Quiet Confessions, Episode 15: Pixie Dust and Policy Failures

In this week’s Quiet Confessions, Chelsea gets candid about the updated Disability Access Service (DAS) policy at Disney World — and why it feels dehumanizing, exhausting, and disrespectful to the disabled community.

As they prepare for a surprise trip for their daughter’s 10th birthday, Chelsea shares both the frustration of being denied DAS access and the unexpected gratitude for the cast member who went above and beyond to create accommodations that made the magic possible. This episode holds space for both anger at broken systems and appreciation for the individuals inside them who still care deeply.

🔑 Key Takeaways

• Disney’s updated DAS policy feels dehumanizing. Parents and individuals must prove they are “disabled enough,” which can be humiliating.
• Families with low incidence disabilities face extra harm. Children may be put on display during assessments, compounding stress and stigma.
• Denied doesn’t mean abandoned. Though Chelsea was denied DAS, the cast member provided resources like cool-down areas, ride options, and emergency planning.
• System vs. people. The policy feels broken, but individuals inside the system often go above and beyond.
• Living with chronic illness is holding both/and. It’s about carrying anger at injustice while holding onto glimmers of gratitude.
• Access matters for joy too. Disability accommodations are not luxuries — they’re necessary for families to share experiences fully.

🎧 Soundbites

• “The DAS policy feels dehumanizing — like they get to decide if you’re disabled enough.”
  
  
• “Parents shouldn’t have to put their kids on display for judgment just to enjoy Disney.”
  
  
• “The system denied me, but the cast member didn’t abandon me.”
  
  
• “Anger at the structures, gratitude for the people — that’s what chronic illness feels like.”
  
  
• “Accessibility isn’t pixie dust. It’s survival.”

Transcript

Chelsea Myers (00:04)
Hey, happy Thursday and welcome back to another quiet confession. Today I want to talk about my happy place. Disney World. Yes, I'm a Disney adult. No, I have no shame. But yeah, Disney on the surface sounds fun and magical and it is, it is those things. But for me as a now disabled person, it is

also kind of complicated. We're planning a trip in October for my oldest daughter's 10th birthday. It's a surprise. It's literally her dream. We asked her if she could do anything for her birthday, what would she do? She said, go to Disney with the princesses. And yeah, we had already planned on doing it. We've been saving and saving and saving. We've had this plan for

almost a year now and I can't believe we've kept it a secret. But that means I have been navigating the updated DAS Pass policy and I have some feelings and I know that a lot of families also have some feelings. So let's start with the truth.

the new DAS policy is dehumanizing, plain and simple. It feels disrespectful to the entire disabled community. It almost feels accusatory, like they get to look at you and decide if you're disabled enough. It's kind of disgusting. And the process itself needs serious work.

If you haven't heard, you're now required to have the person requiring the pass to be present on the video call so that they can be assessed. So if the pass weren't for me, if it were for one of my kids, like say goodbye to the surprise element because you have to be there. I don't know. As a former intensive needs special educator and a mom in a neuro sparkly household, it

just makes my skin crawl. On a personal level, for others living in a body with limitations, having to fight to prove that we deserve access just to enjoy a vacation with our families, it's exhausting and frankly humiliating.

And I'm also thinking about all the families who have kids with low incidence disabilities, essentially having to put their kids on display for judgment. Some of these kids may have limited or no verbal communication skills. Some may use an adaptive speech device or some may be totally verbal and they can all share the experience of total sensory shutdown.

based on their own unique needs. These families shouldn't have to fight for what is essentially a lightning lane pass. I've used a DAS pass. In the past, it's essentially a lightning lane pass.

But here's where it gets a little complicated. After going through their evaluation, I was denied the DAS pass, but the staff member that I met with went above and beyond to help me find resources and alternatives to meet my needs.

She gave me guides for cool down and rest areas since I can't regulate my temperature anymore. She set me up with options for avoiding physically waiting in some long lines for certain rides. And she even made a point to let medical staff know which parks I will be in on which days in case I have an adrenal emergency. She made sure ⁓

that even though the system denied me, I wasn't being left behind. And not only am I physically limited, but PTSD makes crowded, enclosed spaces with no clear exits, like the ridiculously long lines at Disney, incredibly difficult and can set off panic attacks for me. But she gave me so much material to help me plan my trip.

around my disability and sensory needs. I've got it all saved in a Google Drive file and I'm taking notes to make sure that I can enjoy the magic with my kids. Those little pixie dust touches that seem like simple accommodations just remind me that there are people inside the system who do care deeply about access.

Even when the system itself falls so short. So am I frustrated with the policy? Abs-a-frickin-lutely. Am I pissed off? You are. Yes. Yes, I am pissed off. I am pissed off for families beyond mine who have to fight for access on the daily and who are now being

denied in what is supposed to be the happiest place on earth. It just feels wrong. But I am grateful for the cast member who made sure that my family is going to be able to experience this trip fully, that I'm going to be able to enjoy my time. So yeah, again, it's both and.

anger at the system, but gratitude for the people who are actually having to navigate these calls with families. And honestly, I think that's what a lot of life with chronic illness and disability feels like. Being absolutely furious at the structures while holding onto the glimmers. And that's kind of what keeps me going.

We got a ways to go and I still need to keep it a secret, but I'll let you know how the trip goes once we do go. For now, I'm holding anger and gratitude. And if you're navigating the same, you are not alone. I will catch you next week. Go do something nice for yourself. Whatever is your glimmer, find it, grab it, hold onto it.