International day of Disabled People

 

Celebrating Disabled People’s Creativity, Experience and Voices on the International Day of Disabled People

Pools and Prejudice: Death in the Shallows

On this International Day of Disabled People, there’s no better time to celebrate stories that challenge expectations, confront prejudice, and centre disabled lives with honesty and strength. That’s why I wrote Pools and Prejudice: Death in the Shallows— I hoped to balance tension, wit, and social commentary with rare precision.

If you’re looking for a book that will both grip you and make you think differently about the world, Pools and Prejudice: Death in the Shallows is exactly that. Today, we celebrate disabled creativity, disabled resilience, disabled truth-telling. 

I wanted the plot to shine a light on the realities of disabled people navigating a world that often refuses to see us clearly. 

The story follows Meg whose experiences of exclusion, institutional failure and everyday ableism are woven through a mystery that unfolds in and around a local swimming pool—a community space that becomes a microcosm of society’s attitudes towards disabled people.

I refused to soften the truth, and avoided speaking in metaphors or inspirational clichés. Instead, to give readers a narrative grounded in lived experience and disability equality: flawed systems, hidden hierarchies, the exhausting bureaucracy disabled people face, and the emotional resilience required simply to exist within them. And also hoped to capture the warmth, humour, friendship, and the small acts of solidarity that keep people going. 

Readers say: 

“Characters bring texture, complexity and humanity, each revealing different sides of disability, trust and belonging.

Pools and Prejudice is more than a mystery; it’s a challenge to look deeper—beneath the surface of institutions, beneath polite conversations, and beneath assumptions about what disabled lives should look like. It’s bold, unapologetic storytelling from a disabled writer who understands that representation is not a luxury but a necessity.”

On days like today, when the world pauses to recognise disabled people, their rights and their contributions, it reminds us why authentic stories matter. They expose injustice. They provoke conversation. They forge connection. And, importantly, they carve space for disabled people to be protagonists in their own narratives—complex, fierce, and fully realised.

Furthermore in order to respect Disabled People’s Identity and highlight Stereotypes, I was careful not to counter the negative stereotypes imposed on disabled people with equally toxic positive ones.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DLBHGBLX

How Often Do You Have Sex?

 

Now that I have your attention, let’s talk about narratives: How We Tell Tales

 

Think about narratives—the different types of conversations we have every day. Many of us change tone and wording without thinking. The way we speak changes depending on where we are and who we’re speaking to. You wouldn’t talk to your boss the way you talk to your best friend. You wouldn’t approach a stranger and immediately ask them about their intimate life. And yet, when it comes to disabled people, this social toggling or its sensitivity seems to disappear.

 If asked how often I have sex, I would expect the very close friend to have at least filled my glass a few times!

Public Narratives

 

Pick up a newspaper, and you will notice how journalists shape narratives to guide the reader’s focus. Consider a headline: George, 56, fell in the street because of a pothole. Why mention his age? Unless he is 5¾, George will be unlikely to want you to know his birthdate! Age is personal. A journalist will mention it because it jars—the wrong toggle invites a particular reaction. We identify with George if we're around his age; perhaps we’ll feel sympathy, concern, or a reminder of our own vulnerabilities. Journalism is about framing, about making certain details stand out while others fade into the background.

 

Similarly, if a journalist writes about sex in a professional context—say, a dentist having a relationship with a client—it’s because they hope their readers find it surprising. The narrative assumes that the mix of workplace culture and intimacy is unusual. In this case, there’s nothing to report. What dentists do in private is personal, as long as everyone consents. (Jill and John got married and lived happily ever after 🙂)

 

 

Misplaced Focus on Medical Matters

 

Getting the focus wrong—the toggling—often happens, sometimes unwittingly, when disability is written about. While many disabled people see themselves as human, the narratives about them often articulate a faulty, medicalised view. Reading about disability in mainstream literature, you’d be forgiven for thinking that most disabled people constantly need medical help. This framing can make disabled people seem less human, focusing only on their differences, often medical conditions. The narrative subtly shifts; the George headline becomes Autistic Falls in the Road.*

 

This brings me to a recent exchange in the supermarket. As I picked up a lettuce, I never expected to be asked about my condition(s). Not because I’m ashamed, but because it’s personal—jarring. Yet, I was asked what was wrong with me by a stranger. Sadly, it happens too often for me to ignore. Typically, in public, we don’t ask strangers deeply personal questions.

After ten years of study and research, I’m not surprised that disabled people are frequently subjected to intrusive questions: Are you taking medication? What’s your condition? Does your disability allow you to do this? These questions wouldn’t be acceptable to most typical social interactions, so why do they become acceptable when directed at people who appear disabled?

 

Literature and Personal Truths

 

Different literary genres use distinct storytelling methods. Mysteries, for instance, focus on action and facts, leading the reader in a straight line to solve the puzzle. Memoirs, on the other hand, rely on personal truths and emotional details, asking the reader to see the world from the writer’s unique perspective. As Mary Karr puts it in The Art of Memoir: “Truth works a tripwire that permits the book to explode into being.” So why tell tales about disabled people? Needy, lazy, broken, sick...

 

Disabled writers and scholars have pointed out that narratives about disability often follow a script that doesn’t align with their actual lived experiences. The focus tends to be on medical conditions rather than the person as a whole. This mirrors real-life interactions, where people feel comfortable asking disabled individuals personal questions of a clinical nature they wouldn’t ask anyone else   (Medical Model )

 

It’s not the same, but the equivalent of walking up to a stranger and asking, How often do you have sex?

 

So, the next time you meet someone, think about how you frame your questions. Do they reflect genuine curiosity about the person? Cats, curry, chardonnay? Or are they shaped by a narrative you’ve not challenged? Let’s move beyond the jarring stereotypes and towards conversations that recognise all people as complex individuals.

*totally disrespectful I'll agree! 

Breaking The Bias

With huge thanks to Emma, and the University of Birmingham alumni team [@BBSalumniUoB]!! Let’s break the bias together! 

Mind the box

Our minds need to deal with a huge amount of information on a daily basis, so it’s unsurprising that we tend to lump stuff together. The boxes we shove information into, the stereotyping, isn’t the problem! What creates bias is the lack of thought we give to this boxing and its impact on our feelings and the difficulty we have in retrieving stuff. We rarely question, for example, whether it was put away correctly in the first place. Our boxing system is neither nuanced nor sensitive, it does not matter whether ideas are good, bad, right or wrong, in they go largely unquestioned. It seems volume matters more than accuracy, if what we hear is loud enough, and what we see is noticeable enough, we lob it in. If we hear sexist, homophobic, and racist comments they end up in a box. We have boxes full of ‘em.  Indeed, confirmation bias will see us actively adding conspicuous anomalies to our boxes, rather than looking out for the positive contributions individuals and groups make to the world around us.

 

When we think too fast, we react to the box, rather than take time to reflect on what is inside it - what we’ve seen, heard or read. Our judgements are skewed when based on what is assumed, our reaction likely to be in tune with what we feel – not at odds with what we think, had we taken time to question these feelings.  

At the crossroads on Women’s Day

As a disabled woman, I can speak on how ableism and ableism intersect. I used to be quite baffled by how emphatically some have rejected my experience over the decades.

A colleague once asked for my address, when I got to West Yorkshire… "no" they said … I looked at them somewhat confused. A stream of justifications followed, explaining why they had assumed that ‘West’ was not a region and why they felt I was wrong. I had to remind them it was my address, therefore I was most likely to know if it was correct or not. It was an uncomfortable moment for us both but illustrates quite clearly how unconscious bias works to confirm prejudice. A prejudice that ordinarily was absent in the appreciation of my contribution until that moment of inattention. Prejudiced was the assumption, in the split-second reaction, influencing my colleague's choice between my truth and theirs [here mine was rejected, but maybe I would have accepted theirs had I not been so certain of my own address - positive prejudice].

 

I’ve experienced this sort of thing many times, and the more I notice it the more it infuriates me. While I understand how bias happens, it’s no less painful to hear someone not believing you. Furthermore, BECAUSE it’s unconscious, I am likely to rattle someone’s certainty when opposing their feelings. They may feel they are right, but would possibly agree that the ideas they hold may be wrong. So it is of little help to point out the reaction, without the stereotype it is based on - the stories that are rarely questioned. Which makes the bias, or unchallenged assumption, especially difficult to stop. Because engaging in the stereotypes, lurking in everyday myths, demands a willingness to become aware of how prejudice works, and the lack of awareness that drives it. How seemingly unremarkable ideas lead us to have beliefs that we do not articulate.

 

Language and culture 

Our language and our culture create our world, what we say and what we see, is the fabric on which we weave our own story. Language matters because what gets the most airtime becomes the most trusted story - in the bigger storytelling. The shortcuts we take, for example in office or technical terminology, often reinforce either negative or positive ideas, particularly where wording does not help convey the complexity beyond our focus. Largely we stop questioning the assumptions we encounter daily when we hear the same story time and time again. If an idea is at odds with our experience [West Yorkshire] it will be dismissed, in time the exceptional is ignored and alternative views may disappear from the conversation altogether. When stressed, embarrassed, tired, or pushed for time, we rely more on feeling. It is then that we are less able to hear alternative views. Sadly our feelings aren’t critical or nuanced, we are far more likely to react to the box than think about what’s in it. Unless we're careful, we stop questioning the dominant narrative: the sexism, racism, homophobia, classism, religious intolerance, and the rejection of family or personal choice, because it's just too unremarkable being around us every day.

 

Unfortunately, when the ideas about a group of people are largely negative, our thoughts and actions may alter. For example, if we hear often enough that widget makers are cranky, we might approach them with trepidation- without even realising why we’re acting differently.  To unlearn bias we will need to identify very mindfully that the assumption - cranky - is worth questioning to then think quite deliberately about its veracity. Are the widget makers I’ve met cranky? Is it likely that ALL widget makers are equally cranky? Is it more likely that among widget makers some may be cranky but on the whole no more than any other group? In addition, overall there are more differences between widget makers than those not making widgets. Have widget makers had bad press over the years? Could their actions also be a reaction to this bad PR!?

 

Questioning the assumption

The bias, regarding sexism and ableism, comes from what we’ve seen and heard about disabled women over the years. Silence, or negative ideas, may have led to a list of unarticulated beliefs that sway our judgment, and while the ideas we boxed unquestionably may seem incongruous when exposed, it’s likely we react to them without thinking. Gladwell suggests we react so fast, in the blink of an eye, that our excuse is built on reaction rather than the assumption. the bias, then, is reinforced by thinking, rather than the idea exposed for myth. In this cycle, while evidence may be ignored, experience sits at odds with wider understanding becoming less important than our experience.  

 

While we ignore the impact of stereotypes on our actions, we’ll also unwittingly seek to confirm our bias, by not noticing the negative implications of our poor practice. Those in receipt of prejudice tend to react, rather than flourish, in an internal struggle against the discrimination they encounter. Energy directed in defence will be unavailable for advance. 

Breaking good

 Being nice does not break bias, particularly when it reinforces an otherwise unarticulated belief that some women are needy or deserving of pity. Exposing the myths is more important, a good spring clean of what we've boxed. Disabled women are no needier or wanting of pity. Exposing the negative ideas, those we see all too often when we search for them, and encourages us to identify the sexist/ablist assumptions behind so many storylines. Courageous, vile, uneducated, stupid, unfeeling - the many characterisations of cranky - imposed on groups and individuals.  

Breaking bias calls on us to replace complacency with action. To notice the assumptions, if not in the moment, soon after it! By asking "why did I feel I had to question and correct Joanna Jones?"  Reflection in action may be better still "before I interrupt Joanna, I better trust Ms Jones, and stop myself from interrupting or correcting her". Better still is to look for the harmful impact of many assumptions, hold them up for scrutiny, and think about the unintended consequences of what we say.  Thinking about Joanna Jones’s experience having to negotiate sexism and ableism, and understanding her success in breaking expectations- an achievement that needs to be evident. Most probably proof of her tenacity - not a fancy tale about her failure.

 

Reflection for action [rather than -in or -on action]  in its pre-emptive nature may be the best solution to breaking the bias. Not a quick fix, given the amount of homework needed to explore the alternatives, but certainly a route to shedding a light on the negative attitudes we are led by when we are not full of care. As we are called to think slow, rather than quick, let’s be willing to take a little time for the effort to appreciate the strength and knowledge in others with the sensitivity we owe them.

 

 

Bibliography

Agar, M. (1994). Language Shock: Understanding the Culture of Conversation. New York: Harper Collins.

Anderson, T. (2017). Telling the story of disability. Retrieved 11 10, 2018, from Washington state university libraries: https://research.wsulibs.wsu.edu/xmlui/handle/2376/12238

Berghs, M., Atkin, K., Graham, H., Hatton, C., & Thomas, C. (2017, 6 24). Public health, research and rights: the perspectives of deliberation panels with politically and socially active disabled people. Disability & Society, pp. 945-965.

Bryant, Watson, & Philo. (2011). Bad News for Disabled People: How the newspapers are reporting disability. University of Glasgow, Inclusion London. Glasgow: Strathclyde Centre for Disability Research and Glasgow Media Uni.

Burch, L. (2018). ‘You are a parasite on the productive classes: online disablist hate speech in austere time'. Disability and Society, 33(3), pp. 392-415.

Coleman, J., Brunell, A., & Hauge, I. (2014). Multiple Forms of Prejudice: How Gender and Disability Stereotypes Influence Judgments of Disabled Women and Men. Science+Business Media, 34, 177–189.

Crow, L. (2014, 8 28). Scroungers and Superhumans: Images of Disability from the Summer of 2012: A Visual Inquiry. Journal of visual culture, 13(2), pp. 168-181.

Deal, M. (2007). Aversive disablism: subtle prejudice toward disabled people. Disability & Society, 22(1).

Gladwell, M. (2008). Blink - The Power of Thinking Without Thinking. London: Penguin Books.

Hughes, B. (2015, Sept 11). 'Disabled people as counterfeit citizens: the politics of resentment past and present'. Disability and Society, 14.

Kahneman, D. (2011). Thinking, Fast and Slow. London: Penguin.

Shohamy, E. (2006). Language Policy: Hidden agendas and new approaches. Abingdon: Routledge.

 

 

 

Nelly in the room

In the last post, I distracted myself so much with a metaphor about elephants I thought I’d give it a fresh field here. So this is an attempt to give the pachyderms shape. It is a metaphor for ableism, not an analogy, I'm not talking about the animals here but prejudice and discrimination. 

 

It is a recurring infuriation that many do not recognise ableism, the bias, discrimination and injustice Disabled people face. It has shape, I think, as an unwanted and invisible guest wherever people gather. Ableism, the elephant in the room, is a spectre in most places – and on zoom. It’s a daily wrestle, therefore, having to explain that the elly really exists and that while it’s a materialised ele’ment conjured by language, its footprints leave traces in our hearts – if not in the custard.

elephant calf with mother

I feel a sense of responsibility to point it out, we need everyone to see it, because I want it to be ours - not mine. It hurts when people deny it, I can't wish it away. When they do see it, people often think it’s exceptional, not a common sighting. but so daily I feel crushed, by a sensitivity to what often seems invisible to others. I see its shape every day, in every group, in every space, on every street, in every town…  

The elephant is very much alive in the spaces I want to feel safe in, I recognise that while some also see it, few act as allies and ignore its footprints.  I’m frustrated that people can’t, or won’t, see how toxic it is to so many [1 in 10]. As it parades openly on floors and in corridors. It’s purple tusks threatening, prodding, belittling and inciting rage… I find I unwittingly react to its crushing size, feeling threatened by possibility of threat if not presence of harm. “Don’t react!” they say “it’s not here now!” 

 

The idea that we’re either elephant-ridden or elephant-free makes poor sense. I know that many are also crushed, herds of red, green, and pink tusks bristling behind every door. Still more in the sights of several at once, beware the jab of the purple/pink tusk my friends! Truth is if we are free of one, we’ll probably face another. None would be a luxury, not 3 but 2, a privilege! I'll see the tusk of classism, if you see that of ableism, and we'll share the fear of sexism. 

Too few may indeed experience a lifetime of elephant-free living, what a luxury that must be. As privilege though, the tension is acknowledging others, not by over-defining yours but pointing to the herd. Don't be the one putting huge energy into ignoring one, by avoiding it, dismissing its threat or sneering at the way you hear others speak about it. Not taking responsibility, lets bad practice slips off the hoof, difficult experience is denied – “no elephants here!”. From the mammoth to the calf, impact is reduced by acknowledgement. “I saw the purple tusk coming your way, take good care!” Because stepping around it will hurt less than walking into it. (besides the latter cannot jump! Fact) 

 

Most fear monsters where juniors pass, but grappled we feel by our own if not the herd that threatens others. Some may indeed be far more able to ignore the elephant, it would rather depend on whether it’s been thrown at you, charged passed you or sat on you. Again violence real, imagined or accidental makes you fearful. Small shocks, repeatedly, intentionally or occasionally, still add up. Whether red, blue or purple tusked, I’d imagine the weight is considerable, but two or three at once and the impact might be overwhelming.  Where to start with hierarchy, when cumulatively numbers equal pain. It’s not the elephant that is better or worse, but a well-aimed tusk or a multitude of stabbings.

 

Being aware of other people’s threats is challenging, when your own have you pinned to the ground. Tomes of misrepresentation adding to those creating their own comfort among the tangles of debris left by yellowed manuscripts in arcane fonts. Ways of living long left unquestioned, never cleared to reveal challenging legacies. Elephants of old, shed skins and leave footprints the size of chasms, the fear still fresh, even if the harm is now past. Stories of old, not a telling with hope. 

 

So with that I'll pack my trunk, and find my way to the circus ........

Ableism ?!

The word ‘ableism’ has gained much currency these past few years. I have noticed the hashtag increasingly being used by the disabled community across social media. Yet, it has no doubt remained a mystery to many. But for Disabled people, the activists among us, it has become hugely significant, as it represents a parity to sexism, classism, homophobia, racism, religious intolerance… words used daily to denote the organisational, institutional and structural injustice many individuals from marginalised groups face.

 

A working definition:

Without a definition, there is no way of identifying the characteristic discrimination imposed on disabled people. If we don't speak about ableism, it doesn't exist, because it is not something we give time to - or that we acknowledge. I work to two definitions based on what I’ve read:

Ableism: a specific type of oppression, akin to homophobia, racism, classism, ageism, and sexism, held in the culture and language that inform society’s debates.

Anti-ableist: a defined position against ableism, the characteristic oppression that disabled people face - as in feminist or anti-racist.  Theorising, for example, with an anti-ableist legitimacy involves explicit reference to disabled people as tellers in a storytelling that holds their interests at their heart.

 

I work as an anti-ableist, which means in seek in my practice, and my writing, to articulate an opposition to the ableism in the world around me. Notwithstanding the experience of individuals, and while allowing them choices of identity, I act to disrupt the institutional and societal narratives that perpetuate ableism. Disabled authors have gone to great efforts to define their experience, by doing so they encourage us to focus on the injustice they face.  Moving beyond issues of identity is critical, because while the predicament of impairment or difference and personal prejudice is significant, but it does not go far enough to explain the startling figures that characterise the inequality the disabled population face. Yet it is an inequality many cannot put a word to, despite its toxicity and omnipresence, the storytelling that surrounds us is ableist.

 

In the same way that critical race theory has given us a language to articulate the structural racism people face, critical disability theory has led to a growing terminology for the societal discrimination imposed on disabled people as a marginalised group. As a specific, insidiously hidden discrimination, ableism has a unique character. The idea that disability sits on a continuum at the opposite end to ability is to misunderstand the meaning of the marginalisation imposed on disabled individuals. If there is an opposite, it isn’t perfection, skill or ability, but a lack of privilege - the possibility of living without being viewed as a problem. It is the notion of ‘able’ as the norm that defines the unearned privilege afforded to those who do not need to answer questions about their difference. Beyond individual experience, ableism is held in conversations at group, department, organisational, local and national levels. Each holds a distinct way of silencing, or distorting, the voice of disabled people by denying their experience, domesticating their ideas, appropriating their knowledge or refusing to theorise by including divergent ideas.

 

It is not so much that people go out of their way to speak badly of disabled individuals, it is more so that we’ve become accustomed to believing the tales we hear about them. Therefore, disabled authors are less frequently referred to as trusted and truthful storytellers. More often found in specialist literature, their accounts are often absent from organisational, institutional and public debates. Furthermore, in the media, disabled people are often described as saints and sinners that laud or vilify their individual stories. It is in the globe-local storytelling that the voice of disabled people is erased. Furthermore, we’ve forgotten to question why. When written into guidance, policy and strategy, the assumptions derived from the saint/sinner stereotype become apparent, not as a caricature so much as forgotten altogether. That’s to say most will forget to think of disabled people as a sizeable population entitled to parity rather than the isolated individual needing to get off their backside – because the saints are doing it so valiantly. Ableism is not written into organisational accounts, however, documents such as audits, reviews, external communications, and annual reports generally fail to name the negative impact of the business on the disabled population. Thus textual worlds fail to articulate an opposition to the institutional disablism within a sector or the ableism in society more widely. Therefore, failing to acknowledge the contribution to human rights erosion imposed by growing inequality, and the lack of measures to gauge it, while attention is focused on what makes money.

A cycle of misrepresentation 

How does a gap in legitimacy grow between organisational accounts and the voice of D/deaf and Disabled People’s Organisations?  Why is there an absence of measures calculating prejudice, disablism and ableism? A lack of response-ability towards the disabled population. 

A vicious circle: 

 

As the diagram above illustrates, a cycle is perpetuated in conversations where the speaker reacts to what they have heard about disabled people [prejudice], rather than question the storytelling that misrepresents them. In the assumption that what the speaker has read or heard is correct, many will repeat largely exaggerated ideas, rather than stand against the ableism within the account. In society's storytelling, where the voices of disabled people are missing, their interests are often replaced by problems based on assumption -  rather than disabled people's experience or research evidence. In turn, these unchallenged beliefs left unquestioned drive negative attitudes. In this cycle, ableism often goes unnoticed, hidden in words, phrasing or sayings that seem innocuous but no doubt harm. This harm will be reacted to more or less subconsciously, with feelings and reactions in individuals who may also internalise ideas about themselves - the stereotypes. 

   

Often the gap between what we believe and what we think is so great, that it is hard to think ourselves out of a stereotypes by changing the words use or the actions we take.  

How do we interrupt this cycle?

Each arrow calls us to stop and think in order to change things in different ways.

 

Spot the stereotype: there’s no easy solution, foremost we need to be willing to learn from disabled individual's experience, knowledge and professional wisdom. That's disabled authors as storytellers: activists, professionals, academics, and D/deaf and Disabled People’s Organisations. Personal accounts will vary, and no disabled individual owes another a story. There are forests of information [books, websites, videos, podcasts…] take it steady. I suggest short introductory texts, preferably with a degree of rigour, based on evidence, because while unique perspectives can be made to fit a dominant narrative [ableist], getting the framing right alters the narrative.

 

Challenge assumption: Reflection isn’t easy, but time taken to think about immediate re-action, to determine why we act / think certain ways, may interrupt a bias we aren’t aware of.  The pervasive, often innocuous, nature of stereotypes in our conversations and across media, means there is lots to unlearn…. Literally unthinking the unthinkable is a job in itself. Disabled or not we owe it to those around us to figure out the lies and the myths that perpetuate negative ideas in storytelling. 

Consider the tellers: try to understand stories from an alternative perspective, placing disabled authors as the pen-holders. In most everyday conversation, the tales we tell, the unchallenged storytelling, erases the experience, knowledge and wisdom of disabled people. Sometimes in ways even they cannot put into words. The more you hear you’re rubbish, worthless, weak, wrong, pitiable… the more you believe it. The more you feel rejected, the more you fight or give up. No two disabled individuals will have the same feelings. [heavens, my feelings change every hour on the hour]. I’m always grateful when people interrupt my learned thinking. 

 

Understand communication: behaviour that confounds you may indeed be a challenge to be more empathetic. Are disabled people responsible for stereotypes, or have we led them to act in response to a single choice between saint or sinner?  No one can answer this without first trying to understand the internalised ableism may lead individuals to do things that mistily those around them. Hushing the voice that says you’re rubbish, work harder, prove ‘em wrong, show strength, hide vulnerability, is not only difficult but hugely exhausting. 

Be disability specific – anti-ablism 

D/deaf and Disabled People’s Organisations present an authentic source of the population’s interests in a way that unites a multitude of voices on a joint vision. Activism is a more complex notion than choice of identity and personal experience, as it draws on evidence and knowledge which can also subject to ableism. It certainly is a way of avoiding the problems often attributed to disabled people as a group. 

 

Human rights and movement interests: 

 

 

For professionals willing to address this matter, Disability Equality is a subject area based on disability studies that provides a good entry point. No doubt due to the barriers faced by disabled individuals, and the lack of recognition the Disabled people’s movement receives as an equivalent voice within civil rights groups. There were no words framing ableism until recently, akin to feminism, sexism, homophobia, or white privilege. Despite an era of rising social awareness, the institutional and societal injustice specific to disability had no name, no voice, and little more than a network of grassroot organisations with an oral history.

 

Bibliography

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Aspie, S. (2018, 8 2). Read ALLFIE campaigner Simone’s “barnstorming” speech to the Global Disability Summit. Retrieved 8 22, 2018, from The Allaince for Inclusive Education: https://www.allfie.org.uk/news/blog/read-allfie-campaigner-simones-barnstorming-speech-global-disability-summit/

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Brown, & Leigh. (2018). Ableism in academia: where are the disabled and ill academics? Disability & Society, 33(6), 985-989.

Deegan, C., & Unerman, J. (2011). Financial Accounting Theory: European Edition (UK Higher Education Business Accounting). MaidenHead: McGraw-Hill Education.

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Equality and Human Rights Commission. (April 2017). Being disabled in Britain - A journey less equal. Equality and Human Rights Commission. London: Equality and Human Rights Commission.

Fricker, M. (2007). Epistemic Injustice: Power and the Ethics of Knowing. Oxford: Oxford university press.

Goodley, D. (2014). Dis/ability Studies: Theorising disablism and ableism. London: Routlege.

Kumari Campbell, F. (2009). Contours of Ableism: The Production of Disability and Abledness. London: Palgrave Macmillan.

Kumari Campbell, F. (2019, 5). Precision ableism: a studies in ableism approach to developing histories of disability and abledment. The Journal of Theory and Practice, pp. 1-19.

McPhail, K., & Walters, D. (2009). Accounting & Business Ethics. Routledge.

Nind, M., Sheehy, K., & Simmons, K. (2003). Inclusive Education: Learners and Learnng Contexts. London: David Fulton.

Pease, B. (2013). Undoing Privilege, unearned advantage in a divided world. London, New York: Zed Books.

Slorach, R. (2016). A Very Capitalist Condition: A History and Politics of Disability [Kindle Edition]. London: Bookmarks.