For families of children with disabilities, the past year has been a whirlwind of anxiety, confusion, and, for many, heartbreak. Sweeping federal budget cuts and a sharp turn against diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiatives have left thousands scrambling to find the support they once counted on. Nowhere is this crisis felt more acutely than in states like Wisconsin, where the Trump administration’s recent moves have upended the lives of children and families who rely on specialized support to navigate extraordinary challenges.
Casey and Leah Garner, a couple from Reedsburg, Wisconsin, had always dreamed of a big family. After years of infertility, they turned to adoption, welcoming a newborn daughter, Annie, three years ago. It was at the hospital that Casey first noticed the tiny flaps of skin where Annie’s ears should be. Soon, the Garners learned that Annie was not only deaf, but also had poor vision, a developmental disability, and weak muscles. "I was out there looking for anything and everything that could help us," Casey Garner, now 34, told The New York Times. The Wisconsin Deafblind Project, a state program supporting families of children with combined vision and hearing loss, became their lifeline.
Through the program, the Garners met other families facing similar situations, learned sign language from a mentor, and received sensory toys and Braille books for Annie. Most importantly, Annie made a best friend with a similar condition—something her parents had feared might never happen. The program’s impact was profound, giving Annie and her family hope and community.
But in September 2025, that lifeline was abruptly threatened. The Trump administration canceled the five-year, $918,000 federal grant that funded the Wisconsin Deafblind Project, which supports about 170 children like Annie. Simultaneously, a $10.5 million grant for recruiting and retaining special education teachers in the state was also cut. According to The New York Times, similar programs in seven other Democratic-leaning states were slashed, all for referencing DEI goals in their grant applications.
President Donald Trump’s approach to DEI has been unambiguous since his return to office. Early in 2025, he signed an executive order targeting DEI initiatives across the government, including those tied to federal grants. The administration’s rationale, as explained by Education Department spokesperson Savannah Newhouse, is that many of these programs "use overt race preferences or perpetuate divisive concepts and stereotypes, which no student should be exposed to." In a statement, Newhouse said the grant money would be "reinvested to better serve special needs students." Yet, for families like the Garners, the reality feels far from better.
The Wisconsin Deafblind Project, for instance, was penalized for prioritizing applicants from underrepresented and historically marginalized groups, as well as for efforts to contract with women, minority business owners, or disabled veterans. The same story played out in other states: programs that cited DEI goals lost their funding, with appeals swiftly denied by Trump officials. The National Center on Deafblindness, an umbrella organization, has stepped in with temporary funding, but warns it can only support these programs for one more year.
For the roughly 10,000 children in the United States who qualify as deafblind—most with additional disabilities—these dollars are vital. "For this small number, these dollars meant the world," Jolene Gruber, grant coordinator for the Wisconsin program, told The New York Times.
Sid Miller, a 19-year-old from Belgium, Wisconsin, who is deafblind, credits the program with teaching him to advocate for himself. He learned to request accommodations like live captions and a sighted guide—skills that now help him study graphic design at a technical college. Miller has even contributed to the program, creating 3D-printed objects to help other deafblind children visualize new experiences. He worries about the next generation. "It’s kind of cruel," Miller said, reflecting on the potential loss of opportunity for younger students.
Liam Anderson, another Wisconsin resident, lost his hearing and vision at age three after contracting meningitis and suffering a stroke. His mother, Jodi Anderson, described her first call to the program as "one of the best phone calls ever." The support they received—training interpreters, teaching tactile sign language, and providing Braille books—transformed Liam’s life. With help from an "intervener," a specialized interpreter, Liam joined his high school marching band and now takes drum lessons. Today, Braille books are scattered throughout the Anderson home, and Liam is making his way through the book of Leviticus.
The cuts have not been limited to education. According to USA Today, the Trump administration has also proposed slashing federal funding for the National Disability Rights Network, which represents state-based advocacy groups fighting for the rights of disabled Americans. The White House’s proposed budget for fiscal year 2026 would reduce funding from $148 million to $69 million—a move that advocates warn would drastically limit access to legal help for disabled Americans and could force them out of their communities, ultimately increasing costs for taxpayers.
These legal advocates play a crucial role in ensuring that the federal government lives up to its promises under the Americans with Disabilities Act and similar laws. As George Washington University health law professor Alison Barkoff explained to USA Today, "These are people who, if these supports are ripped away, are going to have to leave their communities and their families, at a higher cost for taxpayers." She emphasized that many families only learn about these legal resources when they’re in crisis—often after a desperate internet search for help.
The story of Isaac Schreier, a seven-year-old with osteogenesis imperfecta (brittle bone disease), illustrates the stakes. After suffering around 60 bone fractures, Isaac needed a specialized wheelchair costing $3,500. When Medicaid denied coverage, Disability Rights Iowa, a federally funded advocacy group, stepped in. Their attorneys successfully appealed the decision, securing the wheelchair Isaac needed. "It’s absolutely night and day. I can’t imagine a world where we didn’t have it," Isaac’s father, Jake, told USA Today.
Other Trump administration decisions have also sparked backlash. The White House’s removal of American Sign Language (ASL) interpreters from press briefings drew condemnation from advocacy groups and was ultimately ruled illegal by U.S. District Judge Amir Ali. Despite the ruling, Trump’s legal team argued that ASL interpreters would harm the president’s public image and force him to "share his platform," according to The Independent.
For families like the Garners, the cuts feel both bewildering and deeply personal. "It seems like it should be a group of kids that everyone wants to help," Casey Garner said. "Taking away help from deafblind kids? I don’t understand." On a recent afternoon, as Annie played with her communication tablet—taught to her by program staff—she tapped out a message: "I am a beautiful person who is the best." For now, Annie still has her support network. But for how much longer remains an open question, as families across the country brace for what comes next.
