My mother lives with Multiple Sclerosis. My sister was born with Cerebral Palsy. So when I say the accessible housing shortage is a real problem, I'm not quoting a market report — I'm describing my family's life.
But the numbers back it up, and they're worse than most people assume.
The data
HUD's analysis of the American Housing Survey found:
- Less than 1% of US housing units are accessible for wheelchair users.
- About 0.15% are fully wheelchair accessible.
- Less than 5% are accessible for people with even moderate mobility difficulties.
- About a third of the housing stock is potentially modifiable — meaning the bones are there, but the work hasn't been done.
Meanwhile, roughly one in four US adults lives with some form of disability, according to the CDC, and that share climbs steeply with age.
Put those side by side. A quarter of adults, and a fraction of one percent of homes.
What this looks like in practice
It means a family gets a diagnosis and discovers their house has become an obstacle course.
It means a 34-inch doorway — two inches too narrow for a wheelchair — decides whether someone can use their own bathroom.
It means a veteran comes home to a house with a single step at the front door and no way in.
It means families move not because they want a different neighborhood, but because a bathtub has a wall around it.
And because so few accessible homes exist, the ones that do command a premium — which lands hardest on households already carrying the costs of a disability.
The features that actually matter
"Accessible" gets thrown around loosely. In practice, a handful of things determine whether a home works:
Non-negotiables for a wheelchair user:
- Zero-step entry — at least one entrance with no step at all
- 32 inches of clear width at every doorway used for access (a 36-inch door typically nets you this)
- A 5-foot turning radius in bathrooms and kitchens
- A roll-in shower or a curbless entry, not a tub with a seat
- Reachable controls — light switches, outlets, thermostats, and cabinet hardware at usable heights
- Single-level living, or a home that can genuinely accommodate a lift
Things that help enormously and cost little in new construction:
- Blocking in the bathroom walls for future grab bars — a few dollars of lumber during framing, thousands to retrofit later
- Lever handles instead of round knobs
- A bedroom and full bath on the entry level
- Wider hallways
That blocking point is the one that frustrates me most. Putting plywood behind the drywall during framing costs almost nothing. Once the walls are closed, adding a properly anchored grab bar means opening them back up.
Why the market hasn't solved this
Three reasons, and none of them are that developers are villains.
1. Accessibility is invisible to the appraisal. A zero-step entry and a 36-inch door don't show up as a line item the way a granite countertop does. A builder who spends money there often can't recover it in the appraised value.
2. Demand looks smaller than it is. Most buyers aren't searching for accessible features until they urgently need them — and by then they're searching under time pressure, often after a hospital discharge, when inventory is whatever exists today.
3. Retrofitting is expensive and often impossible. Widening a load-bearing wall or regrading an entry costs real money. Doing it at build time costs nearly nothing. The window to solve it cheaply closes before anyone's thinking about it.
What can actually be done
If you're modifying a home: Arizona has resources most families never hear about. Ability360 is the best starting point in the Phoenix area for independent living services and referrals. The VA offers adaptation grants for eligible veterans — SAH and SHA. Some Area Agency on Aging programs fund modifications for qualifying older adults. Apply early; these programs have waitlists.
If you're buying: look for modifiable homes, not just accessible ones. A single-level house on a flat lot with a slab foundation and reasonable hallway widths can often be adapted well. A two-story on a sloped lot with narrow halls frequently can't, at any price.
If you're building or renovating: add the blocking. Widen the doors. Put one bathroom on the ground floor that a wheelchair can actually turn around in. During framing these decisions are rounding errors. Afterward they're demolition.
If you're an investor: this is an underserved segment with durable demand, and doing it right is compatible with doing it profitably. Accessible co-living in particular can serve people who'd otherwise be pushed into institutional settings — at a fraction of the cost.
Why I'm building toward this
I flag accessibility potential on every property I touch, whether the client asked me to or not. Sometimes it matters to them. Sometimes it matters to the next buyer. Occasionally somebody tells me it's the reason they chose the house.
Longer term, I'm building accessible co-living and ground-up accessible housing in Arizona through SMOOVE Living Co. — Accessible Living Everywhere — with a focus on the disability and veteran communities. That's the mission behind the brand, and it's why the phrase "bridging the gap in ADA housing" shows up on my about page instead of something about luxury listings.
Housing isn't accessible by accident. Someone has to decide to build it that way.
Looking for an accessible home in Arizona, or want to build one? Reach out. This one's personal for me, and I'll spend time on it that the transaction doesn't justify.
Sources: HUD USER — Assessing the Accessibility of America's Housing Stock · HUD — Accessibility in Housing, 2019 AHS · CDC — Disability Impacts All of Us
Questions about your specific situation? Call or text me at (602) 902-8400, or send me a message. I answer these myself.
This post is general information, not legal, tax, or financial advice. Arizona real estate law and lending guidelines change. Confirm anything time-sensitive with your own attorney, CPA, or lender before acting on it.
