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I’m autistic, diagnosed in my late 20s.

Long before that diagnosis, I struggled with learning disabilities, sensory issues, anxiety, depression and social difficulties. Yet, I always found ways to work that made sense for me.

I started selling vintage clothing on eBay at age 14, then moved to Etsy to sell my original artwork. Now, in my mid-30s, I run a small business designing disability, neurodiversity and queer-focused communication tools.

Entrepreneurship has always been my reality — not because I believed it would make me rich, but because it’s the only form of employment that genuinely accommodates my needs.

Support for disabled entrepreneurs is severely limited.

Government programs like Ready, Willing, and Able (RWA) and the Entrepreneurs with Disabilities Program (EDP) offered me no grants, mentorship or meaningful resources — just Zoom group sessions and pre-recorded videos that were given an inflated value.

Efforts to engage the Canadian Association for Supported Employment (CASE) went unanswered and attempts to hold Accessible Employers and Open Door Group accountable reaffirmed how disabled people are tokenized as a marketing tool rather than genuine support.

Currently, the only program addressing disabled entrepreneurship in my home province of B.C. is the Community Futures EDP. It offers primarily Zoom cohorts and recorded videos. There’s no meaningful investment in grants, mentorship or tailored resources.

At least the B.C. government recognizes that disabled entrepreneurs exist. Its Self-Employment Program (SEP) permits individuals on disability assistance to deduct business expenses, preventing them from quickly reaching their annual earnings exemption limit.

Clearly, the province has data showing a significant number of disabled entrepreneurs. Yet, we remain excluded from meaningful policy discussions and support structures.

I’ve applied for nearly 50 jobs and was either ignored or rejected before reaching the interview stage. When I seek support for the business I already run, I’m repeatedly advised to take out loans or watch instructional videos. As someone receiving disability benefits, advising me to incur debt is disconnected from reality.

I see gala events celebrating companies that hire disabled employees, as if fulfilling legal and moral obligations deserves special recognition. Meanwhile, disabled entrepreneurs are ignored.

We aren’t invited to these events, recognized for our innovation, or even acknowledged. Are we excluded because we don’t fit into conventional narratives of accessibility? Or because our existence proves it’s possible to sustain ourselves independently of traditional employment models?

There are successful alternatives. Melly’s Market + Café in Whitby, Ontario, is a non-profit that genuinely empowers disabled individuals by offering training and transferable skills. Their mission is authentic empowerment, not corporate PR.

If two core objectives of the federal are to “improve social and economic inclusion” and “reduce poverty among persons with disabilities,” why are disabled entrepreneurs consistently overlooked?

 explicitly recognizes the right to inclusive, accessible employment — including self-employment. Yet, the cornerstone of DIAP — the Canada Disability Benefit — is inadequate, restrictive and fails to provide meaningful support for all disabled people, including those of us who are self-employed. Their guiding principle, “nothing without us” rings hollow.

A meeting with chief accessibility officer Stephanie Cadieux, the author of the report, proved disheartening because self-employment seems outside of her mandate.

How can entrepreneurship, a critical pathway to financial independence and dignity for many disabled Canadians, not be part of the accessibility agenda?

Self-employment remains the most accessible, flexible and sustainable work option for me. I can control my environment, avoid sensory overload, reduce masking, and focus on my strengths. Traditional workplaces have never accommodated my needs. My own business does.

I’m not asking for special treatment. I’m asking for recognition, real investment in mentorship and training, and grants — not loans. I’m asking for the same dignity, opportunity and validation others receive. What disabled entrepreneurs do matters; our work is valid.

Employment is not one-size-fits-all.

Until self-employment receives the respect, resources and recognition it deserves, the system will never truly be inclusive.