I've been staring at TPGi's latest weekly reading list, and honestly, it's got me thinking about how we talk about accessibility resources in this field. Don't get me wrong—TPGi does solid work, and their roundups are comprehensive. But scrolling through 40+ links to guides, checklists, and theoretical frameworks, I keep asking myself: what would the restaurant owner who called me last week actually find useful here?

She runs a family barbecue place in Spring, Texas. Three locations, been in business for fifteen years, just got her first accessibility complaint. She doesn't need to understand "Shapes Constraint Language (SHACL) Node Expressions" or dive into "Anchored Container Queries." She needs to know if her online ordering system works with screen readers so disabled customers can order food, and whether her parking lot meets ADA requirements so people with mobility disabilities can visit her restaurant.

This disconnect between what gets produced in our field and what small businesses actually need to serve disabled customers has been bothering me for months. The Southwest ADA Center gets it right—their resources focus on practical steps you can take today to remove barriers for disabled people. But too much of what circulates in accessibility circles feels like it's written for other accessibility professionals, not the people who actually need to implement changes to serve their disabled customers.

The Small Business Resource Gap

Look at some of the standout items from typical weekly lists. Organizations publish multiple guides on Title II compliance and Section 508 requirements. Experts share insights on evaluating VPATs and keyboard shortcuts. Practitioners cover testing methodologies for everything from error prevention to accessible authentication.

All valuable work. All written by people who know their stuff. But here's what I noticed: most assume you already have an accessibility program, dedicated staff, and budget for comprehensive testing. They're optimization guides for organizations that have already figured out the basics of serving disabled customers.

Meanwhile, the businesses I work with are still trying to understand why their website needs to work with screen readers in the first place. They're asking questions like "How much will this cost?" and "What happens if we don't fix it?" and "Can we do this ourselves or do we need to hire someone?" But underneath these practical concerns is a more fundamental question: "How do we make sure disabled people can actually use our services?"

There's nothing wrong with advanced resources—we need them. But the ratio feels off. For every practical "here's what to do Monday morning to serve disabled customers better" guide, there are ten theoretical frameworks and technical deep-dives.

What Actually Helps Businesses Serve Disabled Customers

I've been thinking about this because of a conversation I had with a hotel manager in Galveston last month. She'd been trying to figure out ADA Title III compliance for her property's website and reservation system. Smart person, college-educated, runs a successful business. But she was drowning in conflicting advice and technical jargon when all she really wanted was to make sure disabled guests could book rooms and access information about her hotel.

What finally clicked for her wasn't a comprehensive checklist or testing methodology. It was sitting down with someone who could explain, in plain English, that screen readers need text descriptions for images so blind guests can understand what amenities are available, that forms need clear labels so people with cognitive disabilities can complete bookings, and that videos need captions so deaf guests can access promotional content. We spent twenty minutes walking through her booking process with a screen reader, and suddenly everything made sense—not as a compliance exercise, but as a way to welcome more customers.

That experience taught me something about how change actually happens in small businesses. It's not through perfect documentation or comprehensive frameworks. It's through understanding that accessibility is about real people trying to use your services, seeing it demonstrated, and getting clear next steps that fit within existing constraints.

The resources that work best for my clients have three things in common: they explain why accessibility matters in human terms (disabled people deserve equal access), they show concrete examples of barriers and solutions, and they provide realistic timelines and budgets for removing those barriers. Everything else, no matter how technically accurate, tends to sit in bookmarks folders, unread.

The Strategy Question

This brings me to what I think is the real strategic issue hiding in resource lists. We're producing content for the people who are already convinced accessibility matters, not the ones who need to understand that disabled people deserve equal access to their services. We're optimizing for depth when many organizations need to start with the basic understanding that accessibility is about serving all customers with dignity.

Experts often emphasize taking a human approach to web accessibility: "Web accessibility is for people, by people—this simple idea should shape how to begin." But too often, our resources don't reflect that human-centered approach. They reflect the complexity of our field rather than the simplicity of the underlying goal: making sure disabled people can participate equally.

I'm not suggesting we dumb things down or ignore technical requirements. The DOJ's Title II final rule creates real obligations that help ensure disabled people have equal access to government services. WCAG 2.1 AA conformance involves genuine technical complexity because creating truly accessible experiences requires attention to detail.

But I am suggesting we need more resources that meet people where they are, not where we think they should be. More guides that start with "A disabled person couldn't use your service—here's how to fix that" instead of "Understanding the theoretical foundations of inclusive design." More content that acknowledges budget constraints and competing priorities while maintaining that equal access isn't optional—it's about finding practical ways to fulfill that obligation.

A Different Kind of Reading List

So here's what I'd love to see more of in these weekly roundups: case studies from real businesses that figured out practical solutions to serve disabled customers better. Budget breakdowns for common accessibility improvements that remove barriers. Templates and checklists that non-experts can actually use to evaluate whether disabled people can use their services. Stories about what worked and what didn't, told by the people who had to implement changes.

I'd love to see more content that acknowledges the strategic reality most organizations face: accessibility competes with other priorities and budgets are limited, but equal access for disabled people remains a fundamental obligation. Resources that help organizations make smart decisions about where to start and how to prioritize, rather than assuming they can tackle everything at once.

The field has gotten incredibly sophisticated in the past few years. The quality of technical guidance available today would have been unimaginable a decade ago. But sophistication without accessibility—in the broader sense of being usable by the people who need it—doesn't actually help more disabled people access services and participate in society.

As we head deeper into 2025, with new legal requirements and increased enforcement, the organizations that need help most aren't the ones reading theoretical frameworks. They're the ones trying to figure out where to start, how much it costs, and whether they can do it themselves—all in service of the fundamental goal of ensuring disabled people can use their services. Our resource ecosystem should reflect that reality.

The weekly reading lists will keep coming, packed with valuable insights and advanced techniques. But maybe it's time to ask whether we're producing the resources that will actually create the accessible world we're working toward—one where disabled people have equal access to participate in all aspects of society. Sometimes the most strategic thing you can do is step back and make sure you're solving the right problem: removing barriers so disabled people can live, work, and participate with dignity.