Let People Tell You Who They Are: Using Context to Navigate Human Connection

By Amanda Burke

The first thing most of us do when we meet someone is make assumptions. It’s not done intentionally. We notice appearance, voice, titles, credentials, and countless other signals. We fill in gaps without even realizing we’re doing it. Within seconds, we’ve started building a picture of who a person is and how they fit into the conversation. 

That’s one reason I’ve come to appreciate visual descriptions and self-descriptions. Most often, they’re discussed through the lens of accessibility. They help people who are blind or have low vision participate more fully in conversations. They provide context for individuals joining by phone. They ensure important information isn’t limited only to those who can see the room.

Those are important reasons. The more I experience visual descriptions in practice, the more I believe they offer something equally valuable: Context.

A visual description or self-description creates an opportunity to replace assumption with understanding. Instead of leaving people to guess, individuals can choose what information feels meaningful to share and how they would like to introduce themselves.

For example, I might say: “Hi, I’m Amanda. I’m a 40-something, fair-skinned, Black, biracial woman with brown curly hair and hazel eyes. I’m wearing a black blazer, and I have a flower in my hair. I’m also a proud member of the disability community. Today, I’m joining you from my home office, and I’m grateful to be here.”

What I find powerful about that introduction isn’t the physical description. It’s the perspective. Within a few sentences, you’ve learned something about how I experience the world. You’ve gained context that may help you understand the lens through which I speak, lead, advocate, and contribute.

You haven’t learned where I worked, what boards I serve on, what businesses I’ve built, or even my title. And that’s okay.

Because a visual description is not a résumé.It is not a bio. It is not a list of accomplishments. It is an invitation into context.

We aren’t sharing information so people know what we’ve done. We’re sharing information so people better understand how we experience the world.

That distinction matters.

A title tells you what someone does. A self-description can tell you something about how they navigate life. One speaks to credentials. The other speaks to perspective. Both have value, but they serve different purposes.

 

So Where Does the Visual Description Go?

 

One of the most common questions people ask is whether a visual description replaces a professional introduction.

It doesn’t.

Think of a visual description as an additional layer of context, not a replacement for credentials, expertise, or professional experience. In many settings, a visual description comes before or alongside a traditional introduction. A speaker may briefly describe themselves and then share their role, organization, or reason for participating in the conversation.

For example:

“Hi, I’m Amanda. I’m a 40-something, fair-skinned, Black, biracial woman with brown curly hair and hazel eyes. I’m wearing a black blazer, and I have a flower in my hair. I’m also a proud member of the disability community. Today, I’m joining you from my home office, and I’m grateful to be here. I’m the Founder and CEO of HumansHired, an AI-powered workforce navigation platform focused on helping people and communities connect to opportunity.”

Together, those elements provide both context and credentials.

• A visual description helps people understand how you experience the world.

• A professional introduction helps people understand why you’re in the room.

When combined, they create a fuller picture of the person speaking.

This becomes especially important when we think about experiences that may not be immediately visible. Disability, neurodiversity, military service, cultural background, race and ethnicity, first-generation experiences, and countless other aspects of our lives shape how we move through the world. Yet many of those experiences remain invisible unless we choose to share them.

A thoughtful self-description creates space for those realities without requiring anyone to disclose more than they wish to share. The goal is not a script. The goal is not forced disclosure. The goal is not perfection.

The goal is choice.

There is no perfect visual description. There is no required checklist. There is no universal formula. The most effective descriptions are the ones that feel authentic to the person sharing them.

At HumansHired, we spend a lot of time talking about navigation. How people navigate careers, systems, opportunities, barriers, and environments that weren’t always designed with them in mind. In many ways, visual descriptions are a form of navigation, too. They help people orient themselves within a conversation. They provide landmarks. They reduce guesswork. They create understanding. And understanding creates connection. 

Sometimes that connection is practical. A person who is blind gains access to information others receive automatically. Sometimes it is personal. Someone recognizes a piece of themselves in another person’s story. Sometimes it is perspective. A listener realizes they have been viewing the world through assumptions they never stopped to examine.

All of those outcomes begin the same way: Someone is given the opportunity to tell us who they are.

Not who we assume they are.

Not who their title says they are.

Not who their résumé says they are.

Who they are.

That may be one of the most human forms of access we can create. Not because it tells us everything about a person. Just enough that we can stop guessing and start understanding.

 

Key Takeaways

✓ A visual description invites people into your context and experience.

✓ A professional introduction helps people understand why you’re in the room.

✓ Context creates connection.

✓ Connection creates understanding.

 

Author’s Note

Visual descriptions, self-descriptions, and audio description practices have long been championed by blind and low-vision communities, disability advocates, accessibility practitioners, and inclusive event organizers. While practices vary across organizations and communities, their shared goal is simple: creating more accessible and inclusive spaces for participation, understanding, and connection.

This article reflects my personal perspective as a member of the disability community, a workforce strategist, and an advocate for human-centered design. The ideas shared here are informed by existing accessibility practices and my own experiences navigating professional, community, and leadership spaces. My intent is not to define a universal approach but to offer a perspective on why these practices have become meaningful in my own work and life.

About the Author

Amanda Burke is the Founder & Principal of Arivaii, a human-centered innovation and strategy practice focused on helping individuals, organizations, and communities navigate complexity with greater clarity, accessibility, and connection. Her work explores Human Navigation Design, an approach that examines how people move through systems, relationships, opportunities, and environments. As a member of the disability community and a workforce strategist with more than two decades of experience, Amanda is passionate about creating solutions that help people better understand one another and the world around them.