"Tell Them You Love Me": the case for guardrails, not bans

Anna Stubblefield was a philosophy professor who became sexually involved with a nonspeaking man she was working with on facilitated communication. That relationship was inappropriate — full stop. It would have been inappropriate if he were a speaking undergraduate in her seminar. It would have been inappropriate if he were a colleague's adult brother she met at a dinner party. The wrongness does not depend on his communication status, and it does not depend on whether the feelings he expressed through typing were genuinely his.

Even if every word he typed had been authentically his own — even if he had genuinely expressed romantic interest — a teacher in that role does not act on it. That is what "power differential" means. That is what every professional code of ethics in teaching, therapy, medicine, and clergy already says.

A category error, repeated on purpose

Critics of assisted communication routinely use this case as if it settles the question of whether spelling is safe. It doesn't. It settles the question of whether one professor crossed a professional boundary, which it does, and which everyone agrees on.

We do not ban teaching because some teachers abuse students. We do not ban medicine because some doctors harm patients. We do not ban coaching, therapy, or pastoral care because individuals in those roles sometimes violate the trust placed in them. We set up guardrails: codes of conduct, supervision, mandated reporting, licensure, and accountability. Those guardrails exist because the work matters, not because the work is safe.

Invoking this case as a reason to restrict spelling applies a standard to AC that we apply to no other field. That is not a safety argument. It is a rhetorical move.

What guardrails for AC actually look like

The AC community has been clear about what responsible practice requires, and most contemporary programs already build it in:

• Practitioner codes of conduct with explicit prohibitions on dual relationships.
• Family or third-party presence during sessions, especially with minors and adults under guardianship.
• Documentation, supervision, and outside review of practitioner work.
• Fading-of-support protocols so authorship can be evaluated over time.
• Mandated reporting training and clear escalation paths when a nonspeaker discloses abuse.
• Conflict-of-interest disclosure when a practitioner has any personal stake beyond the professional relationship.

The honest version of the lesson

If "Tell Them You Love Me" teaches anything about AC, it is that the field needs the same guardrails every helping profession needs — not that nonspeakers should be denied access to communication. Using a boundary violation by one practitioner to argue for restricting the communication of an entire population is, at best, a confusion of categories. At worst, it is a way of silencing the people who would be the first to tell us when something is wrong.