Most things get built for the "average person." That person does not exist. This program shows you a different way. You start with the people the system fails the hardest. You build for them first. Then something strange and wonderful happens: it works better for everybody. Six steps. That's the whole thing.
Three things I believe
- 01
Build around the people who are pushed to the edges, and everyone ends up better off.
- 02
New ideas start where identities overlap. Nobody is just one thing. Where several things stack up on one person — that’s where a system fails hardest, and that’s where the best ideas are waiting.
- 03
Turn pain into projects. The thing that hurt you is not just a wound. It’s information. It’s a map. It’s the start of something you can build.
Why "The Overlap"?
Picture three circles that sit on top of each other. Not crossing. Overlapping. Each circle is a part of who someone is. Deaf. Grew up poor. Speaks Spanish at home. The little patch in the middle where all three sit on top of each other is a real person — and that person hits problems no one in any single circle hits alone.
All three at once is not three problems. It's a different problem. And nobody designed for it, because everybody designed for one circle at a time. That middle patch is the overlap. It's where the system tells the truth about itself.
The idea has a name and an author: intersectionality, named by Kimberlé Crenshaw in 1989. She was writing about Black women losing discrimination cases — because the court would look at race, then look at gender, and never look at both together. The harm that only happened at the overlap was invisible to the law. Say her name when you teach this.
And why overlap, not "crossing"? A cross is an X, and an X means cancelled. Nothing here gets cancelled. Things stack. A person carrying four things at once isn't diminished — they're carrying more information about your system than anyone else in the building. Overlap is addition. That's the right word.
Some things only show up in the overlap. You cannot find them one circle at a time.
The story I open with
In 1950, the U.S. Air Force had a problem. Their pilots kept crashing. The planes were fine. The training was fine. So they looked at the cockpit — built to fit the "average pilot" across ten measurements. Then a young lieutenant named Gilbert Daniels measured 4,063 pilots and asked one question: how many are actually average on all ten?The answer was zero.
They had built a cockpit for a man who did not exist, and pilots were dying in it. The fix wasn't a better average. They made the seat move. They made the straps adjust. They made the pedals slide. Your car seat moves because a bunch of pilots didn't fit an average.
Build for the average and you build something that fits nobody. Build for the overlap and you build something that fits everybody. And notice why the average failed: any one pilot might be average on height, or arm reach. The average only broke down when you asked for all ten at once. The average died in the overlap.

The proof you can point at
Look down at any street corner. That little ramp cut into the curb was built in 1945 in Kalamazoo, Michigan, for disabled soldiers coming home in wheelchairs. Now: parents with strollers, kids on bikes, delivery carts, anybody dragging a suitcase, you carrying groceries. Built for a few. Ends up helping everybody.
Same story everywhere. Captions were for Deaf people; now everyone watches TV with them on. Voice control was for people who couldn't type; now it's in your car. Dark mode was for low vision; now you turn it on because you like it. That's not a nice story. That's a method.
Where this comes from
I did not make this up. Disability justice was started in 2005 by Patty Berne, Mia Mingus, Stacey Park Milbern and others at Sins Invalid. In 2015 they wrote down ten principles. Their first principle is intersectionality — they quote Audre Lorde: we do not live single-issue lives. Their second principle runs this whole program: the people most affected should lead. Not be asked. Not be surveyed. Lead.
Being straight with you: disability justice is a movement, not a business tool. One of its ten principles is against the way capitalism works — and here I am, in a bow tie, selling you a method. That's a real tension and I'm not going to pretend it isn't there. So here's my deal. I name where this came from, every time. The people I work with get paid like the experts they are. They get their names on the work. A set share of what I earn goes to disability-led groups. If I ever stop doing that, call me on it.
