Accessible Typography: Why Rolling Back Accessibility Changes Hurts Everyone

Business man in suit signing a piece of paper with blurry text

What the State Department font change signals about accessibility

A font change shouldn’t be front-page news. And yet here we are because we know this one has the ability to impact millions of lives.

In early December, the U.S. State Department directed staff to return to Times New Roman and stop using Calibri, reversing a 2023 shift that was introduced to improve readability and accessibility for people with disabilities. The directive reportedly framed the prior change as part of a “wasteful” diversity, equity, inclusion, and accessibility (DEIA) effort and emphasized “decorum” and “professionalism.”

Whether or not any single font is “good” or “bad,” rolling back an accessibility-motivated decision has a larger societal impact: it signals that accommodations are optional—something we can add or remove based on politics, aesthetics, or convenience.

Who is affected when accessible typography is rolled back

When accessibility is treated as a preference, the burden shifts to the people who already carry the most friction:

• People with low vision who benefit from clearer letterforms and spacing

• People with dyslexia and other reading/processing differences who rely on predictable hierarchy and legibility

• People using assistive tech or alternative formats who depend on consistent, readable source documents

And importantly: the consequences are rarely dramatic or visible. The harm is quieter. More fatigue. More time. More mistakes. More opting out.

That’s why accessibility isn’t “extra.” It’s participation infrastructure.

The pattern we can’t ignore

When accessible typography and visuals are implemented at the start we see a recurring cycle across society and organizations:

1. A barrier is identified (often by disabled people doing the work of advocacy).

2. An accommodation is added.

3. Over time, it gets reframed as unnecessary, “too expensive,” or “not professional.”

4. It’s rolled back, often without transparent evidence about who is affected and how.
   

That cycle doesn’t just change formatting. It changes expectations: who must adapt, who gets to be comfortable, and whose needs are treated as negotiable.

How “professionalism” can become a barrier to readability

One of the most concerning parts of this specific change is the language around restoring “professionalism” and “decorum.”

We’ve seen this before in other forms—where “professional” subtly becomes code for:

• Familiar norms over measurable comprehension

• Aesthetic tradition over functional clarity

• The comfort of insiders over the access of everyone
  

That’s how barriers become normalized, even when they’re entirely preventable.

Accountability questions leaders should answer before changing standards

If leaders can remove accommodations, then leaders should be required to answer basic accountability questions:

• What problem are you solving—and for whom?

• What evidence supports the change?

• Who is most impacted, and were they consulted?

• What replaces what’s being removed?

• What metrics will you use to ensure access didn’t get worse?

Without those answers, rollbacks are not neutral decisions. They’re choices made without responsibility for impact.

Examples of sans and serif font choices

How to choose accessible fonts for readability and inclusion

Fonts are one of the most invisible choices we make and that’s exactly why they matter. They shape comprehension, confidence, and belonging long before anyone reacts to the “content.”

So the next time you choose a typeface—on a website, in a deck, in a PDF, in an email pause and ask:

• Who will be able to read this quickly?

• Who will need extra effort?

• What does “professional” mean here: tradition, or clarity?

• If someone is already carrying more cognitive load, does this choice add to it?

Because accessibility isn’t only a standard we reference. It’s a responsibility we practice, one decision at a time.