Article
When I tell people I work in the disability sector, they generally assume that it’s a space with more accessibility and less ableism than corporate or other not for profit spaces. I used to assume that too.
How wrong they are. How wrong I was.
Some of the most frustrating, ableist behaviour I’ve witnessed happened in disability organisations. Mostly perpetuated by well-meaning nondisabled people, but sometimes by other disabled people.
Ableism of all kinds hurts. But I’ve found that it hurts more when it comes from the organisations that purportedly exist to support us.
No number of empty platitudes or statements about being an “inclusive workplace” or noting that “disabled people are encouraged to apply” can cover the toxicity that exists beneath the surface of so many disability advocacy organisations and service providers.
You’re not supporting us if you ignore respectful feedback about access barriers. You’re certainly not advancing our cause if you respond to that feedback with tone policing and defensiveness.
You’re not supporting us if the main goal of your strategic plan is to reduce the number of babies born with our condition. That’s not progress. That’s eugenics.
You’re not supporting us if your consultation process is restricted to people who can attend in person sessions, who don’t need breaks or Easy Read or any other adjustments.
You’re not supporting us if you refuse to remunerate us for our expertise, adequately or at all.
For so long, organisations and the staff within them have been applauded for the bare minimum. But the bare minimum is not enough. Words mean nothing if they’re not accompanied by meaningful action and commitment.
So, how do we fix this problem? There’s not just one answer. Radical access and inclusion in disability spaces requires a multifaceted, long-term approach. It’s the same process that other organisations should undertake, except its absence carries so much more weight (and irony) in disability organsations. It starts with hiring disabled people. Hire us in positions of leadership, not just in entry level roles. If you’re in a disability organisation and there are no disabled employees or managers, take a moment to consider why. And then do something about it.
For instance, if you’re only looking for people who can work full time and/or entirely in person, you’re not as inclusive as you think.
Crucially, being disabled doesn’t automatically equate to understanding of disability rights, accessibility or advocacy. Make sure that all staff receive regular training on disability rights and politics. And if staff - including disabled staff - act in a way that is ableist, racist or otherwise inappropriate, hold those staff members accountable. If an employee reports that their access needs aren’t being met or respected, take them seriously by doing more than listening.
Disability organisations also need to consider the compounding impacts of marginalisation. Are your spaces safe for queer people, for First Nations people or people of colour? In many cases, the answer is no. Reconciliation Action Plans and Anti-Racism Policies are a start.
But no amount of policies can fix a broken culture.
The important thing is that it can be fixed. I’ve stuck around because I love what I do, and because there are some organisations getting inclusion right. Generally, those are organisations led by disabled people. Organisations that are flexible and responsive to feedback, that are committed to accessibility, even when it’s inconvenient.
When it comes down to it, we’re not asking for much. Just respect and our basic human rights.
Maybe one day we’ll have a more accessible and inclusive disability sector. Until then, I’ll keep writing and advocating. If you’re reading this, I hope you will too.