the physical world. People think of ramps, lifts, braille signage, and accessible toilets. These are essential. In the workplace, people talk about flexible hours, adjusted interview processes, and inclusive policies. Again, all of that is vital.

If someone cannot even apply for a job or find the right information because your website does not work for them, inclusion has already failed before it even started.

Many people assume that running a web accessibility checker is enough to make a site inclusive. It is not.

That is where tools like a web accessibility checker can help. They flag basic issues like colour contrast or missing image descriptions. They are useful. They are not enough.

You can pass every automated check and still have a website that is impossible to use for someone relying on keyboard navigation or a screen reader.

To build inclusive websites, you need more than software. You need empathy. You need to check website accessibility through lived experience.

That means real testing by disabled users. Watching people try to complete tasks and noting where they struggle. Listening. Learning. Improving. Not just ticking boxes.

Many organisations install a web accessibility checker and assume the job is done. It is not. These tools give a score. They do not explain why someone gave up halfway through trying to fill in a form.

You can follow every guideline and still create a frustrating experience. Only real testing can reveal those moments. The sticky bits. The invisible walls.

When you check website accessibility, you uncover these problems before your users do. That is the whole point.

I have seen websites that pass every automated test and fail in real life. It happens all the time. People do not mean to exclude others. They just do not realise they are doing it.

This is why I keep going.

When we talk about inclusion, we need to talk about digital access. If someone cannot use your website, they are already excluded before they ever reach your doors.

Those speakers on the webinar were passionate, thoughtful people. The workplace consultant was someone who really cared. They had simply never been told that inclusion applies to websites too.

This is where we come in.

When we help someone check website accessibility, we are helping them welcome every visitor. Not just some.

When we go beyond a web accessibility checker and bring in real users, we are building websites that work for everyone.

When we put lived experience at the heart of design, we create inclusive websites in the true sense of the word.

That webinar, and that Zoom call, reminded me of how much people still do not know.

They also reminded me why it matters so much.

Website inclusion is not just a technical issue. It is a human one.

It begins the moment someone arrives on your site.

Make sure they are not turned away.