A Nightmare on Ableism Street

Or at least, I wish ableism was a nightmare we could all wake from.

But ableism is very much real and it’s ready to raise its ableist little head at any given opportunity. The problem isn't that people get out of bed in the morning and think, "Hey, I'm going to be ableist today." Very few people make a self-conscious choice to be or act ableist.

But most people just don't know what ableism is, and that is the problem.

We don't learn about ableism in school, and very few workplaces train or make their staff aware of ableism. And a lot of Disabled people themselves do not understand it.

When I was young there were many times when I didn't like the way people spoke to me or the way they treated me.

I didn't have a word for it, and I struggled to articulate my feelings. I didn't know what ableism was. I wasn't taught about it, my parents didn't have a name for it, and my teachers, social workers, or doctors didn't discuss it.

For years, I navigated ableism daily, and yet I still had no name for it. But I sure was feeling its effects.

Being Disabled embarrassed me. It made me feel like I was less than. I was treated differently, and not in a good way. I learned that being Disabled was a bad thing. It indicated to others I was not "normal," and that I was an easy target for their aggression. Adults also seemed to want to wrap me in cotton wool or talk about my Disability like it was a bad thing to be discussing.

My family is and was an incredible source of support. They were overprotective and always on my side, but I didn't know how to tell them I hated being Disabled. I hated the way it made people behave or treat me. I hated that it impacted friendships and that it put a target on my back for bullies.

At university, I encountered inaccessible barriers and ableist attitudes, causing me to lose my way many times.

Self-destructing, binge drinking, skipping class, and feelings of being worthless are my university memories. I was told I needed to look harder to paint. My eyesight was an excuse, or that I didn't seem Disabled. My family was there to catch me each time I dropped out of university. Three times to be exact.

But still, I didn't know how or what ableism was, nor that my internalised ableism had me self-sabotaging and self-destructing.

I didn't know it was a root challenge to the challenges with my mental health. My doctor didn't discuss it. Counsellors didn't discuss it. No one told me.

As a Disabled university dropout trying to find a job wasn't easy.

I struggled with barriers and rejection. I listened as recruiters and hiring managers would gasp and tell me I didn't look Disabled or tell me they didn't think I could do the job, as though it were a paying me compliment or letting me down gently. They didn't know the internalised ableism I was fostering, but they certainly fed into it. They didn't see the scars of past experiences or the hurt and shame in my eyes. Whenever I felt brave, I'd request adjustments/ accommodations, that's if I could even navigate the application. But this only seemed to make people act strange or just completely ghost me. Again, I only learned being Disabled was a bad thing. I hated it, more so I hated myself for it.

And so, I tried to hide my Disability.

The internalised ableism telling me it was better to say nothing than say something. But this just made the barriers impossible to overcome and had me pinballing from one job to the next. Trying to hide that you're registered blind is like trying to hide a balloon behind a glass window, it was glaringly obvious.

I digressed with self-identity. I went from telling people I was Disabled or Registered Blind to saying I had bad eyesight. Bad eyesight didn't cut it, or even come close to my lived experience.

But I thought by lying and downplaying my Disability, people would treat me normally and like less of a burden.

My CV became a problem because of the short employment periods and gaps in employment.

I blamed myself and the fact I wasn't like everyone else. I couldn't hold down a job. When I secured a job, adjustments/ accommodations wouldn't arrive on time, and I would be left in pain and struggling with my mental health. Disciplined for time off. Time off due to the back pain from straining to see a computer without adjustments/ accommodations.

Why wasn't I like everyone else? Why did I need adjustments/ accommodations? I hated being Disabled.

I know we shouldn't say I hated being Disabled. But try telling that to the child in the playground wanting to fit in. To the third-time university dropout feeling lost and empty. Or to the adult who struggles to hold and retain employment due to one thing: I was Disabled. I hated a piece of my identity because society either excluded me or treated me like less. People spoke about my Disability as though it was a shameful thing to discuss. They used words like “special” and “differently abled” to describe me. At times I was told I didn't look or seem Disabled, which only led me to believe I wasn't Disabled enough.

That hate grew out of internalised ableism. The result of systemic ableism. The result of not having the knowledge or coping mechanisms in place to support me as a Disabled Person.

So why aren't we providing resources or educating people about ableism?

Why don't we learn about systemic ableism and the implications it has on society and the mental health of Disabled people?

We aren't providing opportunities to learn about ableism. Disabled people experience it daily. We aren't warned about its impact or just how much it will affect us. This gap in knowledge only adds to the cycle that is ableism.

Schools should be educating young people about ableism.

Workplaces should be making staff aware of ableism and ensuring their policies address it.

Doctors and medical professionals need to start talking about this with Disabled patients.

Parents and caregivers should be making us aware of ableism and creating space to talk about its impact.

We all have a responsibility to address our own gaps in learning. We all have a responsibility to learn how to talk about Disability without resorting to ableism.

?And don't think unlearning ableism doesn't apply to you because one day it might just be you navigating an ableist society.

Disability is part of the human experience.

70% of people acquire Disability later in life as opposed to the 30% born Disabled. Meaning you can become Disabled at any point. It's the one club you can join at any given time, either temporarily or long-term. And if not you, a family member, a friend, a colleague, a client, etc.

So please, for the love of inclusion, help end this nightmare that is ableism.

Let's break this cycle.

Let's go beyond tokenistic allyship and actually begin challenging ableism in our society.

It is time to start unlearning ableism