They Crawled So We Could Access: Remembering the Real Fight Behind the ADA
- Amy Pedid

- Jul 25
- 2 min read
Updated: Jul 26

Today, July 26th, marks the 35th anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). A landmark civil rights law that prohibits discrimination against people with disabilities in nearly every area of public life.
And while this legislation changed the landscape of accessibility in the U.S., the real story didn’t begin with a presidential signature.
It began with a crawl.
On March 12, 1990, over 60 disabled activists left behind their mobility devices and began to crawl up the steps of the U.S. Capitol. Some wore suits. Others wore advocacy t-shirts. Many wore expressions of pain and determination.
This act of protest became known as the Capitol Crawl. It was not a performance. It was a direct confrontation—a visceral, undeniable demand for access and civil rights.
The crawl exposed, in brutal clarity, what inaccessibility really looks like: physical pain, public humiliation, and exclusion baked into our buildings, our systems, and our policies. It was the moment lawmakers could no longer look away.
We often commemorate July 26th as the “official” moment the ADA was born—but we should never forget that it was the March 12th crawl that made that birth possible.
The ADA didn’t emerge from a moment of generosity or political goodwill. It was the result of years—decades—of organizing, advocacy, and protest from disabled communities who refused to be invisible.
As someone who works in accessible design, I see every day how far we’ve come—and how much further we need to go. The ADA laid the foundation, but it’s just that: a foundation. Access is still too often treated as an afterthought, a luxury, or a line item that gets cut when timelines are tight.
But accessibility is not generosity. It’s justice.
On this 35th anniversary, I want to celebrate the people who made the ADA happen: the ones who crawled, shouted, organized, wrote, testified, protested, and persisted.
Let’s celebrate their courage by continuing their work—building systems, services, and spaces that honor the full humanity of every person.
Because access isn’t a feature. It's the foundation.



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