Yes, AI helped me write this

I tried to get (human) help for my AI-assisted work, only to realize I might be asking for too much. Where exactly do debates about ethical AI use leave disability, money, access, and energy?

Share
Yes, AI helped me write this
Credit to ChatGPT for both the artifact and the banner pointing it out. If that's not a sense of humour, I dunno what is.

This essay was originally published in Chronically Self Employed, my LinkedIn newsletter about disability, chronic illness, and building a workable life.

Recently, I put out a call for a collaborative art director and/or brand designer to help me sort out the brand identities I’ve been building.

I was looking for a human eye: someone who could take a look at the frankly ridiculous amount of work I’ve done across The Chronic Worker, Chronically Self-Employed, and SIPS and tell me what works, what doesn’t, and what I need to make the whole thing breathe.

Because I knew AI design isn’t enough.

A close friend who’s also a graphic designer recently pointed out a particularly wicked AI artifact in one of my images. She was right. It was there, it looked terrible, and I added it to the ever-growing list of things I need to fix as I gradually consolidate this project’s visual identity.

Then, a designer responding to my call recommended that I stop using AI-generated content because of its perceived low quality and inability to create accessible work—something he suggested went against my core values.

That one stayed with me.

I understand where he was coming from. Gen AI is threatening the work of extraordinarily talented people whose skill, judgment, and creative intuition can’t be replaced by typing prompts into a machine. Human designers deserve respect, protection, creative control, and fair payment.

But a legitimate concern doesn't automatically mean a fair judgment.

I don’t need anyone to convince me that a talented human designer can produce better work than AI. That’s why I was looking for a talented human designer in the first place.

But the assumption beneath it was that I could simply stop using the technology and end up with the same result. That mindset leaves disability, money, energy, and capacity out of the equation entirely.

Right now, AI is one of the main tools that makes my work with TCW, SIPS, and CSE possible. It helps me turn ideas into something tangible while I build toward the human support I know the work needs. I’m not pretending it’s perfect. I’m actively asking for help identifying and correcting its limitations.

But now I’m wondering if I’m asking for too much...or maybe the wrong thing? Is it reasonable to ask a designer to evaluate—and potentially build on—AI-assisted work? Would a smaller visual-system audit be fairer and more useful? Or do I simply need to wait until some currently imaginary funding arrives?

Beneath all those practical questions is the lurking one I find much harder to articulate:

Will people take my work seriously once they know AI helped me make it?

Is AI not considered a legitimate assistive technology? Does my project still "count"?

Because, yes, AI helped me write this post. It helped me sort through a long voice memo, identify the questions, and organize my thoughts into words. I supplied the experience, argument, judgment, corrections, audio, and final decisions.

If knowing that changes how seriously you take the piece—or me—I genuinely want to understand why. And if I were to say I’m disabled and use AI as supportive technology, would that change your mind?

Why or why not?

I really want to learn what you think! Join the convo on the original LinkedIn edition.


Art directors, I'm still looking!

The question of AI is a legitimate one and I get that. I don't blame anyone for feeling some kind of way about it.

But if you do happen to be excited about helping me shape a pretty darned cool little visual world at the crux of human and AI design, I'd still love to hear from you!

Elsewhere in my apparently busy life...

If you’re looking for disability-friendly work, I recently published a practical guide to job boards and employment resources for disabled and chronically ill workers.

Next up, the first Chronic Ways of Working story features Jill Knobeloch Mills—and the strange, surprisingly long history behind what eventually became SIPS.

And if you’re wondering what SIPS actually is, start with Apparently, I’ve been busy or catch up on the Month One field report.