There is a huge amount of positive change happening across the events industry.

More organisers are thinking seriously about accessibility. More venues are introducing support. More suppliers are developing services. More event professionals are asking what they can do differently.

That is absolutely something to celebrate, but as accessibility provision grows, there is something else we need to protect:

The shared language that is already developing around it.

Because accessibility becomes harder, not easier, when every organisation creates a new name, new terminology or new visual identity for essentially the same support. Accessibility shouldn’t need translating.

Familiarity is part of accessibility

For many neurodivergent people, familiarity, predictability and knowing what to expect are incredibly important.

If someone attends one event and learns the name of a particular accessibility service, then attends another event where essentially the same support has been given a completely different name, they have to work it out all over again.

What is this?

Is it the same thing?

Is it for me?

What happens there?

Am I allowed to use it?

Who do I ask?

Every one of those questions adds cognitive load.

Shared terminology removes some of it.

The ambition should be simple: somebody should be able to attend a festival, sporting event, conference or exhibition and recognise the accessibility provision available to them. They shouldn’t need to learn a new accessibility vocabulary every time they attend an event.

Why Sensory Calm?

There is a reason EventWell uses Sensory Calm.

And there is a reason other organisations use it too.

Across festivals and outdoor events, Sensory Calm is increasingly being used as shared terminology for sensory and quiet spaces. Different organisations may deliver those spaces differently, but the language is becoming familiar.

That is a good thing, in fact, it is something we should actively protect.

EventWell’s SensoryCalm™ identity, presentation and branding belong to EventWell. Another provider shouldn’t reproduce our branding or present themselves as EventWell.

But the words Sensory Calm are useful precisely because attendees recognise what they mean.

We don’t want every accessibility provider competing to invent a cleverer name for essentially the same support.

Imagine if every event invented a different name for First Aid, we wouldn’t consider that innovative, we’d consider it confusing.

The same principle should apply here, and here’s perhaps the simplest way of explaining why the terminology works:

Sensory Calm is basically the Ronseal of accessibility terminology, it tells you what it does.

Sensory. Calm.

In all the years we’ve been delivering Sensory Calm spaces at events, we have never once had a neurodivergent attendee come up and ask what “Sensory Calm” means. They see the words and understand what the space is for.

Occasionally somebody who isn’t neurodivergent, and doesn’t have particular sensory or nervous system regulation needs, will ask us what the space does, but even then, most people can put two and two together.

It does what it says on the tin.

And that is exactly what good accessibility language should do.

It shouldn’t require an explanation, a glossary or knowledge of somebody’s brand. The name itself should give someone enough information to understand what they are likely to find.

That isn’t simplistic language.

That’s good universal design.

If an attendee has learned that a Sensory Calm space is somewhere they can step away from stimulation, regulate, decompress and access appropriate support, seeing those words at another event gives them immediate information.

That familiarity matters.

What we now need is for that shared understanding, already increasingly familiar within festivals and outdoor events, to travel further into conferences, exhibitions, corporate events and venues.

The environment changes.

The principle doesn’t.

Purple already means something

There is another piece of shared accessibility language already visible across many live and outdoor events: purple.

It is common to see accessibility teams identified through purple high visibility clothing, purple shirts or other purple identifiers.

Again, there is value in consistency.

Imagine arriving somewhere unfamiliar and already knowing that the person in purple is part of the accessibility team.

You don’t need to know which organisation employs them. You don’t need to find an information desk first. You don’t need to remember a particular event’s branded name for its accessibility crew.

You can recognise:

Purple = accessibility support.

That’s incredibly powerful.

As accessibility provision grows across conferences and exhibitions, we shouldn’t automatically reinvent that visual language, we should learn from what is already working across festivals, outdoor events and other live environments and carry that recognition with us.

Whether someone is working directly for an organiser, a venue or an external accessibility provider shouldn’t matter to the attendee.

The important thing is that they can look across a busy event environment and recognise somebody who may be able to help them, because consistency itself is an accessibility tool.

Keep First Aid recognisable too

The same principle applies to the people providing support.

First Aid is one of the most universally understood concepts at an event.

People understand what a First Aider is.

Physical First Aid is familiar.

Mental Health First Aid has built on that familiar language to describe initial mental health support.

At EventWell, we are developing that principle further through Mental and Neuro Health First Aid, or MNHFA.

MNHFA takes the established foundations of Mental Health First Aid and adds an additional foundation: nervous system regulation and neuro health.

That distinction matters.

Because not everything that looks like distress is necessarily a mental health crisis.

Someone may be experiencing sensory overload.

They may be dysregulated.

They may be moving towards shutdown.

They may be struggling to process language, communicate what they need or respond to questions because their nervous system has become overwhelmed by the environment around them.

They may simply need less sensory input, more processing time, a quieter environment and appropriate support to regulate.

If we interpret every presentation of distress purely through a mental health lens, we risk misunderstanding what that person actually needs from us.

Mental and Neuro Health First Aid therefore brings together an understanding of mental health with an understanding of neuro health, neurodivergence, different neurotypes, sensory processing and nervous system regulation.

That includes developmental neurodivergence, as well as mental health and acquired neurodivergence.

It gives the First Aider another important question to consider:

Does this person need mental health support, or does their nervous system need support to regulate?

Sometimes those things will overlap.

Sometimes they won’t.

Understanding the difference can change the support we provide, but importantly, it remains First Aid!

We haven’t abandoned terminology people already understand in order to create something that sounds new, we have extended it.

A First Aider is somebody I can approach when I need help. Mental Health tells me something about the support they are trained to provide. Mental and Neuro Health tells me that their understanding extends further, including nervous system regulation and neurodivergent needs.

The specialism develops.

The familiar concept remains.

Accessibility isn’t the place for a naming competition

Of course branding matters.

EventWell has a brand. Other accessibility organisations have theirs, venues, organisers and suppliers have their own identities too, but branding and shared terminology are not the same thing.

We can differentiate how we provide a service without continually renaming what the service is.

If ten organisations provide essentially the same accessibility service under ten completely different names, we haven’t created ten innovations.

We’ve potentially created ten things an attendee has to decode at a risk of creating unnecessary decision fatigue, and that is the opposite of what we’re trying to achieve.

The provider can change.

The branding can change.

The environment can change.

But the fundamental accessibility language can remain familiar.

Sensory Calm tells me what kind of space I have found.

Purple tells me that this person is connected to accessibility support.

First Aider tells me that this person is trained to provide initial help.

That’s what universal language can do.

Let’s spread what is already working

As accessibility becomes more embedded across the events industry, we have a choice. We can allow every sector, organiser, venue and supplier to develop its own terminology, or we can recognise where shared language is already emerging and build upon it.

Festivals and outdoor events have already begun establishing some of these conventions, now we need to carry that consistency into conferences, exhibitions, corporate events, association events, sporting events and venues, and accessibility professionals need to collaborate on this rather than compete over vocabulary.

Because ultimately, the language isn’t really ours.

It belongs to the people who need to understand it.

If someone is overwhelmed, approaching shutdown, struggling to communicate, trying to navigate an unfamiliar environment or simply looking for somewhere they can regulate, the last thing they need is another piece of information to decode.

They need recognition.

They need familiarity.

They need to know what something means without having to ask.

That’s why universal language matters.

Because familiarity isn’t just convenient.

Familiarity is accessibility.