When the System Says ‘No’ Until It’s Too Late: Disability, Homelessness, and the Price of Being ‘Different’
- Carla Rodney
- May 29
- 2 min read
When the System Says ‘No’ Until It’s Too Late: Disability, Homelessness, and the Price of Being ‘Different’
“When support is delayed, denied, or defined by ‘normal,’ disabled students are pushed out—sometimes into homelessness.”
Yollanda Zhang recently spoke out on TikTok about the systemic barriers disabled students face in higher education. She highlighted the overwhelming, convoluted structures that make students with disabilities fight for every ounce of flexibility, accommodation, and support.
I know her words are true—because I’ve lived them.
For years, I fought for access to the Ontario Disability Support Program (ODSP). Appeals became part of my survival. When I was finally approved, the government refused to backdate support to when I actually needed it—choosing bureaucracy over humanity. They acknowledged my eligibility too late, and then acted like the years of hunger, academic disruption, and emotional strain simply didn’t count.
But the real cruelty came in the form of ODSP’s lifetime maximum. A policy designed with “normal” students in mind: four years, no pauses, no deviations. For disabled students like me, this one-size-fits-all model isn’t just flawed—it’s dangerous.
I followed the directions of my doctors. I slowed down when my health required it. I paused when my body needed care. The system didn’t see that as strength or survival. It saw it as failure.
That gap in support led directly to my eviction, to homelessness, and to a devastating sense of being punished for doing what was necessary to stay alive.
What We Need Isn’t Pity—It’s a System That Works
Yollanda’s call for flexibility—like allowing pre-recorded presentations for those with anxiety or pain—is just the beginning. What we really need is a complete redesign of our systems of support, from financial aid to housing protections.
Real accessibility isn't just ramps and captions.
It’s dignity.
It’s flexibility.
It’s believing that disabled lives matter enough to plan for.
This Isn’t Just My Story
It’s the story of thousands of students, caregivers, and elders who are rendered invisible by the very systems that claim to support them.
At Grandma Knows Best, we share these stories not out of bitterness—but to bear witness, to advocate, and to build something better.
We believe in rest, in resistance, and in reclaiming the softness this world tries to steal from us.
If you’ve lived something similar—or know someone who has—let’s keep the conversation going.
Share your story. Speak your truth. You are not invisible.
Rest. Relax. Release. Where healing is cultural, and softness is sacred.
Comments