The Cost of Advocacy: Systemic Blindness

No parent sends their child to school hoping for a fight.

They send them hoping for belonging, safety, and joy.
They send them believing that school is a place where childhood is protected, not chipped away.

But when something starts to go wrong, the ground shifts. Families are confronted with impossible decisions.
Do they speak up and risk being labelled difficult?
Do they stay quiet and hope things improve?
Do they keep pushing and risk retaliation?
Do they pull back and risk their child going without what they need?

This is the hidden cost of advocacy. It is rarely acknowledged, yet it is carried by families every day.

Behind every email, every meeting, and every documented concern is a parent trying to weigh the consequences of protecting their child. Advocacy is not a choice for them. It is something they are drawn into when the system fails to meet its responsibilities. It is paid for in stress, lost sleep, self-doubt, and the quiet fear that their child may be affected by their efforts to speak up or lost in a system if they don't.

Families are told in subtle and not so subtle ways that the school is the expert. They are expected to play by rules they do not understand, rules that are never explained, and rules that shift depending on who holds the power in the room.

And when they try to navigate those rules, they are told not to question.
They are told not to make waves.
They are warned that if they speak too loudly, the support their child receives may shift.

This is not partnership. This is power.

Too often, advocacy is framed as conflict.
Parents are told they are fighting the school.
They are positioned against the system rather than within it.
Those who raise concerns are labeled defiant or difficult.
The narrative becomes us versus them, even though families are simply asking for what the law already promises their children.

Advocacy is not an act of aggression. It is an act of care.
It is not a fight. It is a response to unmet needs and unaddressed barriers.
It is not defiance. It is a commitment to a child’s dignity, safety, and belonging.

In the imbalance of power, shame and guilt take root.
Am I overreacting?
If I do not fight harder, am I failing my child?
Am I making it worse?
Why does it feel like no one else sees what is happening?

You are not alone, even when the weight of this work makes it feel like you are.

Advocacy emerges when parents are left to shoulder responsibilities that should never fall solely on them. It is what happens when systems expect silence instead of accountability and when families are forced to name the gaps that others overlook.

And while the emotional cost is high, the purpose is clear. Families speak up because their children deserve safety, dignity, and real inclusion. Their voices reveal what the system prefers to keep quiet. They highlight the harm, the inconsistencies, and the structural barriers that must be addressed.

If you are supporting families who are navigating this weight, remember this. Their worry makes sense. Their courage is justified. Their child deserves everything they are fighting for.

The truth is not the problem.
The people who name the harm are not the issue.
They are the signal of whether the environment is safe, responsive, and just.

And until every child is protected, supported, and genuinely included, these voices will continue to rise. They are necessary. They are powerful. They are the signal that something must change.