Rejection rarely comes stamped with a bold, clear “No.” Instead, it arrives softly, in a whisper, hiddenamong lost forms, endless phone calls, and the mysterious disappearance of documents you know you submitted.
Initially, I blamed myself—maybe my handwriting was too messy or I forgot to sign page twelve? But then I noticed others,folks just as diligent as me, hitting the same invisible hurdles:
- Disabled people re-verifyingpermanent conditions repeatedly.
- Trans folks pushed away from affirming procedures labeled“nonessential.”
- Older adults stuck proving their frailty despite needing obvious help.
Friction rarely comes labeled “You cost too much,” yet that’s exactly what it conveys. Thesesystems quietly nudge out anyone deemed too expensive.
In Actuarial Medicine & Hidden Exclusion, I show how indefinite or complex needs get quietlynudged away—in healthcare, jobs, or social systems built for minimal overhead.
Sorted Like a State
Ancient states once mapped wild, irregular farmland into tidy grids, simplifying tax collection but erasing forests and streamsfrom the map. Our modern bureaucracies perform a similar magic trick, flattening beautifully complex humans into simple price tags.
If your needs fit neatly into fifteen-minute appointments or quick-fix solutions, the system welcomes you warmly. But if your
needs stretch indefinitely—ongoing therapy, specialized equipment, unpredictable schedules—you encounter polite butrelentless friction.
Every now and then atragedy emerges—someone dies waiting for a procedure or burns out from inadequate support. Outrage spikes. Institutions respondwith tiny improvements: a pilot program, new forms. Once the spotlight fades, the status quo endures.
These mid-level changesoften appear as progress while ignoring the deeper idea that certain people are just “too big a burden.” Some resourcesare patched in, but nothing truly shifts. The labyrinth stands.
In Mesopower and the Shaping of Possibility, I call these mid-level moves "mesopower"—theychampion reform without challenging the deeper premise.
Tech Enables Exclusion at Warp Speed
Today,technology promises salvation: automated claim reviews, AI doctors, digital checklists. In theory, these could ease our paths ifdesigned with compassion. But cost-cutting motives have transformed these tools into supercharged sorting machines, swiftly labelingus “too expensive” before we’ve finished typing our names.
Algorithms reflect the values of those who createthem; code might look neutral, but the underlying assumptions decide who’s welcome. Digital “innovation” oftenintensifies the labyrinth rather than dismantling it.
My own experiences as an autistic person show how frictionplays out—even in workplaces touting “inclusion.” They may celebrate diversity, but rarely alter tasks or environments to accommodate genuine differences. Overtime, the constant mismatch leads to meltdowns or burnout.
It looks like a personal failing—“you couldn’tcope”—but the real culprit is a system unwilling to adapt. Friction doesn’t explicitly say, “We won’tchange,” but you’re left with no alternative but to quit.
In The Autistic Tendency to Disappear, I explore how friction quietly pushes people out.
After enough heartbreak—missing paperwork, contradictory forms, repeated dead ends—people often stoptrying. From outside, it may seem like they “gave up.” Internally, it’s self-preservation: you learn the system wasnever designed to serve “costly” needs.
That sense of disaffection can lead to hidden solidarity—one we recognize that many others facethe same friction-based ejection.
Reclaiming “Expensive” Without Shame
I used to hide my own needs, afraidto ask for therapy or accommodations. Eventually, I realized the scandal lies in a society that calculates ongoing or complexrequirements as unworthy.
Calling myself “expensive” reveals that budgets are moral stances, not inescapable facts.It lifts the shame from us and places it on a structure that decides some complexities aren’t worth covering.
In Nobody is Too Expensive, I argue shame fades when we see budgets aspolicy decisions, not inevitable truths. We find money for executive salaries and endless “fraud checks,” but balk atongoing or complex care?
Minor tweaks won’t dismantle a system wired to exclude. We need a radical ethic of care that refuses to shrink humanity:
- No More Endless Proof for chronic or permanent conditions.
- Truly AdaptiveWorkplaces—flexible roles, supportive environments, genuine communication.
- Tech That Helps, NotFilters—algorithms proactively offering assistance instead of default denials.
We choose: eitherbudgets overshadow human needs, or human needs overshadow budgets. Once we see friction’s true purpose, we notice older adults,trans folks, disabled parents, and neurodivergent colleagues all quietly labeled as “too expensive.” Real solidarityemerges when we recognize we’re in the same labyrinth.
By naming friction-based exclusion, we confront the moral stancebehind “We can’t afford that.” Authentic inclusion invests in every complexity, tearing down the labyrinth insteadof merely repainting it.
I used to reduce my therapy needs and mask my real self, terrified of being “too big anask.” Learning about friction’s deliberate design changed that. We’re not the burden—our complexityisn’t the problem.
Calling ourselves “expensive” exposes budgets as moral choices, not cosmic laws.Together, we can create a world where we never shrink to survive—where friction-based exclusion surrenders to radical care. Weinvest in every life. Period.