An International Disabled People's Day plea
Hello,
Today is International Disabled People’s Day.
Back when I first started to embrace activism and the community, this day felt like such a celebration. Sure, we never really got media or brand involvement, but I’d log on to Instagram and see a flood of people talking advocating for themselves or sharing what they loved about being disabled and I’d get that warm, fuzzy feeling known as Pride.
Now, though? It’s hard not to view the whole thing with cynicism. All the advocates and creatives I know (including me) are struggling to get work. I haven’t been invited to give a corporate talk for months. Even paid subscriptions to this newsletter, which I put my heart and soul into, have suddenly taken a tumble. Many of us have found our reach on social media has plummeted, too, as a new algorithm seems to be hiding any content that promotes equality (big yikes). A lot of the work that used to bring tangible rewards - seeing change happen in real time - now just feels a bit, well, pointless. And then there’s the harsh reality that when we needed the allies we thought we’d made the most - when we needed people to oppose the Pip cuts and assisted dying bill - the vast majority of those allies were nowhere to be seen.
The core problem is this: what engagement there was from nondisabled people has evaporated into the ether. A distant memory I wonder if I all but imagined.
And I think this is a direct result of the political climate.
Two things are true here:
The turn towards the far right has emboldened those who hate disabled people and created apathy among lots of others
The centre and the left have thrown disabled people under the bus, and legitimised/reinforced some of that right-wing hatred, because it seems politically convenient to do so
The first is terrifying but somehow the second is more depressing, both because it feels like betrayal and because it rather reduces any sense of hope. If the people supposedly on our own side are in fact not, we have an awfully long way to go, don’t we?
This is not a good place to be.
And what does this place look like in every day life? Well, put it this way: I have experienced more hate this year than ever before. And so have many of my friends. The messages fly through Whatsapp groups: It feels like it’s getting worse. Stay safe.
So no, today doesn’t feel like celebration. To be honest, it mostly just feels sad. But there is also a kernel of something else: defiance.
Because we’re still here. We’re still fighting. Still writing and campaigning and doing the work of liberation. The war is still raging but we’ve won some battles along the way. Eventually, we’ll win others. We’re down but by no means out.
But this defiance comes with a plea: we need your help. In this political climate, any voice that challenges hatred is desperately needed. It is not enough, anymore, to simply not be ableist yourself - we need you to be anti-ableist, a stance which requires action as well as thought. We need you to turn up at protests, call out nasty rhetoric, contribute to fundraisers, write to your MP - in short, we need you to support us in tangible ways. Defiance is built through defying, after all.
We want to be able to celebrate again. Please, please help us make that possible.
In solidarity,
Lucy
My book, The View From Down Here: On being disabled in an ableist world, is out now in paperback!
“A vital call to arms that demands we confront ableism at every level of society. Lucy Webster’s work is fierce, unapologetic, and essential - this is the blueprint for a world where all women belong.” - Sophie Morgan, TV presenter
“I have never related to a book more. Disabled or not, you must read it! Amazing. I love it.” - Rosie Jones, comedian
“A sharp, funny & deeply beautiful memoir that doesn’t shy away from the realities of disabled life and instead takes power from them.” - Ruth Madeley, actress