A magazine spread can be beautiful and still lock people out. Tiny type, gray on cream, a caption that only exists inside a picture, a menu that vanishes until you guess the right corner: each of those is a closed door with a nice frame.
We set Frontpage in a serif you can read for more than a minute, with a measure that stays near the length of a spoken sentence. Links are underlined. The skip link is real. The forms have labels, not just placeholders that disappear the moment you type. On a narrow screen the masthead gets smaller, but it does not become a puzzle.
Contrast is part of the tone, not a coat of paint added later. Ink on newsprint should look like ink. The red of the edition plate is for the plate, not for a paragraph of small type. When we use a deep field behind white letters, the letters stay large enough to earn that field.
None of this is a claim that the work is done. Accessibility is a practice you repeat every time you add a story, a form, or a new issue. The desk checklist asks whether a piece still makes sense if you never see the layout, only the headings and the words. If it does not, it goes back.