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A plea amid Apple Cider Vinegar: PLEASE remember people with invisible disabilities and chronic illnesses are NOT faking it.
When it comes to Netflix’s new hit show Apple Cider Vinegar, I have mixed emotions.
On one hand, it tells the story of con artist Belle Gibson, who faked a terminal brain cancer diagnosis, and creates a whole empire from it. She claims she healed her cancer through the power of wholefoods and healthy living, eventually creating an incredibly popular app and even cook book all around her story, filled with healthy recipes, and a whole bunch of lies. Because, spoiler alert, you can’t cure terminal brain cancer with healthy eating. Having lost multiple people I love to cancer, this part infuriates me—and it’s utterly despicable to sell fake advice and stories to people who are in such a vulnerable situation.
But on the other hand, the idea of forcing someone to prove their health conditions—and the idea that someone is faking their condition—makes me super duper uncomfortable.
As someone who has invisible disabilities and chronic illnesses, I constantly have to fight to be believed—by doctors, by employers, by friends, by family, and the wider community.
You often have to go from doctor to doctor, begging to be heard and treated, and you face so much stigma and ableism: even from those that claim to love you.
Because, unfortunately, this idea that you can heal yourself is rampant in our society—and most people in this industry don’t really understand how much harm it can cause. And I don’t think they really care. For one, the wellness industry is worth over $6.3 trillion. But secondly, disabled and chronically ill people are never really given a voice in this space.
Now, I’m not saying that eating well and making healthier lifestyle choices can’t make a difference to your health: it obviously can. But when we have disabilities and health conditions that can’t be cured, there is often the narrative that we simply haven’t done enough or tried enough.
I can’t tell you how many times people have suggested something to me—something their sister’s aunt’s cousin’s cat used to “cure” their health condition. Something like trying a new “superfood”, like kale or chia seeds. Or worse: “have you tried yoga?”
Let me tell you, I have tried everything. And surprise surprise, I’m still disabled, and I’m still chronically ill.
But to some people, poor health is a moral failing. Because I have to have done something wrong, or not done something right to be this way. They have to tell themselves that, rather than accept the fact that disability is a natural part of the human experience, and anyone can develop a disability, chronic illness, or health condition at any time: no matter how supposedly healthy you are.
Many conditions don’t have a cure. It’s not our fault for developing a disability or health condition, and it’s not our fault for not being able to cure it. No amount of kale is going to stop me from being disabled or chronically ill.
I feel so much for the people who fell for Belle’s lies. They came to her because they wanted to be well—no matter what they were facing. And it really is hard when you develop a health condition or disability.
Because our world is so ableist, with these huge, unfair expectations, and when we can’t keep up, or heal ourselves, we’re told something is wrong with us. But there isn’t.
Even so, this is a narrative we must constantly face in our lives.
Even though Belle needed to be rightfully questioned about her story—and where the money she was allegedly raising for “charity” was going---it’s still hard to see her questioned so furiously about her health. People demanding answers, like what exact tests have doctors done, when, where and by who. I certainly couldn’t tell you all that information about my own health. We have to keep track of so much, and when you have chronic fatigue and brain fog, it can be even harder.
A lot of people don’t believe you’re sick if you don’t look like what their version of “sick” is.
But the reality is, many conditions are invisible. You can’t tell someone’s disability, sickness, or pain levels just by looking at them. And because of this, sometimes it can feel like the whole world is interrogating you, like they’re trying to catch you out—whether you’re trying to access workplace accommodations or support services, like the disability support pension and the NDIS. We have to constantly prove our disabilities, even for conditions that aren’t going to change. For example, one of my best friends is an amputee—and she has to prove to the NDIS that her leg hasn’t grown back. A bit ridiculous, right? But that’s the level that we often aren’t believed about our own health, even by systems that are supposed to support us.
I’ve seen a lot of reactions about Apple Cider Vinegar—anger towards her lies, outrage at the fact that she still owes so much money, and has harmed so many people. I’ve also seen cancer survivors respond with their own stories and rage: rightfully so.
But a disability perspective is one that’s often missing, which seems wild to me, when we represent 20% of the world’s population, and 90% of disabled people have at least one invisible disability. Not to mention all the people with chronic illnesses and health conditions who don’t consider themselves to be disabled enough to count.
But while invisible conditions have a moment in the limelight, I’d like to use this as an opportunity to remind people that, despite people like Belle, the vast majority of us are not faking it. But, the vast majority of us are struggling with ableist attitudes, unfair stigma, medical misogyny and medical gaslighting. One person “faking it” doesn’t mean we all are.
We all deserve to be believed. We all deserve to be helped. And we deserve to live in a world that doesn’t blame us for our own health.