About Troy Heland

My one rule

My rule is simple. If someone can’t use it, it isn’t finished.

That’s not a slogan. It’s the standard I hold my own work to, including this site. A business that sells accessibility and falls short of it has nothing to sell.

How I got here

In early 2024 I met my partner, Callie Elward-Barrett. She was working in the APS at the time, and was already a recognised coach, public speaker and advocate in the neurodivergent space.

In early 2025 I was diagnosed with ADHD. That’s when my own journey really kicked off.

Being able to advocate for myself is a privilege, and I’m proud of it. It also showed me how many neurodivergent people can’t do that as easily as I can.

So I put it to work. With Callie and Jayne Gurton, I co-founded ndWILD. We launched at The Baso, Canberra’s iconic music venue, then took ndWILD to the streets of Sydney for Mardi Gras.

Along the way I built executivefunctioning.com.au and ndWILD.org, and one thing became obvious: the internet still isn’t accessible enough.

A lot of good work has gone into access for physically disabled people. But what about the reader who can’t find what matters because there’s too much going on? The shopper who can’t find a price? The person racing a timer they didn’t know was running? Any one of these can be enough to make a potential customer leave your site.

That’s the gap I want to close, for everyone. And without the site looking like it was built in Notepad.

Selfie in the crowd on a Sydney street. Both are smiling, dressed in bright orange and pink, with glitter eye make-up. — Callie and me at Sydney Mardi Gras.

What I do

I’m a proud Yorta Yorta man, a father, a partner, a leader, and I have ADHD.

I’ve worked in IT since I graduated with a Bachelor of IT in 2005. But I’ve never been a normal IT guy. I need to know why things are done a certain way, and I can talk to anyone in the room: the C-suite, the DevOps team, middle management and everyone in between.

I enjoy supporting Callie at Executive Functioning Leadership. I’m also a co-founder of ndWILD, a global non-profit and unifying banner for all neurodivergent identities: brilliance, connection, visibility and momentum across communities and countries. I look after its website and operations.

So I’m not building for a brief I read once. I build, run and fix these sites myself, and I live with the results.

What most accessibility work misses

Most of the conversation is about screen readers, colour contrast and alt text. They all matter, and they’re all on my checklist.

But accessibility isn’t just having alt text on your images.

Nothing makes me close a tab faster than not knowing what something actually costs.

I see something I like and head to the site to buy it. The price on the page is wrong, or there isn’t one. To find out the shipping, or what I’ll actually pay, I have to add it to my cart. Then sign up for an account. Then get all the way to the card-details screen before the real number shows up.

That’s not a checkout. It’s an ambush.

So on every site I build:

Clear, upfront prices

No hunting, no sign-up wall.

Nothing plays until you choose

No autoplaying videos, animations or sound.

Forms that forgive mistakes

Clear labels, errors that tell you how to fix them, and nothing you’ve typed gets wiped.

Outside work

When I’m not building websites, I’m probably at a gig. I’ve been to more live shows in the last three years than most people, and I’m not slowing down.

I love travelling, and getting lost in a new city is one of my favourite things.

I play social netball, and I’ll watch almost any sport, especially in person.

And any live event that actively displays the Hidden Disabilities Sunflower makes my day. I’m always looking at how venues and events could be more inclusive. It’s the same question I ask of every website.

Get in touch

Let’s build a better, more accessible web together.

-Troy

Send me a message

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