Opinion | America is abandoning people with disabilities

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For half a century, the U.S. has been achieving one of the most important civil rights victories most Americans have never heard of: closing the large institutions that once warehoused people with intellectual and developmental disabilities.

In 1967, nearly 200,000 people lived in state-run facilities that isolated, neglected and often abused them. Today, because of decades of advocacy, exposés, bipartisan action and families who chose to keep their children at home, fewer than 16,000 remain. More than a million people now live in communities — in their own homes, with family or with host or foster families — with safer, fuller lives and greater opportunities.

But progress is not permanent. Across the nation, people with disabilities are again ending up in emergency rooms, psychiatric units, homeless shelters, segregated schools and even jail. Not because of their disabilities, but because the systems meant to support them are failing. Direct support professionals — the people who make community living possible — are leaving jobs they can no longer afford to keep. Service providers are closing. Waiting lists are growing. Families are once again being told to lower their expectations.

We are sliding backward — not for lack of solutions, but for lack of action on what we already know.

Decades of research show that people with intellectual and developmental disabilities can work in real jobs, learn in inclusive classrooms and contribute to civic life when the right supports are in place. Inclusion benefits everyone. Students learn alongside classmates with diverse strengths. Communities gain volunteers and taxpayers. Families gain stability.

We have allowed compliance checklists to stand in for outcomes. We have allowed outdated funding structures to block change. And we have allowed a critical workforce to remain invisible.

We need to focus on three priorities:

Direct support professionals and educational assistants are essential. They support people with complex needs, handle challenging situations and carry major responsibility. They deserve competitive wages, benefits, training and a career pathway. Without them, nothing else works. We also need physicians, nurses, psychiatrists and allied health professionals well trained to support people with intellectual and developmental disabilities.

What matters is whether people can work, build relationships, live safely and participate in their communities. Programs should be held to these outcomes, not just minimum regulatory standards and paperwork. If something is not working, it should be changed, not defended out of habit.

Long-term services and supports are still funded through a medical model created in the 1960s. Disability is not an illness to treat; it is a form of human diversity that sometimes requires support. Our systems should reflect that. Policies should place responsibility not only on service agencies but also on schools, employers, faith communities, recreation programs and local governments. Communities must be accountable too.

The movement for disability rights has always crossed political lines. It reflects fairness, common sense and the belief that every person should be able to live in the community with dignity. When people with disabilities can work, volunteer and participate, communities thrive. When families have stable support, they stay healthy and in the workforce. Public dollars are spent more effectively.

It is time to ask harder questions. Why do we hold individuals accountable for fitting into their communities but rarely hold communities accountable for including them? Why do we fund lifelong supports through a health insurance structure designed for acute medical care? Why do we reward compliance instead of outcomes that matter — friendships, independence, belonging?

We can do better. We must listen more closely to people with disabilities and their families. We must use research not only to show what works but to move hearts. And we must tell the story of why this work matters — not just in data, but in the lives behind it. Inclusion is built through relationships: when neighbors say “you belong here,” when employers say “you work here,” when policymakers say “we will stand with you.”

We cannot allow a proven civil rights victory to unravel. We can recognize the problem, face it directly and rebuild a system that works for everyone.