Breaking Barriers, Byte by Byte: Disability, Gender, and Digital Life

-Asmita Devkota

In an ableist world, the digital space has become more than just a convenience—it is a lifeline. For many, it is a platform of opportunities, but for me, as a girl with a visual disability, it is both a source of empowerment and a reminder of the challenges that come with systemic exclusion.

I am a very tech-dependent girl. Technology does not just make my life easier—it makes it possible. With apps like Be My Eyes, I can receive live descriptions of my surroundings. Seeing AI, InstaReader, and InVision AI allow me to read books independently by scanning and converting them into audiobooks. These tools restore my autonomy, enabling me to live, learn, and grow without constantly depending on others.

I also love taking photos and making videos, and technology makes that creativity accessible to me. During the COVID-19 pandemic, the digital world became even more central to my life. It gave me access to knowledge, connection, and independence at a time when physical spaces were closed. Today, digital technology is everywhere—education, health, banking, communication—and my active presence in it is a key part of who I am. These tools are not just conveniences; they are freedoms. They prove that technology, when inclusive, can bridge barriers and ensure that people with disabilities can participate fully in life.

Not all experiences in digital spaces have been empowering. In my college, communication and assignments relied heavily on Viber, which is not fully accessible for visually impaired users. I often had to rely on others to access essential academic content. This dependency reduced my autonomy and, at times, violated my privacy.

Another significant experience was with mobile banking. When I first visited the bank, the staff did not realise I was visually impaired. Once they noticed, their behaviour changed instantly—they told me I could only use the service to receive money, excluding me from full banking access. This was not just discrimination; it directly attacked my autonomy over my finances. I refused to accept this limitation and fought to claim my rights, but it highlighted the systemic power imbalances that often deny marginalised people equal opportunities.

Beyond education and banking, many websites and apps remain inaccessible. Despite WCAG guidelines, organisations often neglect accessibility. Information is frequently shared in photo-only formats that screen readers cannot process.

Another important issue is how inaccessible digital content—especially information shared in photo-only formats—directly violates the right to privacy of visually impaired people. When documents, notices, assignments, or messages are sent only as images, my screen reader cannot read them at all. This forces me to depend on someone else just to know what information is inside. Sometimes the content is personal, academic, or even sensitive, yet I have no choice but to ask another person for help.

This is not just an inconvenience; it is a serious breach of privacy and autonomy. Sighted people can check their messages, results, banking details, or official information privately. But an inaccessible design takes away that basic right from visually impaired people. As a visually impaired girl, this vulnerability feels even heavier. Privacy is closely connected to dignity, safety, and personal agency, and digital inaccessibility directly undermines all three.

Although apps like Be My Eyes, Seeing AI, and InVision AI are empowering, many assistive technologies remain expensive and out of reach for ordinary people. In Nepal, there are no special government provisions to make assistive devices affordable or widely accessible for persons with disabilities. The government has not given sufficient attention to reducing the cost of these technologies or supporting their distribution, which leaves many visually impaired people unable to use tools that could significantly improve their independence, education, and participation in digital spaces. Accessibility, therefore, remains a privilege rather than a guaranteed right.

These experiences reflect a broader reality where patriarchy and ableism intersect, deciding who deserves access, autonomy, and dignity. Being a girl with a disability means I face double discrimination—both as a woman and as a visually impaired person. The lack of digital inclusion is not only about inaccessible apps and websites; it is about systems of power that exclude marginalised people from opportunities and rights.

Despite all these barriers, I remain very active in the digital space because it is an inseparable part of my life. Technology has given me strength, independence, and hope, but the journey has not been easy. For every tool that empowers me, some systems push me back.

Yes, a picture may speak for itself, but only if it is accessible to all. My story is not just about personal challenges; it is about the larger fight for autonomy, inclusion, and equality. Accessibility is not charity, and inclusion is not optional—it is a matter of justice.

I would like to close with this thought:

“Technology can empower, but only when it includes everyone. When accessibility is denied, autonomy is denied; and when autonomy is denied, humanity itself is limited.”