Or: Why Overlays Aren’t the Accessibility Silver Bullet They Claim to Be

“Just add one line of code,” they said. “You’ll be compliant,” they said.

And yet here we are.

Accessibility overlays promise quick fixes, full compliance, and no developer involvement. But in reality? They rarely deliver. And when they do, it’s often at the cost of user experience, reliability, or both.

If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

Parody cartoon of Victorian-era snake oil salesmen. Taffy, a Siamese cat, presents the viewer a bottle labelled "Taffy's amazing accessibility elixir" with the Vitruvian Man logo slapped in the middle. Taffy's wearing a bowler hat and has a pointy moustache. He smiles with a wink.

What is an overlay?

Before we go any further, let’s define our terms. Overlays come in a few flavors. (Spoiler alert: none of them are the magical fix they claim to be.)

Mockup of a typical accessibility overlay. It's a widget that floats over the webpage, with icons representing different senses and visual controls. A cursor hovers over one of the buttons with a skull and crossbones.

Type 1: The Box

This is the visible widget that gets slapped on your website, usually in the corner. It might let users:

  • Change text size
  • Switch color contrast
  • Highlight links
  • Read content aloud

But here’s the problem: it’s almost always duplicating features the user already has access to through their OS or browser. Screen readers, zoom tools, high-contrast modes – these are already built into modern tech.

The box isn’t helping. At best, it does nothing. At worst, it overrides the user’s settings and breaks their experience.

It’s not consistent, predictable, or consistent, and it sends the wrong message: Look! We care! (But not enough to fix the actual site.)

Type 2: The Band-Aid

This is the JavaScript-based overlay that modifies your website as it loads. It lets teams add missing labels, rework headings, or fix color contrast without touching the original code.

In some contexts – especially where bureaucracy prevents fast fixes – these can be a helpful temporary bridge.

But:

  • None of the fixes are permanent
  • You’re entirely dependent on the overlay vendor
  • Too many patches can slow things down or conflict with future updates

It’s duct tape. Useful in a pinch. But not a foundation.

Type 3: The AI Fix-It

These tools promise full accessibility using artificial intelligence. They scan your site, apply fixes in real time, and claim full WCAG compliance – sometimes even offering “legal protection.”

They’ll auto-generate alt text, infer ARIA roles, and “fix” headings and labels for you, all without touching the underlying code.

But here’s the problem:
They rarely understand context – and in accessibility, context is everything.
They might apply the wrong fix, or introduce new bugs while trying to clean up old ones.
They claim to protect you from lawsuits, but their legal promises are vague at best – and misleading at worst.

Multiple vendors have used SLAPP (Strategic Lawsuit Against Public Participation) suits to try to silence critics. And the Federal Trade Commission in the USA fined one of them $1 million for false and misleading advertising.

So much for peace of mind.

You can’t automate empathy.
You can’t automate clarity.
And you definitely can’t automate care.


What they promise vs. what they do

Overlays promise simplicity. But they often deliver:

  • Broken navigation
  • Inconsistent user experiences
  • Conflicts with real assistive tech
  • A false sense of security for site owners

It’s performative. It’s a checkbox. It’s “accessibility theater.”

But accessibility isn’t about looking like you care. It’s about building something that works.


Why nuance matters

It’s easy to say “burn them all.” And yeah, sometimes we want to. But not every use of an overlay is malicious.

Some orgs genuinely don’t have backend access. Some overlays are used in good faith, trying to improve access while waiting for real fixes.

And yes, some AI tools are getting better, especially at describing images. They’re still not good enough, but they might help screen reader users avoid FOMO when alt text is missing.

The issue isn’t the tech. It’s pretending the tech solves the problem.


What the future could look like

There’s a difference between overlays that force changes on a page and overlays that empower users to personalize their experience.

Browser extensions, operating system features, and opt-in AI tools could support users on their own terms. That future might be worth exploring.

But it needs to be built on consent, clarity, and real accessibility, not marketing spin.

It’s not about banning all tech. It’s about respecting people.


Friends don’t let friends use overlays… unless they absolutely have to. And even then, test it.

Overlays aren’t evil. But they aren’t magic either.

If you’re using one, know what it’s actually doing. Know its limitations. And for the love of all things accessible, test your site with real assistive technology.

Because one line of code won’t fix your website.

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