The Emotional Weight of Invisible Barriers

There’s something about disability that people often don’t talk about an emotional weight that doesn’t always get noticed. It’s the invisible barriers that get me more than the physical ones. It’s the unspoken things, the tiny moments in which I can feel the discomfort of others, the hesitance when they see me in spaces that aren’t built for me. These are the moments that make me realize that, despite the fact that the world is full of people, I’m still alone in many of these spaces.

It’s not just the high curbs, or the doors that don’t open wide enough, or the accessible toilets that are anything but. Those things are easy to point out and address, at least in theory. People can see them, and they’re tangible. It’s the emotional toll that gets to me, the exhaustion of constantly feeling like my body is an inconvenience or an exception. I can predict the physical barriers. But it’s the mental weight the emotional labour that I never fully expect.

I don’t just navigate physical space differently; I navigate social space differently too. I enter rooms not just thinking about whether I’ll be able to physically get in, but whether people will see me as I am or see me as a burden. Will they make the effort to engage with me, or will I be ignored, as if my presence doesn’t matter? How often do I find myself scanning a room, wondering if I’ll be treated like a person or a puzzle for others to solve?

It’s tiring. It’s exhausting, really, to constantly have to prepare myself for being either seen as invisible or as something that needs to be fixed. That mental energy drains me more than any physical barrier ever could.

There’s a subtle, ongoing assumption that I need help with everything. People grab my chair without asking, they speak to whoever is with me instead of to me, assuming I can’t speak for myself. I’m often treated like I’m incapable of making decisions or doing simple things, just because I use a wheelchair. And while I appreciate genuine help when I need it, the reality is that I’m treated as though I’m not capable of handling things on my own.

It’s the little things. Like when I’m speaking and someone looks past me, as if they’ve already decided what I need. Or when I’m asked questions about my disability that I don’t owe an answer to, simply because my body doesn’t fit into the usual category of “normal.” These moments are so common that I’ve almost learned to expect them. But they still take a toll.

I’ve had people say things like, “You’re so brave,” or “I didn’t even notice you were in a wheelchair,” and while they may mean well, it’s another reminder that I’m still being seen through a lens of pity or surprise. “Brave” implies that what I’m doing existing is something exceptional or heroic. I don’t need to be seen as brave for living my life, for navigating the world. I’m not looking for approval. I’m just trying to exist in the same spaces that anyone else occupies. I just want to be seen as a person, not as someone who’s doing something extraordinary simply by being here.

What’s even harder to stomach is that the emotional labour of explaining myself, of trying to make my presence understood, becomes so ingrained that it becomes a part of my identity. Every time I enter a space, I feel like I have to decide: Do I engage? Do I explain why I need a seat or a ramp? Do I remind people that I can speak for myself? It’s exhausting. It’s tiring to constantly navigate the space between being “othered” and trying to fit in.

What gets to me is the way that I’m constantly expected to apologize for taking up space. There’s a constant sense that I should be asking for permission to exist. I don’t know how many times I’ve walked into a room and felt the need to explain myself, to make myself more palatable to others. It’s not that I want to be invisible; it’s that I don’t want to be seen as a problem.

The emotional weight is the hardest part of all of this the way it wears you down over time. The constant negotiation of my worth, the ongoing battle of proving I belong in spaces that weren’t made for me. It’s exhausting to constantly have to justify my presence and my needs, even when they should be assumed. We’ve come so far in many respects, but in some ways, it feels like things are still moving too slowly, like the fight for recognition is still being fought in rooms where no one is listening.

It’s not just the big barriers, but the small ones that chip away at my sense of belonging. The comments, the looks, the ways in which people assume that I need something or that I can’t do something simply because of the wheelchair. The emotional labour of navigating these interactions, of finding myself constantly in a position where I have to make others feel comfortable with my presence it’s a burden that few people understand.

The thing is, I don’t want to be seen as someone who needs to be fixed. I don’t want my presence to be something that’s constantly questioned or doubted. I just want to take up space, like anyone else. I want to be seen as a person who can contribute, who can engage, who can be part of the world, without having to fight for my right to do so every single time.

The invisible barriers those are the hardest ones. The ones you can’t see, but that you feel every day. They’re the ones that aren’t accounted for, the ones that linger in the background, making me question my worth in spaces that I’m entitled to occupy. And maybe that’s the most exhausting part of all constantly navigating these spaces, constantly trying to prove that my presence, my body, my life, is worth the same space as anyone else’s.

I don’t expect everyone to get it. But I do expect them to try. Because until the world starts recognizing the emotional labour that disabled people carry every day, these invisible barriers will continue to weigh us down, unnoticed by most, but felt by all who live with them.

The Right to Be Seen Without Explanation

It’s a quiet but heavy burden that comes with being disabled in public spaces: the constant need to justify your existence. It’s not always direct confrontation, but it’s always there, lurking in the background. It's the moments when people look at me but don’t really see me, when they speak around me or over me, assuming I don’t have the ability to speak for myself. It’s the way my body becomes an object of curiosity, a puzzle they feel entitled to solve.

It’s a quiet but heavy burden that comes with being disabled in public spaces: the constant need to justify your existence. It’s not always direct confrontation, but it’s always there, lurking in the background. It's the moments when people look at me but don’t really see me, when they speak around me or over me, assuming I don’t have the ability to speak for myself. It’s the way my body becomes an object of curiosity, a puzzle they feel entitled to solve.

But the truth is, I don’t owe anyone an explanation about my body. I don’t need to explain why I use a wheelchair, why my body moves differently, why I don’t fit into their narrow assumptions of what’s “normal.” My body isn’t a riddle for you to solve. And yet, society constantly expects me to explain myself, to prove that my presence is valid, that my body is worthy of space.

This constant demand for justification starts to chip away at my sense of self. It feels as though my mere existence is in question, as if my right to occupy the same spaces as everyone else needs to be earned. When I’m asked questions like “What happened to you?” it’s not curiosity. It’s a suggestion that my body is an anomaly, something that needs to be explained before it’s allowed to exist freely. My body, just like anyone else’s, should be allowed to take up space without having to justify why it’s there. But in reality, that’s not how the world works.

I often wonder why this is. Why is it that disabled people, and especially those who don’t fit into narrow standards of “normal,” are so frequently expected to explain ourselves? Think about it: no one asks an able-bodied person, “Can you walk?” No one demands that they explain why they’re in a room, why they belong. No one questions their right to take up space or have a seat at the table. But for me, every time I roll into a room, every time I enter a new space, I have to ask myself will they see me as entitled to be here, or will I have to fight for my right to exist in this space?

This isn’t about the occasional rude comment or the glances from people who are unfamiliar with disability. This is about a broader, systemic issue. It’s about the fact that, as a disabled person, I’m constantly negotiating my presence. I’m made to feel like I need to justify my existence in ways others never do. I’m asked to explain myself, to prove that I deserve the same access to space, the same consideration, the same respect as anyone else.

But I’m tired of explaining. I’m tired of feeling like I have to tell people the backstory of my disability just to be seen, just to be acknowledged. Why should I have to explain myself to make someone else comfortable with my presence? My body doesn’t need a story to exist, just as your body doesn’t. I am not an exception. I am not a curiosity. I am a person, just like anyone else, and I have the right to occupy space without feeling like I have to justify why I’m here.

The emotional toll of constantly justifying my presence is exhausting. It’s draining to have to explain to strangers, to acquaintances, and sometimes even to friends, why I am where I am and why I deserve to be there. This isn’t just about access it’s about dignity. It’s about feeling like my body is enough, that I am enough, without having to provide a justification for my existence.

We live in a world that wasn’t built for disabled people, and the constant demand for explanations only reinforces that. If society truly embraced the concept of accessibility, it would mean creating a world where disabled people don’t have to justify their presence. It would mean designing spaces, conversations, and systems that assume our right to be there without question.

We need to stop treating disability as something that needs to be explained, as something that needs to be fixed, as something that doesn’t quite fit into the “normal” order of things. Disability isn’t an anomaly, and it certainly doesn’t require an explanation before it can exist in the same space as everyone else.

I want to live in a world where my body is simply allowed to exist in the spaces I occupy, without the need for justification. I want to live in a world where disabled people don’t have to explain why they deserve to be seen, heard, and respected. Until that happens, I will keep showing up, unapologetically, without offering an explanation.

Because my presence doesn’t need to be justified. I don’t owe anyone an explanation.

I am here. That is enough.

The Unspoken Labour of Accessibility

There’s a part of disability that no one talks about: the constant, uncelebrated labour of making sure the world accommodates you. It’s not just about accessible ramps or wide doorways. It’s the invisible work of constantly navigating, advocating, and making people understand that your needs your right to live freely are not special requests, but basic human rights.

When I roll up to a new place, I don’t just think about where the elevators are. I wonder if the doors are wide enough. I check for signs that let me know that someone in this space has thought about me. And more often than not, I find that I have to make the effort again and again to ensure that the spaces I enter will work for me. The effort is always invisible. It’s not the big gestures but the daily micro-actions. The quick moments when someone might hold the door open, or when I’m forced to ask for help to get over a small curb.

But that’s not the whole story, is it? It’s not just the logistical work of finding accessible routes and figuring out where I can go without running into barriers. It’s the mental labour, too. The worry, the stress, the frustration that builds every time I enter a new space. The constant wondering will this work for me? Will it be a struggle? Will I have to advocate for myself yet again? It’s exhausting

I don’t know how many times I’ve had to ask for a door to be held open. How many times I’ve had to navigate the crowded corners of cafes, hotels, shops, or public transport, hoping that someone will see me and take initiative without me having to say a word. The expectation is clear: I should be the one making sure I’m included, and if I’m not, well, that’s my problem to fix.

But the reality is, for me, accessibility is often an emotional and logistical burden that never ends. It’s not just about asking for something as simple as a door that opens; it’s about the exhausting process of managing what should be the bare minimum for inclusion. The emotional toll of constantly questioning whether I’ll be allowed in, whether I’ll be visible enough to be seen, whether I’ll have to fight for my right to just exist in a space. Sometimes, the mental exhaustion alone makes it feel like I’ve already run a marathon before I’ve even left my front door.

There’s a specific type of frustration I experience in public spaces, one that’s so common it feels almost trivial to mention except it’s not trivial at all. It’s the disabled toilet. The one that’s meant to be an accessible haven but turns into a test of patience, ingenuity, and sometimes sheer physical endurance.

I’ve lost count of the times I’ve entered a disabled toilet, only to realize I can’t even turn my wheelchair inside. The space is supposed to be there to give me the freedom to move, to change, to feel dignified. Instead, it’s a claustrophobic box, with walls too close and fixtures placed just wrong enough to make it impossible to get the turning radius I need. I’ve had to edge myself around corners, pushing myself against walls, trying to manoeuvre a space that was supposedly built for me. But somehow, it’s not.

And then there’s the door. The infamous door that’s supposed to open with ease but is often too heavy, too narrow, or too stubborn to budge without me risking injury. Sometimes, in a tight squeeze, I find myself scratching my fingers as I self-propel through the door, my hands stinging and raw as I push against resistance. A door that’s designed for accessibility should allow for easy entry, but in reality, it demands more physical effort than the average able-bodied person would even think twice about.

It’s infuriating. It’s not just the lack of space it’s the assumption that the space provided should somehow be enough. It’s as if the bare minimum of “accessible” has become acceptable. But there’s nothing acceptable about a toilet where you can’t even move your wheelchair without fear of scraping your knuckles or getting stuck in a corner.

What frustrates me even more is the lack of thought that goes into these spaces. How is it that designers, architects, and planners can create spaces that assume everyone is able-bodied, but then check off a box by adding a single, cramped stall with a wheelchair symbol on it? That’s not accessibility. That’s tokenism.

The problem is, these aren’t just inconveniences they’re obstacles. They aren’t minor details that can be brushed aside. They’re barriers to my autonomy, my comfort, and my dignity. Every time I’m forced into a situation where I struggle to turn, where I scrape my hands or feel suffocated by poor design, it’s a reminder that I don’t matter enough for spaces to be truly built for me. These are not just poorly designed toilets they are a reflection of a world that hasn’t bothered to think beyond the bare minimum of compliance.

The most basic accessibility is not enough. We need spaces that respect the bodies that occupy them. We need toilets where I don’t have to fight to fit my wheelchair, where I don’t risk injury just by trying to get through the door, and where I don’t have to accept less than what every person deserves. Until then, every visit to a “disabled toilet” becomes just another reminder that even when a space is “for us,” it’s rarely designed with us in mind.

It’s a labour I never signed up for, but that I take on day in and day out. I often find myself ahead of the curve anticipating the needs of those around me, whether it's asking for help when something’s out of reach or identifying the nearest accessible restroom. It’s a skill I’ve developed over time, but one I shouldn’t have to cultivate.

What gets lost in all of this is the energy it takes. The mental load of constantly preparing for, thinking about, and worrying whether or not the world will meet you halfway. Every time I have to ask for something whether it's a ramp, a seat, or an elevator button within reach I carry the weight of expectation: the expectation that it’s my responsibility to ensure that my needs are taken care of. And when I do have to ask, I feel like I’m the one who’s inconveniencing others, even though it’s society’s oversight that’s put me in this position.

But this work isn’t mine alone. This responsibility shouldn’t fall solely on disabled individuals. Society must do its part, not just by ticking boxes but by truly considering the intersectionality of accessibility. It’s not just about physical access; it’s about the emotional and cognitive work of navigating spaces that weren’t designed with you in mind. And it’s about those spaces becoming inclusive not as a favour, but as a basic expectation.

No one asks able-bodied people to carry the mental weight of accessibility. No one expects them to navigate every situation as if their right to be in a space needs justification. I often feel like I’m the one playing catch-up, filling in the gaps for a world that wasn’t built for me and doing it all while trying to maintain my own sense of dignity and agency. The sheer weight of it all sometimes makes me want to retreat, to stop showing up for a world that can’t seem to be bothered to show up for me.

This is why we need a shift in how accessibility is framed: it’s not just about ensuring access, it’s about creating a culture that respects the inherent dignity of every person. A culture where the unspoken labour of accessibility is shared, where I don’t have to constantly point out where things fall short, and where my presence is assumed, not an exception to the rule.

Until that happens, the work continues, quietly, persistently, unacknowledged. And I will continue to do it because I don’t have a choice. But that doesn’t mean it’s not exhausting.

Because accessibility is a right, not a favour. And it's about time that everyone understands that.

Do 'Disability Confident' Companies Really Care About Hiring Disabled People, or Is It Just a Tick-Box Exercise?

The UK’s ‘Disability Confident’ scheme was introduced to encourage employers to recruit and retain disabled people. On paper, it sounds like a positive step towards inclusivity. But in practice, does it truly lead to better employment opportunities for disabled individuals, or is it just another corporate box-ticking exercise with little real impact?

The Promise vs. The Reality

The Disability Confident scheme is designed to help employers become more inclusive by offering guidance and best practices for hiring and supporting disabled employees. Companies that sign up can achieve different levels of accreditation, with the highest level (‘Disability Confident Leader’) supposedly demonstrating an organisation’s full commitment to disability inclusion.

However, for many disabled job seekers, the reality is far from promising. Despite a company displaying the ‘Disability Confident’ badge on its website or job postings, many disabled applicants still struggle to secure employment. The question is: are companies truly changing their hiring practices, or are they merely meeting the minimum requirements to appear inclusive?

Many companies may make strong public commitments to disability inclusion but fail to follow through with tangible action. It’s common to see businesses proudly display their Disability Confident accreditation on recruitment pages while offering inaccessible application processes, conducting non-inclusive interviews, or failing to make reasonable adjustments once a disabled employee is hired.

Barriers Still Exist

Many disabled job seekers continue to face systemic challenges, including:

Bias in recruitment

Some companies may claim to be ‘disability confident’ but still reject qualified disabled candidates due to unconscious (or conscious) bias.

Lack of reasonable adjustments

Even when disabled employees are hired, they often struggle to get the adjustments they need to work effectively, such as flexible hours, assistive technology, or accessible office spaces.

Retention issues

Some companies hire disabled employees to meet diversity targets but fail to provide a supportive work environment, leading to high turnover rates.

Discriminatory hiring practices

Many disabled applicants report going through interview processes only to be rejected without clear feedback, making it difficult to determine whether their disability played a role in the decision.

Lack of alternative hiring assessments

Standard interviews often disadvantage disabled candidates, particularly those with neurodiverse conditions or communication difficulties. Employers rarely offer alternative methods of assessing a candidate’s true ability to do the job.

Assumptions about capability

Employers may assume that disabled candidates will require extensive accommodations or will not be able to perform as well as non-disabled colleagues, leading to automatic rejection before real skills are assessed.

Inaccessible job application processes

Many online application systems are not designed with accessibility in mind, making it difficult for disabled candidates to apply in the first place.

Failure to provide disability-inclusive career progression

Even when disabled people are employed, they are often overlooked for promotions, leadership roles, and training opportunities, limiting their career growth

What Can You Do as a Disabled Job Seeker?

If you are struggling to secure a job despite attending interviews, it’s important to consider several strategies:

Request feedback

Politely ask interviewers for constructive feedback to understand whether there are areas to improve or whether bias may be a factor.

Seek support

Disability employment services, mentoring schemes, and advocacy groups can help navigate the job market and provide tailored guidance.

Challenge discrimination

If you suspect discrimination, you have the right to file a complaint or seek legal advice through organisations such as ACAS or the Equality and Human Rights Commission.

Explore alternative pathways

Self-employment, freelancing, or social enterprises may provide more accessible work environments where you have greater control over your career.

Network and find allies

Connecting with disabled professionals and inclusive employers through LinkedIn or disability-focused career events can open doors to opportunities that might not be publicly advertised.

Look for genuinely inclusive employers

Some companies go beyond the Disability Confident scheme and have a proven track record of hiring and supporting disabled employees. Research company policies, employee testimonials, and reviews on workplace inclusion.

Tick-Box Culture and PR Spin

One of the biggest concerns is that for some employers, being ‘Disability Confident’ is little more than a branding exercise. Achieving a Disability Confident accreditation does not require companies to prove that they have successfully hired or retained disabled employees—only that they have pledged to follow certain guidelines. This means that a company can achieve accreditation without making any real, measurable impact.

Some businesses use disability inclusion as a public relations tool rather than a true commitment to change. They may sign pledges, attend diversity panels, or release statements during Disability History Month while simultaneously failing to support their disabled employees or job applicants.

Advice for Employers: Moving Beyond a Tick-Box Exercise

If employers genuinely want to make their workplaces more inclusive, they must take action beyond simply signing up for the Disability Confident scheme. Here’s what they can do:

Ensure recruitment processes are accessible

Use accessible online application platforms, offer alternative interview formats, and be clear about adjustments available for disabled candidates.

Provide clear career progression opportunities

Disabled employees should have equal opportunities for promotions, leadership roles, and professional development.

Be transparent about disability inclusion

Companies should publish statistics on how many disabled people they hire and retain to demonstrate real commitment

Conduct independent audits

External reviews should assess whether a company’s disability policies are genuinely effective, rather than just performative.

Invest in training

Disability inclusion training should be mandatory for recruiters, hiring managers, and senior leadership to challenge unconscious biases and improve understanding of reasonable adjustments

Create a culture of support

Employers should actively consult disabled employees and listen to their needs rather than assuming what adjustments are required.

Hire disabled people into leadership roles

Representation matters. Having disabled people in decision-making positions ensures workplace policies are shaped by lived experiences.

Go beyond compliance

Rather than meeting the bare minimum legal requirements, businesses should strive to create an environment where disabled employees thrive, not just survive.

While the Disability Confident scheme has the potential to drive meaningful change, too many companies use it as a badge of honour rather than a catalyst for action. Until businesses prove that they are genuinely committed to inclusive hiring and workplace support, many disabled job seekers will continue to view it as just another corporate tick-box exercise.

Real change requires more than just words—it requires action, accountability, and a genuine desire to remove barriers for disabled people in the workforce. Employers must stop treating disability inclusion as a PR exercise and start ensuring that disabled people have the same opportunities, respect, and career prospects as everyone else.

Coercion in Intimate Relationships: The Silent Abuse of Disabled People

Gender-based violence is a pervasive issue that affects millions of people across the world, but for those with disabilities, the forms it takes can be more complex, isolating, and difficult to recognise. One of the most insidious and often overlooked forms of abuse is sexual coercion. This type of abuse occurs when one partner pressures, manipulates, or forces the other into sexual activities against their will. For disabled individuals, coercion can be particularly hard to identify and even harder to escape, especially when it occurs within intimate relationships where trust and dependence are central.

While sexual coercion can manifest in many ways, disabled individuals face unique and severe challenges that make this form of abuse even more pervasive. In relationships where one partner is a caregiver, these challenges are often compounded, making it harder for the victim to speak out, resist, or even recognise the abuse as it unfolds.

Understanding Coercion in the Context of Disability

Coercion involves manipulation, threats, or force to obtain sexual activity without the other person’s consent. However, sexual coercion is not always overt. It can be subtle and gradual, often involving emotional manipulation, pressure, or the exploitation of power dynamics in a relationship.

For disabled individuals, coercion may not just occur in the form of forceful or physical pressure. It can also happen when the abuser plays on the vulnerability of their partner—exploiting their dependency for care, emotional support, or financial assistance. This form of abuse can go unnoticed because it is often masked by the guise of "care" or "love."

Coercion and Dependency

In many cases, disabled people rely on their partner or caregiver for daily support, such as assistance with mobility, personal care, or medical needs. This creates a power imbalance where the disabled individual may feel they have little choice but to comply with their partner’s demands, even when those demands involve sex.

For example, a caregiver might say something like, “If you love me, you’ll do this,” or “You owe me for everything I’ve done for you.” These comments blur the lines between genuine affection and control. The disabled person, already in a vulnerable position, may feel trapped, uncertain of how to refuse or whether their refusal will lead to negative consequences, such as a loss of care, increased isolation, or further violence.

Physical Abuse and Sexual Coercion

While emotional manipulation and pressure are common forms of coercion, there are situations where physical violence becomes part of the coercion. Disabled individuals, particularly those with limited mobility or who require assistance with personal care, may be at greater risk of being physically forced into sexual activities by their partner, who also serves as their caregiver.

This abuse can take the form of being physically restrained or manipulated into engaging in sex when the person is physically or emotionally exhausted, in pain, or unwell. The caregiver may use threats or acts of violence, such as hitting, pinching, or rough handling, to coerce sexual activity. The disabled individual may not have the strength to defend themselves, may feel they have no other option but to comply, or might be too afraid to speak out because of the potential consequences.

Many people with disabilities experience chronic pain, fatigue, or medication side effects, which can make it even harder to resist sexual coercion. In these cases, abuse is not just a matter of power; it’s about taking advantage of someone who is physically vulnerable.

Why Coercion is Hard to Recognise and Report

Coercion is often difficult to identify because it doesn’t always leave visible scars. The signs of coercion and sexual violence are not as obvious as physical assault, and when abuse occurs in the context of caregiving, it is often masked by the care and support being provided.

Moreover, many disabled individuals may feel isolated, dependent, or even guilty for speaking out. The fear of losing care or support, or the shame of having their abuse dismissed, can make it hard to take action. Many disabled people are also vulnerable to social isolation, and without a support network, they may feel trapped in abusive relationships with no way out.

In the UK, there is also a lack of tailored support for disabled survivors of abuse. The current support services may not be fully accessible or equipped to address the specific needs of disabled people, whether it’s in terms of physical accessibility to shelters, the provision of assistance with communication needs, or the understanding of how abuse manifests in these relationships.

The Role of Societal Perceptions

In addition to physical and emotional abuse, another key factor that exacerbates sexual coercion among disabled people is the prevailing societal perception of disability. In the UK, disabled people are often perceived as asexual or incapable of experiencing sexual desire, which makes it easier for abusers to dismiss their needs and desires.

This stereotype can create a toxic environment where disabled individuals are not seen as worthy of consent, or worse, where their sexual autonomy is ignored. Many disabled people may internalize these societal views, believing that they don’t have the right to express their desires or say no. The pervasive belief that disabled people are “lucky” to have someone in their life who is willing to care for them can lead to a situation where they are sexually exploited, yet they feel unable to assert their right to refuse.

Reporting and Support Challenges

In the UK, victims of sexual coercion face significant challenges when it comes to reporting abuse. Disabled individuals may experience physical, communication, or psychological barriers when trying to disclose their experiences. For example, a person with a learning disability or cognitive impairment might struggle to communicate their experience of coercion or might be misunderstood by professionals, such as law enforcement, social workers, or healthcare providers.

There is also the issue of mistrust. Disabled people often feel that their experiences are dismissed or minimized, especially when their abuser is someone in a position of power, such as a caregiver or intimate partner. The fear of not being believed or being further isolated can prevent many from seeking help.

The Psychological and Emotional Toll

The emotional consequences of sexual coercion are far-reaching. Survivors often experience feelings of guilt, shame, and fear. They may struggle with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), depression, and anxiety. These emotional tolls are often compounded by the isolation many disabled individuals face, leaving them without the support systems they need to recover.

The abuse can also erode a person’s sense of self-worth, leading them to question their autonomy or feel undeserving of better treatment. For many, this creates a cycle of emotional manipulation and dependency that can be extremely difficult to break, making it harder to leave the abuser or seek help.

What Needs to Change?

In order to protect disabled individuals from sexual coercion, a multifaceted approach is needed. First, we need to dismantle harmful stereotypes about disability and sexuality, recognising that disabled people have the same right to sexual autonomy and consent as anyone else.

Second, there needs to be better access to support services. Shelters, social services, and legal professionals need to be better trained to recognise the signs of coercion and abuse within relationships that involve disabled individuals. Services must be made more accessible—physically, emotionally, and mentally—to ensure that disabled survivors can reach out for help without fear of stigma or being misunderstood.

Finally, we must encourage open dialogue about the sexual rights of disabled individuals. Only through education, awareness, and better societal understanding can we begin to create an environment where disabled people are empowered to say "no" and are supported in asserting their rights and dignity.

If you or someone you know is experiencing sexual coercion or gender-based violence, it’s essential to seek support. There are organisations in the UK, such as Women’s Aid and Scope, that provide resources for disabled survivors of abuse and can help guide individuals through the process of reporting abuse and accessing legal and emotional support.

Who Fights for Us? The Forgotten Disabled Voices

As a Black, female wheelchair user in the UK, I live a life filled with constant obstacles—visible and invisible. In this so-called age of inclusion and progress, my everyday reality often feels stuck in the dark ages, as if society still views disability as a curse to be hidden away.

We talk endlessly about diversity and inclusion, about smashing glass ceilings for women and racial minorities. But where is the same energy for disability? Where is the urgency to address the systemic barriers that keep so many of us excluded from the workforce, public spaces, and even conversations about equality? We are the forgotten ones, marginalized within marginalized groups.

The Barriers We Face

Heavy Doors and Broken Promises

Let’s start with something as simple as a door. For wheelchair users, heavy, inaccessible doors are often the first indication that we are not welcome. And it doesn’t stop there. Workplaces claim to be “inclusive,” but once you get through the door—if you can—you find a host of other obstacles.

Managers have no clue about disability or how to support disabled employees. They bury us in unnecessary paperwork, often more about ticking boxes than taking meaningful action. Accessibility audits? Policies? They exist on paper but are rarely implemented on the ground.

Invitations Without Inclusion

Recently, I was invited to the House of Commons by a lawyer friend to discuss the policing of BME people in the UK. It should have been an incredible opportunity to share my perspective and be part of an important conversation. But the room booked for the meeting wasn’t wheelchair-accessible. Imagine that—a discussion on equality and inclusion in one of the most prominent institutions in the country, and I couldn’t even attend.

How can we expect progress when change isn’t modelled from the top? Accessibility must begin at the highest levels of government and filter down. Otherwise, all we have is a piece of legislation gathering dust

The Invisible Bias

Even when you get the job, the barriers don’t disappear. As a Black disabled woman, I face multiple layers of discrimination. Employers may claim to value diversity, but the truth is they often see disability as a liability. The whispers, the side glances, the unspoken assumptions—they’re constant. And when managers don’t understand disability, it leaves us stuck in a system that fails to support or uplift us.

The Legislation That Isn’t Working

The Equality Act is supposed to protect us, but what good is legislation if it isn’t enforced? Employers get away with ignoring accessibility requirements because there are no real consequences. They talk about being inclusive, but without action, their words are hollow.

What Needs to Change

1. Government Leadership

Change must start from the top. Parliament and government institutions must lead by example by ensuring that every building, meeting room, and process is fully accessible. If the House of Commons can’t get it right, what hope is there for the rest of society?

2. Enforce the Equality Act

We need stronger enforcement of accessibility laws, with penalties for non-compliance. Employers must be held accountable for failing to create truly inclusive work environments.

3. Accessible Workplaces

Physical Accessibility: No more heavy doors, poorly designed lifts, or inaccessible meeting rooms. Accessibility should be a basic standard, not an afterthought.

4. Disability Training for Managers

Employers need to educate their leadership teams. Managers must understand disability—not as an inconvenience, but as an essential part of building a diverse, thriving workplace.

Employers need to educate their leadership teams. Managers must understand disability—not as an inconvenience, but as an essential part of building a diverse, thriving workplace.

5. Representation in Decision-Making

Disabled voices must be included at every level of decision-making. It’s not enough to consult us; we need to be in the room, shaping policies and driving change.

6. Quotas for Disability

Race and gender quotas exist, but what about disability? If employers truly care about inclusion, they must set targets for hiring and promoting disabled employees, backed by meaningful support.

A Cry for Inclusion

This is my story, but it’s not just mine. It’s the story of countless disabled people who are excluded, dismissed, and forgotten. We are not asking for pity or special treatment. We are asking for equality, for accessibility, for the opportunity to contribute without having to fight every step of the way.

If no one fights for us, who will? Change must come from above, or we will remain trapped in a system that sees us as an afterthought. We are not invisible. We are here, and we deserve better.

Why Accessibility and Disability Inclusion is Everyone’s Business in the UK Workplace: A Personal Perspective

'The problem with disability people is you want it all. You should accept the few things that have been done to support you. The more you ask for more, the more the employees are likely to stop employing you' this is what my taxi driver said on my way to work. I couldn't believe my ears. I told him that if we don't point out when there are issues with accessibility, the less likely are we to have or see change.

Navigating the UK workplace as a wheelchair user with an invisible illness has provided me with a unique insight into the importance of accessibility and disability inclusion. These principles are not just about ticking boxes for compliance; they are about creating environments where everyone can contribute and thrive. My journey has shown me that ensuring people with disabilities are included and accommodated benefits individuals and enriches the entire workplace.

Barriers I’ve Faced and Overcome

Despite the progress made in recent years, there are still significant barriers that people with disabilities face in the workplace. Here are some that I’ve encountered and how they’ve shaped my perspective

Physical Barriers:

Inaccessible Workspaces:

Early in my career, I struggled with offices that lacked ramps and accessible restrooms. These barriers were not just inconvenient; they were exclusionary, making me feel like an outsider.

Ergonomic Challenges

In one job, my workstation was not suited to my needs, causing physical discomfort and reducing my productivity. Adjustments had to be made for me to work comfortably.

Technological Barriers:

Lack of Assistive Technology

In several roles, there was a lack of necessary assistive technology, which limited my ability to perform tasks efficiently. I had to advocate strongly to get the tools I needed to succeed.

Inaccessible Digital Content

Navigating company intranets and software that were not designed with accessibility in mind often left me feeling excluded from essential information and workflows.

Attitudinal Barriers:

Prejudice and Stereotyping:

I’ve faced misconceptions about my capabilities, where colleagues and managers underestimated my potential because of my disability. These prejudices were not just hurtful but also hindered my career progression.

Lack of Awareness:

I’ve encountered a general lack of awareness about disability issues, leading to unintentional exclusion and insensitivity. Educating my peers became a necessary part of my daily routine.

Organizational Barriers:

Inflexible Work Policies:

Rigid working hours and a lack of flexible working arrangements posed significant challenges. I needed more adaptable schedules to manage my health effectively.

Inadequate Support Systems

There were times when the support systems in place were insufficient, making it difficult to perform at my best without additional help.

The Importance of Accessibility and Inclusion Upholding Equality and Human Rights

Legal Framework:

The UK’s Equality Act 2010 mandates that employers must make reasonable adjustments. This legal framework is vital, but true inclusion goes beyond compliance; it’s about valuing every individual's contribution.

Human Rights

Ensuring accessibility and inclusion in the workplace is about more than legalities; it’s about respecting and upholding the basic human rights of every employee, including myself.

Enhancing Workplace Culture and Community

Inclusive Culture

By creating accessible workplaces, we build a culture where diversity is celebrated. I’ve seen firsthand how this leads to a more positive and dynamic work environment for everyone.

Community Engagement

Inclusive practices extend beyond the workplace, fostering better relationships with customers and the community. Businesses that prioritize accessibility often enjoy enhanced reputation and loyalty.

Economic Advantages

Broadening Talent Pool

Accessible workplaces attract a diverse range of talents. My unique perspective and problem-solving skills have often brought innovative solutions to the table.

Boosting Productivity

When I feel supported and valued, my productivity and morale soar. This is true for many others with disabilities, leading to a more engaged and effective workforce.

Financial Benefits

Businesses that cater to the needs of disabled people can access a larger market. The estimated 14.1 million disabled people in the UK represent a significant customer base.

Legal and Ethical Responsibilities

Compliance with the Equality Act

Ensuring compliance with the Equality Act 2010 is non-negotiable. For me, it’s reassuring to know that the law supports my right to reasonable adjustments.

Ethical Considerations

Beyond legal obligations, fostering an accessible and inclusive workplace is an ethical imperative. It shows a commitment to social responsibility and fair treatment.

Technological and Design Innovation

Inclusive Design

Incorporating universal design principles has led to workplace innovations that benefit everyone. For instance, ergonomic office furniture and accessible software have made a big difference in my productivity.

Advancing Assistive Technology:

The need for accessibility drives technological advancements, resulting in tools that enhance productivity and inclusivity for all employees.

Improving Quality of Life

Independence at Work

Accessible workplaces enable me and others with disabilities to work independently and contribute our best efforts. This boosts job satisfaction and overall quality of life.

Mental and Physical Well-being

Inclusive practices reduce stress and promote better mental health. Knowing I have the necessary support allows me to focus more on my work and less on overcoming barriers.

Addressing an Aging Workforce

Aging Population

As the UK’s population ages, more employees will experience disabilities. Ensuring workplaces are accessible will be crucial to accommodate the needs of older workers.

Retaining Experience:

Inclusive workplaces can retain experienced employees who may develop disabilities later in life, preserving valuable skills and knowledge.

Conclusion

Accessibility and disability inclusion in the UK workplace are essential for creating an environment where all employees can thrive. By addressing the barriers faced by disabled people like myself, we ensure that everyone has the opportunity to contribute their talents and skills. These practices uphold the principles of equality and human rights, enhance workplace culture, drive economic benefits, and foster innovation. As the UK continues to evolve, embracing accessibility and inclusion is crucial for building a fair, dynamic, and prosperous society. By making accessibility everyone's business, we ensure a more inclusive and equitable future for all.

Honestly , the barriers I face at the intersections of race, gender and disability are huge. I really hope things will improve .

Embracing a New Chapter: Navigating Disability, Work, and Life

Introduction

Life's unexpected twists can change everything in an instant. When a disability begins suddenly, it reshapes not just daily routines but one's entire approach to work and personal life. My experience over the past year has been a journey of adaptation, resilience, and self-discovery. This new chapter has been both challenging and enlightening, pushing me to redefine my boundaries and embrace a different way of living and working.

The Onset of Disability: A Shock to the System

The transition from an active, able-bodied life to navigating a disability was abrupt and disorienting. One day, I was moving through life without significant barriers; the next, I was faced with a host of new physical and emotional challenges. The initial shock was profound—there was the struggle to come to terms with the change, to understand its implications, and to manage the fear and uncertainty that accompanied it.

Adjusting to a New Reality: The Personal Impact

Adapting to a disability has meant more than just learning how to handle physical limitations. It’s involved grappling with a wide range of emotions—grief for what was lost, frustration at new constraints, and hope for what can still be achieved. I’ve had to reassess my self-image, my goals, and my approach to daily activities. This period of adjustment has also been about building resilience, finding new ways to engage with life, and discovering strengths I didn’t know I had.

Navigating the Workplace: New Challenges and Adaptations

The impact on my professional life has been significant. The shift from being fully capable to needing accommodations has presented its own set of challenges. At first, there was the practical aspect of figuring out how to modify my workspace and workflow to accommodate my new needs. Assistive technologies and ergonomic adjustments have become crucial, helping me to perform tasks effectively and comfortably.

But the changes were not only physical. There was also a need to communicate openly with my employer and colleagues about my situation. This required a delicate balance—advocating for necessary accommodations while also demonstrating my continued commitment and competence. Thankfully, my workplace has been understanding and supportive, but this isn’t always the case for everyone. Navigating this dynamic has involved continuous dialogue and adjustments.

Building New Skills and Finding Support

Over the past year, I’ve had to develop new skills and strategies to cope with my disability and continue being effective in my role. This has included learning about new tools and technologies, finding new ways to manage my time and energy, and seeking out support networks. Connecting with others who have faced similar challenges has been invaluable, offering insights and encouragement that have helped me through tough times.

Balancing Work and Personal Life: A New Perspective

Balancing work and personal life has taken on a new dimension. With the added challenges of managing a disability, self-care has become even more important. I’ve had to prioritize activities that support my physical and mental well-being, which means finding joy in different ways and recognizing the importance of rest and relaxation.

Pursuing hobbies, spending time with loved ones, and engaging in activities that bring fulfilment have all become essential parts of my life. These elements provide balance and help to counteract the stress and strain that can come from navigating a disability.

Looking Forward: Embracing Possibilities

As I reflect on the past year, I am filled with a sense of cautious optimism. The journey has been difficult, but it has also been transformative. I have learned to adapt, to persevere, and to find new ways to engage with the world. My focus now is on building a future that embraces my new reality, continuing to advocate for myself and others, and finding ways to contribute meaningfully both at work and in my personal life.

Conclusion

The past year has been a period of significant adjustment and growth. Navigating a disability that emerged suddenly has reshaped my life in profound ways. Through this journey, I have learned the importance of resilience, the value of support, and the strength that comes from adapting to new challenges. While the road has been rocky, it has also been filled with moments of discovery and hope. My experience is a testament to the fact that even in the face of unexpected change, it is possible to find new paths forward and to build a fulfilling and meaningful life.

Disability and Your Libido

People with physical or intellectual disabilities in our society are often regarded as non-sexual adults. Sex is very much associated with youth and physical attractiveness and when it is not, is often seen as “unseemly”.

If sex and disability are discussed, it is very much in terms of capacity, technique and fertility – in particular, male capacity and technique and female fertility – with no reference to sexual feelings. This approach ignores other aspects of sexuality, such as touching, affection and emotions.

Disabled people not non-sexual

If we accept that sexual expression is a natural and important part of human life, then perceptions that deny sexuality for disabled people deny basic right of expression. The perception of people with disabilities as non-sexual can present a barrier to safe sex education, both for workers who may be influenced by these views and for disabled people themselves in terms of gaining access to information and acceptance as sexual beings.

For paraplegic and quadriplegic people, loss of sexual function does not mean a corresponding loss of sexuality. Sexual function may be impaired but can, like other functions, be increased, although fertility is usually lost for men.

After spinal cord injury the spinal centre for sexual function is generally intact; it is the communication from the brain to the spinal centre that is usually disrupted. Unless some sensation in the area of the sexual organs remains, the usual sensation of orgasm is lost, but phantom orgasm elsewhere in the body may be experienced. However, the physical and emotional aspects of sexuality, despite the physical loss of function, continue to be just as important for disabled people as for non–disabled people.

In addition, opportunities for sexual exploration among disabled people, particularly the young, are very limited. There is often a lack of privacy and they are much more likely than other young people to receive a negative reaction from an adult if discovered. The general reduction in life choices also has an impact on self – esteem which in turn affects sexuality.

It is important for health care professionals, particularly those involved in education programs with disability workers or disabled people, to understand community attitudes towards disability and sexuality and the impact of these views upon disabled people themselves.

Let’s not sexually discriminate.

Depression and Your Libido

The "new generation" of antidepressants, of which Prozac is one, have helped return millions of people worldwide suffering from depression (as well as other serious conditions such as obsessive compulsive disorder and eating disorders) to mental health. One of the chief selling points of these drugs has been their negligible side-effects compared with earlier antidepressants.

However, there is one common side-effect that is often a serious cause of concern: sexual dysfunction.

At least 30%-60% of the men and women who take one of the popular newer antidepressants such as Prozac and Zoloft, experience some degree of sexual dysfunction.

Drug-related sex problems may include erection and ejaculation impairment in men, loss of lubrication in women, and, in both sexes, decreased or lost libido and delayed or blocked orgasm.

Some do get it up when they are down

For many people, the benefits of having their depression lifted far outweigh any possible sexual problems. There is also the argument that depression itself usually severely dampens libido. However, there is no question that healthy sexual function is an important component of quality of life for many people.

Often, as people experience their depression starting to ease, they feel eager to return to normal life - and that includes normal sexual behaviour.

Most people don't need to take antidepressants for their entire lives: once they stop taking the drugs, their sexual functioning returns to normal. Thus sexual dysfunction may not be a serious issue for people receiving short-term antidepressant treatment. But many chronically depressed people require treatment for many months or years.

For some, sexual side-effects can be a serious problem that leads them to stop taking the drugs, often without telling their doctors. This may result in relapse of the depression, which can be very serious.

What can you do?

There are numerous treatment options if your medication is causing sexual dysfunction. These options have not been successful in treating antidepressant-induced sexual problems in everybody, but usually a helpful alternative can be found.

Report any worrisome changes in sexual functioning to your doctor so that together you can seek a way to resolve the problem. Don't terminate your medication without a health professional's supervision and approval - this could lead to a relapse into depression.

Don't be shy to seek help.

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