The first time my brother Anish walked, his buttery toddler fingers were wrapped around mine for support. The second time he learned how to walk, he was screaming in pain and sobbing.

Anish was born deaf, and until entering middle school, he needed additional support through special education services. Because the classes he needed weren't available at our home school at the time, my family had to send him to a separate school. Every morning, my mom would drive us to two different schools just to make sure we could both get the education we deserved. 

Last summer, Anish survived Guillain-Barré Syndrome, a condition that paralyzed him from the waist down. One night in the hospital, as I was scrolling on Zillow to distract myself from the sickening smell of antiseptic that polluted the air and the eerie hospital silence, my eyes were opened. 

Zillow has filters for parking spots and mountain views, but lacks filtering for sensory-friendly layouts, no-step entries, or proximity to special education resources–crucial factors for families navigating disabilities. My family had already spent years adjusting around a system that didn't offer the right resources for Anish. Why was this kind of information so cloudy and difficult to find when looking for a home? This very gap reflects an industry centered purely around information that sells a property rather than information that helps people understand whether a home actually suits them.