By Gabriele CEPAVICIUTE
The 1994 American comedy-drama film “Forrest Gump”, directed by Robert Zemeckis, tells the story of a man who moves through life by constantly adapting to the world around him. Early in the film, a young Forrest, wearing leg braces and being chased by other children, is urged forward with the now-iconic line: “Run, Forrest, run!” The braces fall off, and this moment is framed as liberation. What follows is a life defined by movement: running through school, into the Vietnam War, and even across the country. For many viewers, this is an inspiring story of perseverance and “overcoming” limitations such as disability through determination. However, this raises an important question: if disability is understood as a “challenge”, is it really the individual who faces it, or is it something society has imposed?
Disability is often presented as an individual struggle, an obstacle to be overcome, yet much of this “struggle” does not emerge from the body itself, but from the environment in which that body exists. A wheelchair does not prevent movement, but stairs do. Individual learning needs alone do not exclude the student, but rigid education systems do. If disability was purely an individual limitation, there would not be such consistent patterns of exclusion. According to The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation (UNESCO), children with disabilities are two to three times more likely to be out of school than their non-disabled peers. Similarly, workplaces that lack basic accomodations—such as flexible schedules, assistive technologies, or accessible infrastucture—create barriers that have little to do with ability or willingness to work. The World Health Organization (WHO) estimates that around 16% of the global population lives with a disability, yet employment rates for this group remain between 30% to 50%, compared to about 75% for non-disabled individuals. What is framed as a personal limitation is therefore the result of collective decisions about whose needs are prioritized.
Despite this, the dominant societal response to disability is not change, but emotional reaction. People with disabilities are often met with sympathy or admiration, to the extent that even ordinary actions, such as going to the grocery store independently, are framed as extraordinary. While this may appear as compassionate, it is ultimately passive. It acknowledges difficulty without questioning its cause, allowing observers to feel moral without requiring them to act. In this sense, the expression of “overcoming” plays a crucial role, because to describe disability as a “challenge” suggests that difficulty is inherent, while describing individuals as “overcoming” frames the obstacle as internal rather than structural. In contrast, accessibility demands something less comfortable—it requires redesigning spaces, policies and redistributing resources. In many European cities, historic buildings remain inaccessible due to preservation priorities, highlighting how exclusion is maintained in the name of tradition. Accessibility, however, shifts responsibility from individuals to institutions, where decision-makers often do not experience these barriers themselves. This is why sympathy is more common—it costs nothing. It is far easier to turn to emotions and admire individuals for overcoming obstacles than to remove those obstacles altogether.
Finally, if the problem is structural, then the solutions must be structural as well. Accessibility cannot be treated as a luxury, but must be integrated into society as a natural part of it. This includes designing spaces that are accessible from the start, rather than rebuilding them later, and consulting people with disabilities directly. Research by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) suggests that up to 40% of the population benefits from accessible design at some point in their lives, including elderly individuals, parents with strollers and those with temporary injuries. This challenges the assumption that accessibility is a “special accommodation”, instead of being a public good. The goal is not to make people with disabilities better at adapting to the world, but to create a world that does not require constant adaptation in order to belong.
There is a reason why “Forrest Gump” remains so widely known. Much like its famous line, “Life is like a box of chocolates—you never know what you’re gonna get,” the film presents uncertainty as something to be accepted rather than questioned. It offers comfort, especially to those who are not required to face systemic barriers themselves. It reassures audiences that perseverance is enough, and that individuals can succeed without the world changing. However, this comes at a cost: it shifts attention away from structures that make succeeding inaccessible in the first place. Disability is not a personal failure to overcome, but a reflection of a world that has been built without everyone in mind. And if this world can be constructed, it can also be changed. For this reason the “challenge” is not in the people who have a disability, but the society that creates these barriers.
