Protection, at its core, is about safeguarding those most at risk. Yet, an uncomfortable question persists: what happens when protection systems themselves are excluded?

Ableism: understood as discrimination or bias that privileges non disabled people and treats them as the norm, is deeply embedded in many social systems. The protection sector is no exception. Often unintentionally, it reproduces the very inequalities it seeks to dismantle.

In practice, ableism in protection is rarely explicit. It shows up in the assumptions we make: that a human rights defender can relocate quickly, that they can access information in standard formats, or that risk assessments apply equally to everyone. These assumptions reflect a broader societal tendency to design systems around a “default” body and mind, sidelining those who do not fit that mold.

The consequences are profound. Persons with disabilities, particularly human rights defenders, experience layered risks. They face the same threats as their peers, compounded by stigma, isolation, and structural barriers. Yet protection responses often fail to recognize this intersectionality. Instead, persons with disabilities are frequently positioned as passive recipients of support rather than active agents shaping their own protection strategies.

This raises a deeper issue: ableism in protection is not only about access, it is about power. Who defines risk? Who designs protection mechanisms? And whose experiences are considered when decisions are made?

When safe houses are inaccessible, when emergency protocols rely on mobility or sensory assumptions, or when communication excludes sign language or alternative formats, protection becomes conditional. It works for some, but not for all.

Challenging ableism requires more than inclusion as an afterthought. It calls for a shift in how protection is imagined and practiced, from standardized approaches to adaptive, co created ones. Anti-ableism, at its simplest, begins by recognizing these biases and actively working to dismantle them.

This article is not a conclusion but an invitation. An invitation to question, to reflect, and to listen more closely to those whose experiences have long been marginalized within protection work.

If protection is to be meaningful, it must be reimagined, not for persons with disabilities, but with them.