As a student in the Dworak-Peck School of Social Work, I constantly hear talk of compassion, empathy and respect for all people. These words fill course syllabi, fieldwork reflections and mission statements. Society similarly tells people with disabilities to be independent, but then it forces them to stay dependent on the government to keep that independence.

However, for many people with disabilities, the systems built to support them often do not empower them. Systems watch, record, restrict and even dictate aspects of their lives, from whether they can get married to how much money they can save.

Take the Supplemental Security Income program as an example. People who receive government support under the program can’t have more than $2,000 in individual savings or assets without losing eligibility. Marrying someone with savings or assets means the combined income cannot exceed $3,000 or benefits are cut off.

That’s not $2,000 or $3,000 per month. No, that’s $2,000 or $3,000 total. Both of these limits have not been changed since 1989.

SSI eligibility is directly tied to Medicaid in most states, meaning that when someone qualifies for SSI, they may also automatically qualify for Medicaid. Medicaid then serves as a gateway to vital in-home support services, like personal care assistance.

Therefore, if a person’s income or assets rise above SSI’s strict limits, they risk losing their SSI benefits and Medicaid coverage. Losing coverage often takes away access to the personal care services that support independent living.

Imagine that trade-off: people can have stability but only at the cost of independence; people can have safety, but it comes with strings attached. It’s a cruel kind of math problem that asks people with disabilities to choose between security and self-determination.

This isn’t just about money. It’s about control. When people’s rent, healthcare or food access depends on proving they’re “disabled enough,” every form, caseworker visit and review becomes a reminder that their autonomy is conditional.

These systems were designed to foster independence, yet they actually reward dependency. They measure compliance instead of capacity. They call it protection, but it often feels like permission.

At USC, we’re taught to meet clients where they are. But what happens when clients are trapped by the very safety nets they uphold? What happens when support feels less like a hand up and more like a hand holding the leash? People can also feel this pressure from social workers.

Social work has a surveillance problem. Not because social workers are malicious, but rather it’s because the systems we operate in are built on distrust. They assume people will take advantage if they are not constantly monitored.

That assumption trickles down to practice. We ask clients to “prove” their needs, recount their traumas and justify their lives. We tell ourselves it’s protocol, but for the person sitting across from us, it’s exhaustion disguised as eligibility.

USC social worker students will soon join a profession that holds immense power in determining who qualifies for services, gets extensions and is “compliant.” Every recommendation, note and checkbox carries weight. They can either reinforce the system or start to rebuild it.

So what does real empowerment look like?

Real empowerment means creating programs that bend rather than break when someone thrives. It assumes capability first and makes space for growth without punishment.

That might mean advocating to raise income caps so people can actually save money, pushing for benefits that phase out gradually or redesigning intake processes so people don’t have to relive their worst days just to get help.

It also means recognizing lived experience as an expertise: people with disabilities don’t need to be interrogated; we need to be believed. Systems are too often designed for people with disabilities instead of with them, which is where the disempowerment begins.

Empowerment happens when power stops being taken away. What if we built systems that actually expected people with disabilities to succeed instead of automatically assuming failure? This means redefining accountability to emphasize co-creation through asking what barriers are currently in place and how we can dismantle them together.

People with disabilities deserve systems that allow them to take risks, make choices and learn from mistakes, just like anyone else. Independence shouldn’t come with income caps, relationship restrictions or an interrogation of their lives. Support should expand possibility, not shrink it.

The next generation of USC social workers has the chance to rewrite that story. Whether they work in healthcare, policy or direct practice, they can challenge the reflex of control with a commitment to trust.

When support becomes surveillance, independence withers. When trust becomes the foundation, however, autonomy grows roots. USC should stand for the kind of empowerment that doesn’t simply check boxes but also changes lives.

Lilly Grossman is a social work graduate student writing about accessibility and campus culture in her column, “The Quiet Part,” which runs every other Thursday. She is also the diversity, equity, inclusion and accessibility director at the Daily Trojan.