The Lies We Tell Ourselves About Disability: A Personal Journey Through Time

The Evolution of Our Understanding

As someone who was born with neuroblastoma in 1965, I experienced firsthand the profound shifts in societal attitudes towards disabled people. When I started school in 1970, the Chronically Sick and Disabled Persons Act had just come into force, representing a hopeful step toward inclusion. Back then, being disabled meant being seen as capable of living like everyone else – a mindset that was revolutionary for its time.

"In the 70s, disability was about managing with the same dignity and freedom as any other person. We were accepted, not pitied, and we were part of the community."

The school system had evolved to accommodate us, and even my high school went so far as to install a lift and accessible toilets to ensure I could continue my education without hindrance. This wasn't just about compliance; it was an act of recognition that disability was not a barrier to participation.

By the late 90s and early 2000s, however, the narrative had shifted dramatically. The language around benefits had become loaded with moralizing rhetoric: 'scroungers,' 'free rides,' and 'entitlement.' What began as a political strategy to reduce welfare spending morphed into an ideological attack on disabled people's dignity.

Disability Benefits Under Fire

I've been targeted by this campaign more than once. My Motability vehicle was vandalized repeatedly, and I've been physically assaulted for being 'scrounging.' These attacks weren't random; they were part of a coordinated effort to dehumanize disabled people, portraying us as parasites who exploit the system.

Let me be clear: Motability is not a free car. It's a lease program with upfront costs and monthly payments – similar to any other vehicle purchase. And Personal Independence Payment (PIP) is not a welfare handout for laziness or minor health issues. It's designed to support independent living based on individual needs, and I've used it successfully to work and maintain my livelihood.

The economic arguments behind these cuts are flawed and harmful. Research by the Royal National Institute of Blind People shows that the Access to Work scheme brings in £1.48 for every £1 paid out, with broader economic benefits of £3.86. This isn't about generosity – it's about smart investment.

From Community to Isolation

When I was young, being disabled meant being supported and included. My community understood that access wasn't charity; it was simply good policy. Now, we're told that disability is a burden, not a shared experience. This narrative is dangerous because it creates a false equivalence between disability and personal failure.

I've seen this play out in my own life and in the lives of many others I know. My brother, who once lived under the same roof with us, said, 'It's all right for you with your free car, free house and benefits cash.' These words, spoken by someone I trusted, illustrate how deeply the lies have taken root – even within families.

This is not just a political issue. It's a human rights issue. When we allow fear and misinformation to shape our understanding of disability, we erode the fabric of our society. We lose sight of the fact that accessibility improvements benefit everyone, not just disabled people.

Technology and Inclusion

The digital age has brought new tools for inclusion – voice-to-text software, video calling, mobile accessibility features – but these innovations are often dismissed as 'for disabled people' rather than recognizing their universal value. We've been told that these advances are special accommodations, but they're actually part of the evolution of how we all communicate and navigate our world.

When I visit clubs and events supported by Phab, I meet disabled individuals who dream of having a life like mine. But they're not just dreaming – they're trying to live it, and they deserve the same opportunities for success and self-determination that I've had. The path forward requires more than sympathy; it requires understanding.

"If we want an inclusive society, we must listen to disabled voices, because inclusion is not about charity or pity – it's about recognition of equal rights."

As we approach the 31st anniversary of the Disability Discrimination Act and the 16th since its replacement by the Equality Act, we're not just celebrating legal milestones. We're confronting a fundamental truth: that progress is never linear. We have regressed in our understanding, and the consequences are visible in how disabled people are treated.

Reclaiming Our Narrative

I've lived long enough to see both the promise and the peril of inclusion. The promise was real – a society where disability didn't define a person's worth or limit their potential. But the peril came from the toxic rhetoric that followed, which made it harder for people like me to thrive.

Today, we're faced with a choice: continue down this path of fear and misunderstanding, or return to the values of inclusion, respect, and equal treatment that should define us as a nation. The evidence is clear – when we invest in accessibility and support, we all benefit. When we treat disability as a personal failing rather than a social issue, we hurt everyone.

My journey through decades of changing attitudes has taught me that the most powerful tool against discrimination is not protest or legislation alone – it's education. It's about helping people understand that being disabled doesn't mean being less valuable; it means having different needs and abilities. And when those needs are met with dignity, everyone wins.

Let's not forget: inclusion isn't charity. It's the fundamental right of every person to live with respect, access, and opportunity. That's what this article is about – reclaiming our narrative and recognizing that a society that truly values everyone benefits all its members.