BCBusiness
Advocate and entrepreneur Margaux Wosk challenges ableist employment systems in B.C. by forging their own path. As President of BC People First and founder of the inclusive brand Retrophiliac, they highlight the systemic barriers disabled entrepreneurs face—and why self-employment remains their most accessible option.
Margaux Wosk is an award-winning, self-employed Autistic and disabled advocate based in British Columbia. They are the President of BC People First and design inclusive merchandise through their brand, Retrophiliac.
For as long as I can remember, employment has not always felt like a place where I fit in. It was often difficult to have my accommodations and needs respected. As an autistic, disabled person living in Vancouver, I have often been left with two choices: try to survive in systems that were never designed for me, or create something of my own. For me, entrepreneurship has become a path that has worked in my favour.
Most job postings claim to value inclusion, yet the reality often falls short. Many workplaces expect rigid schedules, sensory-heavy environments, and unspoken social rules that are not accessible to me. I have often felt like one misstep could cost me everything. Interviews can feel high-pressure and exclusionary for people like me who communicate differently.
Even when organizations celebrate “diversity,” disabled entrepreneurs are rarely considered part of the conversation. We are often left out of discussions about disability and employment, which feels like an ableist tactic.
I have had countless experiences where ableist comments and outdated language were treated as harmless or normal. More often than not, the burden falls on disabled people to correct others, which comes at a cost to our mental health. Being expected to fix systems without compensation reinforces that traditional workplaces were not designed for us. When we do participate, we are often tokenized to benefit those at the top of a business, rather than being genuinely valued for our contributions.
Living and working while disabled in B.C. also means navigating a complicated web of government support. Disability assistance can provide a financial lifeline, but it comes with strict limits that are not enough. The moment a disabled person earns “too much” through self-employment or part-time work, they risk losing access to disability funding. The Self-Employment Program allows business write-offs, but the annual earnings exemption is far too low.
View this post on Instagram A post shared by Margaux (@retrophiliacart)
A post shared by Margaux (@retrophiliacart)
This creates a cruel paradox. We are encouraged to pursue independence, but punished if we succeed beyond a narrow threshold. Self-employment is not for everyone, and those who cannot or choose not to work are equally valid and deserving of support. Assistance programs also fail to account for fluctuating income, extra medical costs, or the challenges of finding stable employment as a disabled person. Instead of helping us thrive, the system pressures us to stay small to avoid losing the little we have.
The economy presents further challenges. The tariff situation with the United States makes it harder to sustain a small business without meaningful resources.
For me, entrepreneurship has been a way forward, but not without hurdles. Running a small business requires covering production costs, managing shipping logistics, and constantly advocating for myself in spaces where disabled creators are overlooked. Unlike employees with benefits or job security, self-employed disabled people are often excluded from government conversations about “inclusive employment.”
I also encounter pushback when advocating for grants instead of loans. Many corporations with billions in annual profits receive millions from government allocations for accessible employment or infrastructure upgrades, which they could easily fund themselves. Often, these business owners are not disabled. While I appreciate improved accessibility for employees, it highlights a stark inequality. It is acceptable to be disabled and work for someone else, but if you are disabled and work for yourself, you are on your own.
Despite these challenges, working for myself has been the most accessible option. It allows me to set my own schedule, manage tasks around my energy levels, and avoid overwhelming environments. I can create products that reflect my lived experiences and values, rather than suppressing them to fit a mould. Most importantly, I never feel tokenized. While neuro-affirming workplaces exist, they are rare.
Entrepreneurship has given me control over my narrative. Instead of waiting to be invited into professional spaces where I am often excluded, I create my own. I am not welcome at accessibility galas or included in large conversations about accessibility because I challenge the status quo. I should be included, yet I am often overlooked because I do not fit others’ ideas of who belongs. Many organizations claim to value inclusion, but their actions often do not reflect those words.
My business has previously sustained me financially, though I am struggling right now. What keeps me going is the community I connect with: people who value disability pride, neurodiversity, and authentic representation. They understand my fight for disability inclusion in employment. I am also the current president of BC People First, so advocating for disability rights feels full circle. My business is not only my work, it is my passion.
For those considering self-employment, here are a few lessons I have learned:
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