Before We Point Fingers at Wheelchair “Misuse,” Let’s Talk About Mobility Support

Rajeev Ramanath
12 minutes ago
4 min read

Every few months, social media finds a new target. Recently, it was wheelchair assistance at airports. A video goes viral, someone claims the system is being “abused,” and suddenly the national conversation shifts to blame, anger, and calls for passengers to “pay for service.”

The problem is not new, but the speed at which online frustration hardens into public judgment is increasing. Somewhere along the way, we started framing this as a question of who “deserves” help. But it is not a morality question at all: it’s a customer support challenge.

And when we lose sight of that, when we ignore hidden disabilities or adopt a one-size-fits-all approach, we risk leaving behind the people who genuinely depend on these services.

Mobility Support Is a Right, Not a Ration

Consider how quickly mobility can change. One slip in a bathroom, one miscalculated step off the curb. Suddenly, an airport terminal becomes a labyrinth. And yet, to a passerby, you still “look fine.” We have all watched signage, rushed to gates, and reoriented ourselves in unfamiliar hubs. Now imagine doing that in pain or disorientation, or with a silent internal struggle.

Hidden disabilities – mobility-related, cognitive, sensory, cardiopulmonary – are real, even when they are invisible to everyone else. Many passengers navigate airports while managing pain, balance issues, fatigue, disorientation, anxiety, or breathing difficulties that don’t show up as walkers, canes, or medical devices. They may “look fine” but still face very real barriers in a large, noisy, high-pressure terminal.

These challenges don’t announce themselves with signs or equipment. They don’t fit the public’s narrow picture of what disability “should look like.” And because of that, people often choose not to disclose them out of privacy, pride, uncertainty, or simply because they aren’t ready to label themselves. But the need is still there.

That’s why mobility support shouldn’t be treated as a “nice to have” reserved only for those who present obvious signals. It should be built into the system by default — offered with dignity, without interrogation, and designed for the full spectrum of human ability. When we design for hidden disability, we create systems that work better for everyone.

Where Empathy Goes Missing

When stories surface of older passengers, or visitors from abroad, requesting mobility assistance, the default reaction too often becomes: “Why is the system being used incorrectly? Charge them.” The conversation shifts from helping people move to filtering people out. That shift is costly—emotionally, socially, operationally.

When we focus on policing the passenger instead of improving the pathway, we lose our humanity. Because one day, each of us will need support. And we will hope that we are met with care, not suspicion.

The Dignity of Hidden Need

Recently, The New York Times published a thoughtful piece on older adults who use mobility aids yet still resist identifying as “disabled.” The article highlighted how many people, despite walkers, oxygen tanks, hearing challenges, or spinal pain, hesitate to claim that label. It explored the tension between needing support and accepting an identity that many grew up seeing as limiting or stigmatized.

When I shared this article with my father, something he said stayed with me far more than anything in the piece itself. Reflecting on his own experience, he told me:

“There comes a point when you give up and accept the disability. Nobody likes being rushed into a decision made by others.”

And then he added:

“There is a satisfying dignity in accepting it on your own.”

His words reframed the issue for me. They reminded me that not everyone is ready to declare their limitations publicly. Not everyone wants to be labeled on someone else’s timeline. Not everyone is prepared to announce private struggles in the middle of a crowded terminal.

And many who quietly ask for help are not misusing anything.

They are simply navigating that deeply personal space between capability, identity, and dignity.

He reopened my eyes to something important: needing help is not a failure. Needing help is human. The problem arises when needing help becomes a visible mark, a burden, or a reason to be marginalized.

Support systems should allow space for people to ask for assistance without having to “prove” themselves. They should let dignity lead, not gatekeeping.

A Policy That Misses the Point

In India, the Directorate General of Civil Aviation (DGCA) has recently allowed airlines to charge wheelchair fees to passengers who “appear able-bodied” but still ask for assistance. The intention is to reduce misuse. The effect, however, is different:

It assumes disability is visible and certifiable,
It shifts the burden to the traveler to prove need,
It generalizes problem cases into a policy applied to all,
It signals that mobility assistance is a privilege you pay for, not a service you deserve.

When we treat hidden needs through the lens of suspicion rather than design for access, we risk building harder barriers, not smoother pathways.

The Real Challenge: Service Infrastructure, Not Misuse

Let’s be honest: the core issue isn’t passengers misusing the system. It’s that airports and airlines are under tremendous strain:

Staff stretched thin,
Infrastructure not built for the evolving demographics,
Processes that vary terminal to terminal,
Limited visibility into which passengers need help and why,
Systems designed for "visible disability" only, not for every kind of need.

Those are operational and design problems. They can be fixed if we shift from blame to solution.

What We Need to Focus On

Our belief at Blueberry Technology, and alongside many others in the mobility and travel ecosystem, is that the focus must be on:

Autonomy: giving travelers tools to request and receive assistance without shame or friction,
Throughput: designing terminals and services so mobility helps flows naturally, without delays,
Human-centered policy: making mobility a built-in right, not an add-on you must qualify for or pay extra to access.

This is not about one company’s product or one industry’s fix. It’s about how we as a society treat mobility and support. It is about the way we respond when someone asks for help, not questioning why, but how soon.

One day, you or I will need that support. And when we do, we will hope the system stands ready, not skeptical, not transactional. Let’s build it today, with dignity at its core.