A few days ago, Donald Trump made a comment that, while shocking on the surface, fits a long and well-documented pattern. He suggested that Gavin Newsom’s learning disability should disqualify him from being president, that having a disability like dyslexia somehow makes someone unfit for leadership.
At this point, it’s not surprising. But it is still dangerous.
Trump has a history of dismissive and harmful rhetoric toward people with disabilities, from reported comments about disabled family members to policy decisions like cuts to Medicaid and the rollback of accessibility expectations in federal spaces. These aren’t isolated incidents; they reflect a worldview where disability is seen as a deficit rather than a form of human diversity.
And that’s the real issue.
What Dyslexia Actually Is (and Isn’t)
Dyslexia is not a measure of intelligence. It is a difference in how the brain processes language, particularly reading, writing, and spelling. People with dyslexia often have average or above-average intelligence, but they process information differently.
Roughly 10–15% of the population is dyslexic. That’s not a niche group, that’s millions of people.
And yet, we are largely invisible in conversations about disability.
Even in digital accessibility spaces where inclusion should be foundational, dyslexia is often treated as an afterthought. We talk about screen readers and color contrast, but rarely about cognitive load, reading complexity, or alternative ways of processing written information.
The Reality: Systemic Barriers, Not Individual Failure
The unemployment rate among people with dyslexia is disproportionately high. Estimates suggest that a significant portion of unemployed individuals have some form of dyslexia.
That’s not because dyslexic people lack ability.
It’s because systems of education, hiring, and workplace expectations are built around skills that disproportionately disadvantage us.
For example:
- Note-taking during meetings can be extremely difficult. Many of us can either listen or write—not both simultaneously.
- Written communication is often used as a proxy for competence, even in roles where it isn’t the core skill.
- Workplace tools and interfaces frequently ignore cognitive accessibility altogether.
So what happens?
We’re labeled as “difficult,” “inconsistent,” or “not detail-oriented”—instead of being understood.
My Experience Living With Dyslexia
I am dyslexic.
When I was tested in school, my results were extreme: I scored at a graduate level in vocabulary, math, and logic but at an elementary level in reading, writing, and spelling. There was no middle ground. I was both “gifted” and “behind” at the same time.
But the system didn’t know how to handle that.
Instead of recognizing a learning difference, many educators treated me as less capable. Even with accommodations like audiobooks and recorded lectures, the assumption was that difficulty with reading equaled lack of intelligence.
That assumption followed me into higher education and the workforce.
In college, I relied heavily on assistive technologies, early text-to-speech tools, dictation software, and anything that allowed me to access information in different ways. These tools weren’t conveniences; they were the only way I could fully participate.
Even then, barriers remained. I was denied access to writing support services because my needs were considered “too complex.” I paid friends to help edit my work. I spent hours navigating systems that weren’t designed for someone like me.
Today, tools like AI-assisted editing have changed everything. For the first time, I can communicate my ideas clearly and efficiently without relying on expensive, time-consuming human editing.
That’s not a shortcut. That’s accessibility.
Employment: Where Bias Becomes Structural
My career has spanned multiple roles: education, nonprofit work, tech, UX, and development. Across all of them, one pattern has remained consistent:
Employers are often willing to value my intelligence until it shows up in writing.
I’ve been:
- Criticized for written communication despite strong verbal and analytical skills
- Overloaded with documentation-heavy responsibilities without accommodation
- Judged on output formats rather than actual impact
In one role, I was required to handwrite reports, something I physically cannot do in a functional way. In others, inaccessible software made already difficult tasks nearly impossible.
Dyslexia is often misunderstood because it’s not immediately visible. If someone is blind or deaf, accommodations are expected. With dyslexia, the response is often confusion or worse, skepticism.
“How can you be so articulate, but write like that?”
That question reveals the bias.
Why This Matters Beyond One Comment
When a public figure like Donald Trump suggests that a learning disability disqualifies someone from leadership, it reinforces a message that many of us have heard our entire lives:
You are not capable. You are a burden. You are less than.
That message doesn’t just stay in politics, it shapes hiring decisions, classroom expectations, and everyday interactions.
Historically, when dyslexia was first identified in the 1800s, it was observed in students who were otherwise highly intelligent but struggled to read. The conclusion wasn’t that they were incapable, it was that something different was happening cognitively.
Somewhere along the way, we lost that nuance.
The Bottom Line
Dyslexia does not make someone unfit to lead.
What makes leadership dangerous is a failure to understand the diversity of human cognition and a willingness to dismiss entire groups of people based on outdated assumptions.
We don’t need fewer dyslexic voices in leadership.
We need more.
Because the world isn’t built for just one way of thinking, and it never should be.
