What Is Ableism? The Sneaky Assumption That Hurts Disabled People
To the casual observer, I look pretty “normal.” If you catch me walking down the street, you probably can’t tell I’m in pain, probably dizzy, a little more reliant on my maps app than I should have to be in my own neighborhood.
Because my disabilities are largely invisible, much of the ableism I encounter is internal, coming from inside my own head. That same little voice that criticizes my unruly hair, the wrinkles that have carved their way into my forehead over the past few years is as constant a companion as my body is, and as cruel as any commentary the world could offer.
“You’re fine. Stop being lazy,” it whispers as I struggle up the subway steps from an exhausting commute, my energy reserves all but spent before my workday even begins. “A child could follow this recipe,” it jeers, as I read the instructions for the fourth time, fighting through the fog that clouds my brain. I avoid the older passengers’ glares when I take a seat on a crowded train instead of standing, joke about how my goldfish-length memory means I’m constantly surprised and delighted and probably use my mobility aids less frequently than I should to deflect unwanted questions, stares, the kind of attention that feels closer to pity than I’m comfortable with. The world isn’t made for bodies or minds that live on the spectrum of disability, but we have to live in it however we can. But ableism makes it harder.
Ableism, as the Center for Disability Rights defines it, is a set of beliefs or practices that devalue or discriminate against people with physical, intellectual or psychiatric disabilities. It can be insidious and often unconscious, relying on the belief that disabled people need “fixing” or that there’s something wrong or bad about bodies and minds that work differently from what we’ve been taught to consider the norm. That’s called the medical model, because it assumes that a person’s medical status is the problem, rather than society’s barriers.
And it can take the form of seemingly small slights, like using words like “crazy” or “retarded” as slurs, all the way up to discrimination based on someone’s perceived abilities in the workplace or when starting a family.
Ableism Can Come From Fear
Much like other forms of prejudice, ableism can be rooted in fear, ignorance or a lack of education. Even though as many as one in four Americans live with some sort of disability or chronic illness, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, many people are uncomfortable talking about disability or interacting with disabled people, especially those with apparent physical or mental disabilities. That can make living in the world as a disabled person akin to navigating a minefield — in some ways, more challenging than the disability itself.
“I was born with a physical disability. Growing up, I thought I knew what to look out for when it came to ableism,” explained Theresa Dougherty. “What I wasn’t prepared for are the times when a person might look at me, see that my body looks different, and assume certain things about me that have nothing to do with physical ability — like those who attribute my quiet personality to a mental disability — or the well-meaning individuals who exclude me from an activity because they don’t want me to be embarrassed or feel bad if I can’t participate in the same way that others in the group do.”
Ask any disabled person: they likely have a script or standard way of responding when someone asks a rude or insensitive question, grabs their mobility aids or tries to pet a service dog or tries to “help” them in ways that are at best unnecessary and at worst, can be downright dangerous. Word to the wise: There’s nothing wrong with asking someone if they need help, as long as you’re kind and respectful about it and (most importantly) willing to accept whatever answer you’re given. But staying on guard for those situations can be exhausting.
“I have a disability called spinal muscular atrophy type three. I'm ambulatory, but I trip and fall, sometimes I have difficulty getting up from a seated position, and I can't run,” explains artist and activist James Ian. Because his disability is largely not evident to people who don’t know him, Ian gets comments like, “How come you can't lift that,” or, “You should be ashamed of yourself for asking for help to carry that,” that keep him on his guard. “I feel like I'm always kind of on edge about, well, somebody's gonna say this, or assume that,” he adds.
It Can Take the Form of Microaggressions
Even if many people know better than to be downright rude to others, a lot of ableism takes place in the form of microaggressions, or expressions or actions that indicate a negative view of someone’s age, gender identity, race, sex, disability or other identity marker. In the case of ableism, examples of that could include phrases like:
“That’s so lame.”
“That guy is crazy.”
“You’re acting so bipolar today.”
“It’s like the blind leading the blind.”
“My ideas fell on deaf ears.”
“I’m super OCD about how I clean my apartment.”
“Can I pray for you?”
“I don’t even think of you as disabled.”
Many of these sayings aren’t ill-intentioned, and many people use words like “insane” without even thinking about their ableist connotations. Part of the reason ableist language is so pervasive in our culture is because disability has historically been seen as an inherently negative thing, something people find pitiable or even disgusting. We have the entertainment industry to thank for that — take Quasimodo, Tiny Tim and the Phantom of the Opera for example.
“Ableism is insidious and often tells us that disabled people are the problem. We get this idea that we should change, instead of society should change,” explained writer and educator Fin Leary. “I’m trans, and ableism made it so much harder to come out. Sometimes I need a break or a mobility aid, like my cane. I don’t think that makes me weak, but toxic masculinity and ableism tell me that it does. I had to fight hard against those ideas in order to come out and be proud to be the man that I am.”
But it also starts at home. When well-meaning parents tell their children not to stare at disabled people, or usher them away from wheelchair users or guide dogs, that instills a lesson that disability is something scary or bad.
“I actually never thought that I could do the things that I'm currently doing, because I thought like, ‘Oh, I'm gonna have a life where people are going to pity me, no one's gonna want to date me, I'm not going to have friends. Because that's what I saw in all forms of media,” Ian explained.
How Ableism Hurts Both Individuals and Society
Ableism can impact every area of an individual’s life, and hold them back in ways that don’t impact non-disabled people. “In college, a dean flunked me out of a required course for missing an exam because I was hospitalized for a life threatening medical emergency,” said Matthew Cortland, a senior resident fellow at Data for Progress. “In law school, I was threatened with expulsion over the ADA reasonable accommodations I requested. Now I work in politics and policy, where ableism is weaponized against opponents for cheap political points.”
We have only to look at how Senator John Fetterman was treated after he had a stroke and received treatment for depression, or how the left crowed in elation when Mitch McConnell appeared to have a neurological event while speaking. While politicians and public figures can expect a certain level of criticism because of their positions, their mental and physical health should not be used as a basis for criticism or personal attacks. Their constituents include disabled people too, and we’re watching how the rest of the world talks about our representatives.
"Inspiration Porn" Also Plays a Role
Not all ableism looks negative on its face, either. Think about those videos or articles that surface reliably a few times every year: The entire basketball team stops playing to give the kid with mental disabilities a chance to shoot a basket. A popular guy asks a girl with Down Syndrome to prom and she gets voted homecoming queen. That baby whose face lights up when he gets cochlear implants for the first time. These are called “inspiration porn,” a term first coined by activist Stella Young.
While intended to be heartwarming, these stories show disabled people as pitiable, inherently less capable and on the outside of society in some way. They objectify disabled people in order to make others feel good, and it’s harmful both for those individuals depicted in the video and for people like them everywhere.
Instead, Treat Disabled People Like People
Just like avoiding racist, sexist or ageist language, resisting ableism might require a little extra thought. Instead of saying “Wow, that’s so crazy,” consider saying something like “Wow, I didn’t expect that” or “Who could’ve seen that coming?” If your child stares at another kid who uses a wheelchair, encourage them to ask if the other child wants to play. Ian also recommends educating yourself on disability culture and history, reading books by disabled authors and consuming media made by disabled folks that features accurate, inclusive representation.
“I think the most important thing is to actually have conversations with disabled people,” he said. “It doesn't have to be uncomfortable. You can come to them humbly and say, ‘Listen, I don't know what I'm doing here. But I want to learn.’” Of course, there’s a time and a place for these conversations. Asking a disabled friend about their lived experience is one thing; asking personal questions in line at the grocery store is quite another.
It also helps to lead with kindness and curiosity instead of impatience or judgment. Not all disabilities are visible, and some people who use mobility aids don’t need them all the time.
When in doubt, it hurts no one to assume good intentions. “I board planes [early] to ensure that I can get my diabetes supplies on board the plane, have time to check my blood sugar before everyone watches me prick my finger on board and treat any potential lows or highs,” explains Emily Goldman, who has Type 1 diabetes. “I am often accosted by people who tell me I’m not ‘disabled’ and therefore shouldn’t board early.” Assumptions like these require disabled people to go on the defensive, and that can lead to an argument, rather than a discussion.
I’m the first to admit that I haven’t always been great at discussing my disabilities. For a long time, my internalized ableism made me shy away from conversation, lest someone see me as less capable, less intelligent or just less. But making friends with more disabled and chronically ill people, reading up on disability history and following the work of disabled activists and artists has empowered me not to be ashamed of the perfectly imperfect way my body and mind work. It’s a lifelong journey, and I’m still working to eradicate ableist language from my vocabulary too. We can all treat each other with a little more kindness, a little more empathy, a little more grace. That matters, just like we all do.
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