Apple Vision Pro really does resemble a pair of ski goggles.
I won’t bury the lede: Apple Vision Pro is accessible.
Apple garners so much attention, and commensurately gets so much grief, from tech industry watchers and members of the media for inventing The Next Big Thing. People (and Wall Street) want innovation; they want the next iPhone. Conventional wisdom says innovation lies in hardware—that’s reasonable. Yet those more nerdy than most certainly would argue software is arguably the most important aspect of any technological product. Look no further than the takes on Humane’s AI Pin for proof. As one of those nerdier than most who happens to be a lifelong disabled person, I contend that a meaningful metric of innovation from Apple is in accessibility. Year after year, Apple puts out software across its expanse of operating systems—including visionOS—that makes its devices accessible to the disability community. Apple is not, and never has been, beyond reproach—and that is true for accessibility. But as a lifelong disabled person, I’m here to say it matters a whole lot to see the company who makes some of the world’s most popular consumer goods accessible to disabled people. Having covered the company at extremely close range for over a decade, Apple’s commitment to accessibility is not virtue-signaling nor an empty bromide. It’s a high priority from the highest levels of the organization.
This context is important when considering the advent of Vision Pro. A wholly new device powered by a wholly new software system doesn’t often come out of Cupertino, so there’s naturally a bit of trepidation over not merely how good it will be—it matters how accessible it will be too. Given how Apple has positioned Vision Pro as ushering in the era of spatial computing, it isn’t insignificant that, despite imperfections in places, the device is accessible from the get-go. I’ve been testing Vision Pro for the last few weeks using a review unit provided to me by Apple, the highest-end $3900 model with 1TB of storage. My kit included accessories like the $200 carrying case and the USB-C AirPods Pro 2.
Evaluating Ergonomics
As a wearable computer, especially one meant for one’s face, Vision Pro’s ergonomic story is as critical as its software. The headset does no good if it can’t be put on, after all. The device’s accessibility here has been something I’ve pondered since it was unveiled at last June’s WWDC.
In practice, it pleases me to report I’ve found getting Vision Pro on and off to be easy. The device ships with the Solo Knit Band attached, and is the band I’ve come to prefer. Like my friends and colleagues in the tech press, I met with Apple for a hands-on briefing with Vision Pro prior to getting the review unit. I remember having difficulty with the Solo Knit Band being comfortable and staying secure. The Dual Loop Band felt better, and I went home that day thinking it would be the one I’d use forevermore. I decided on a whim to give the Solo Knit Band another try once my Vision Pro arrived. It was a wise choice, as I adjusted it enough such that it’s both extremely comfortable and extremely secure. Moreover, it’s an accessibility win that it takes only one hand to adjust the band’s fit; this is especially beneficial to those who, like me, have much stronger dexterity and muscle tone in one hand versus the other.
As comfortable as the Solo Knit Band has been, the flip side is Vision Pro’s weight. Like the pair of blue AirPods Max I received as a birthday gift a few years ago, heavy is the head that wears Vision Pro. It’s noticeable, yet never once has been too much to bear. As other reviewers have noted, Apple made the correct tradeoff in offloading the battery externally. Had they not, the heftiness would have been much worse. I can withstand the weight and accept the relative bulkiness as a price of admission. For others who have neurodiverse and/or sensory needs, the Vision Pro’s weight alone may understandably be a dealbreaker.
Elsewhere ergonomically, Vision Pro is a showcase of Apple’s mastery of magnets. The way the company has leveraged magnetism in products like the iPad’s Smart Cover and MagSafe Battery Pack, to cite just two examples, is so masterful it would make Magneto himself blush. On Vision Pro, that magnets are used for the light seal and the prescription lenses make it incredibly accessible to affix them to the device. It’s delightful to watch, say, the light seal snap securely into place with virtually no effort. On the other hand, though, I’m disappointed by the fiddly nature of the headset’s charging port. For a company so enamored with magnets, it would’ve been preferable if Apple applied MagSafe to the charging port. I’m no materials engineer, but the way you must line up the charger with the port and do a little shimmy to lock it is a chore for my hand-eye coordination. There’s a big difference between grasping the concept cognitively and executing it mechanically. More often than not, I trudge through the process muttering a bunch of expletives.
The Victory Of visionOS
Honestly, visionOS is deserving of a feature-length article all its own. There is so much depth and breadth that I can’t reasonably cover it all with justice without making this piece several thousand words longer. My brain—not to mention my keyboard and my to-do list—is too overwhelmed at the moment to get so granular on it. Suffice it to say, the high-level take is what I wrote at the outset: visionOS is accessible. It’s accessible because of the discrete accessibility features and because of Apple’s vaunted vertical integration. Both go hand-in-hand, but the significance of the synergy is notable to call out in terms of accessibility.
That visionOS has tried-and-true features like VoiceOver and Zoom, for instance, is one thing. They make the computer-y experience accessible. More pointedly for an all-new device with an all-new UI paradigm is the family resemblance of visionOS to Apple’s other like-minded platforms. In terms of cognition, that the so-called “Home View” in visionOS looks and acts much like the Home Screen on an iPhone isn’t to be taken for granted. For many with certain neurological conditions, this sense of “home” and familiarity can work wonders in terms of raising one’s comfort level as they adapt and acclimate to Vision Pro’s unique environment. I’ve said it before, but that Apple took iOS and spun off so many variants is a de-facto accessibility feature that often gets derided as lock-in or whatnot. To the contrary, the fact Apple’s devices function more or less the same means accessibility has far greater resonance than sheerly the aforementioned bespoke accessibility features.
In practical terms, there are a few things to highlight from my testing. First and foremost is Optic ID and the eye-tracking to navigate the interface. My first-run experience with Vision Pro at home felt a bit like deja vu, insofar as I felt as though I was reliving Face ID on iPhone X in 2017. To wit, my eyes, specifically the strabismus in my right eye, makes it such that I need to disable Require Attention on my phone in order to use Face ID. So it goes on Vision Pro. My left eye is strongest, so I’ve told the system to prefer eye movement only from the left rather than both at once. In my usage, this has worked well. Relatedly, I’ve not been able to summon Control Center by looking up as is the default. To compensate, I’ve enabled AssistiveTouch and set it so that clicking on it launches Control Center. Again, it’s worked well in my testing. Combine those two pieces with text size being cranked up to the max, and I’m flying around visionOS as fluidly as I do my other devices. To reiterate an earlier point, the accessibility features I use play an instrumental role in this but so too does the family resemblance. The concepts really are inextricably tied.
Spending Time Spatially Computing
What I use Vision Pro for most is entertainment. Fun stuff.
This is not a pejorative. Vision Pro is unquestionably the best device I’ve ever used for watching video. Watching Echo on Disney+ or Dickinson in Apple TV+ has been the most fun I’ve had with the headset because of how immersive it is. The respective theater modes in both apps are so well done that it truly does feel as if I’m sitting in a real movie theater. Better yet, the fact I can watch things on a 100-foot screen means I’m not squinting and causing eye strain. (This is also true for windows system-wide; I can make them as big and move them as close as I want.) I have a 65-inch TCL Mini-LED TV in the living room which sparkles in terms of fidelity, but Vision Pro beats it on both fidelity and immersion.
As to productivity, the jury is still out. Mac Virtual Display impresses, but typing through Vision Pro remains difficult because it isn’t a mirror. It’s cameras relaying images to my eyes that are just fuzzy enough to make seeing keys hard. I’m decidedly not a touch typist, therefore I must look down at the keys to type as I’m doing in writing this very sentence. Besides, I spent so much of my days in Mail and Safari on my other devices that I don’t feel a pressing need to check my email in the headset.
The Bottom Line
The million dollar question: Should a disabled person buy Vision Pro?
If one can afford it and dares to live on tech’s bleeding edge, sure. If the price is right, video alone is reason enough to get Vision Pro if you’re someone who’s Blind or low vision. It’s that good. Vision Pro is the most accessible computer I’ve ever used for video; in this day and age of streaming media, that’s saying something. That said, most disabled people can’t afford $3,500. There isn’t any shame in that, but it does create opportunity for disability organizations like rehabilitation centers to perhaps subsidize the cost absent a lower-cost model down the road.
Even if watching video feels like the narrowest of use cases, and it is, that doesn’t overshadow Apple’s work in making Vision Pro 1.0 as accessible as possible. The company clearly is putting a lot of wood into the arrows it calls spatial computing, and it’s just as clear they expect this new era to be accessible. In an industry—and a society—where fighting for disability inclusion often feels like a Sisyphean task, it cannot be overstated how meaningful it is that Apple made Vision Pro so empathetic and inclusive.
