Maria Ní Fhlatharta: "Society has medicalised us. Classed us by impairment. Segregated us by impairment. Disability allows us to resist that. It unites us."
Image Description: Photo of Maria on a train.
It is incredible the lengths that people will go to in order to avoid the word disability. Some resort to patronising euphemisms like “special” or “additional” needs. Some people attempt to use linguistics in order to sidestep the obvious with terms like “differently abled” or “handicapable”. Some people are just unable to approach the topic at all, resorting to swaying from side to side, or wobbling their head to imply difference, but one that obviously could not be said out loud for fear everyone would collapse with shame or embarrassment.
I am disabled. In the word disability I found understanding of myself and the world I live in. I found equality and acceptance. I found a community and role models. It is a word that, in my mind at least, is liberating. It is a word that people non-disabled people will literally leave a room to avoid using.
I am not ashamed of being disabled. I am proud of it.
The most important function of the word disability is that it connects me with my rights. Disability makes me equal. It demands that society makes accommodations in order to combat the inequalities that I face. It demands that as society develops and changes, it does so in a way that considers people like me and all of our needs. It demands that, as a society, we become more inclusive. It demands that we become universally accessible.
Disability means that I have just as much say over my life, as a non-disabled person does over theirs. It is fundamental to me existing in this world in a manner that is fair, and equitable. It makes me able to advocate for myself and others like me.
“Disability makes me equal. It demands that society makes accommodations in order to combat the inequalities that I face. It demands that as society develops and changes, it does so in a way that considers people like me and all of our needs.”
When I come up against barriers, disability means I no longer wallow in despair. Not being able to do things at the same rate, or in the same way as my peers was a significant source of stress to me as a young person. I felt lesser. I felt shame that I struggled to keep up, in school, in the playground, in life. It felt like a personal failing. It was clear to me that I didn’t measure up with the other kids. I struggled with anxiety and low self-esteem. Disability forces me to recognise where these failings are a result of social and physical barriers. It makes me accept my mind, and my body as no better or worse than any other. It makes me equal, in law, and in my own self-image.
Disability is also my link to my community. I have an incredible community (mainly of disabled women and non-binary people) that I could not do without. To paraphrase a fellow DWI head, I needed that community in order to undo the damage of internalised ablism. I watch this community wrap its arms around those who acquire disabilities.
I see us advocate for each other. Together we are an unstoppable force. Society has medicalised us. Classed us by impairment. Segregated us by impairment. Disability allows us to resist that. It unites us. When we narrow it down, when we say disability is only about one thing, we make it about our bodies or our minds. Disability has never been about our individual impairments, it is always about our collective liberation.
"Society has medicalised us. Classed us by impairment. Segregated us by impairment. Disability allows us to resist that. It unites us...Disability has never been about our individual impairments, it is always about our collective liberation."
On paper, as a lesbian, I have nothing in common with a gay man. But the similar, if not always identical social and legal inequalities that we face are unite us under one LGBTQI+ family. Similarly, disabled people are a large group. Belonging to this bright, beautiful family, is freeing. It is empowering. While the barriers that we face sometimes look different, they are all as a result of an ableist society. The solution is the same for all of us.
Disability links me to my history. It connects me to people all over the world who have been involved in this struggle for liberation. It connects me with Frida Kahlo and Helen Keller. We have a tendency as a society to not use the term disabled around children in particular. If you are disabled as a child, it is likely that you will grow into a disabled adult. Hiding this in order to avoid limiting expectations or low self esteem is a poor strategy.
“Belonging to this bright, beautiful family, is freeing. It is empowering. While the barriers that we face sometimes look different, they are all as a result of an ableist society”
They aren’t going to be magically non-disabled as adults, and connecting them with a community is important. I wish, more than anything, that as a young person I had more disabled role models. I hung onto the fact that Albert Einstein had learning difficulties like me, I needed more than one model though. I needed role models who weren’t considered once in a generation.
I needed every day disabled role models too. We are too quick to push narratives about “over coming” disability. We love an inspiration story, but disabled people are tired of being boxed into inspiration narratives for Oscar movies or click bait. I am exhausted seeing Roses in Tralee talk about a disabled relative who is a fighter, who “never lets it get him down”. I want to see Roses talk about how unnecessarily difficult it is for their siblings to be disabled in this world. I want to see disabled Roses.
When we treat disability as a normal, wonderful part of human diversity, we have the potential to free us all. This is what has been fought for over generations, and that is what we continue to fight for.