Written by Sophie Rose
Illustrated by April Yang
Being disabled is difficult — being a good disabled person is an art.
Most people won’t tell you how to execute this, but will let you know when you get it wrong. To make things easier, I have developed a clear set of rules. Should you follow them closely, you may be tolerated.
Rule 1 – Look Disabled. No, Not That Much!
You must look disabled. Strangers should feel comfortable enough asking why you’re sitting down on a busy tube, but you shouldn’t look so disabled that they feel uncomfortable looking at you. Sitting down on the underground is a privilege reserved for the visibly deserving. If you choose to sit, ensure your disability is legible to the carriage. Failure to do so may result in prolonged eye contact, sighing, or that distinctive London stare of disapproval.
Ideally, your disability should be immediately visible, but aesthetically neutral — nothing too alarming. If someone has to ask if you’re disabled, you’re doing it wrong. If they don’t know where to look, you’ve gone too far.
Invisible disabilities are strongly discouraged. If you insist on having one, be prepared to compensate by looking tired, apologetic, or faintly unwell at times (bonus points if you can limp for a little clarity). Alternatively, be prepared to get shouted at by an old woman. You must not fight back. You will lose.
Others must feel comfortable that you are disabled enough to deserve accommodations, but healthy enough that it’s not inconvenient. Failure to strike this balance may result in accusations of faking, unsolicited medical advice, or someone telling you about their fourth cousin twice removed just ‘pushing through it’.
Rule 2 – Be Inspirational … But Not Inconvenient
When managed correctly, disability can be a powerful source of motivation for others. Your existence as a disabled person should be a “perspective reset” for the able-bodied person, leaving them feeling better about their own life. Your suffering should come with a moral; your pain should be a lesson.
Your role is to provide hope, perspective, and motivation for the able stranger. Your existence should prompt someone to say: “If they can do it, what’s my excuse?” This means you should be overcoming something at all times. Pain is acceptable as long as it comes with a hopeful narrative. Rest is strongly advised against — this signals a lack of commitment.
When struggling to be a beacon of hope, do so quietly. Visible difficulty is only inspirational when it is resolved quickly. Needing help is acceptable, as long as it is temporary. Long-term limitations, recurring symptoms, systemic barriers — these dampen morale, avoid at all costs.
The key step here is gratitude. You should be grateful for accommodations, patience, and being allowed to exist in public spaces. Expressing this gratitude reassures others that they are good people. Anger, on the other hand, is not inspirational.
Criticism of access, healthcare, or policy should be avoided. It’s too complicated, too inconvenient. Inspiration works best when it is easy to consume. Ideally, your story should fit into a LinkedIn post. If your experience can’t be summarised as a “mindset”, you’ve gone too far.
Rule 3 – Suffer Quietly — We Don’t Want to Hear About It!
Your pain is okay, as long as it stays theoretical. Your suffering should be discreet. Asking for help is a big no-no. If one needs a break, needs to slow down, or exists in the wrong place, you must use the reflexive, pre-emptive “sorry” to ensure that people know you mean no inconvenience. Even when it’s not your fault, you should apologise — in fact, especially then.
Pain is a private failing. If it shows, it’s a character flaw. If it interrupts plans, you’re being awkward. Failure to hide such pain, anger, or fatigue will all see the same responses. “Everyone’s tired”, “Just push through like everyone else”. Pain is therefore only acceptable if it can be handled alone.
Public displays of pain and fatigue should be avoided at all times. Tears and anger signal manipulation and hostility, making a neutral affect the safest course of action. Even when explaining your pain, you should maintain a flat, calm, reassuring tone. Pain and crisis should wait politely to be displayed outside of business hours. Your body should malfunction on your own time, so please schedule your suffering responsibly.
Rule 4 – Tell People You’re Disabled. Wait, No, We Didn’t Ask.
A stranger’s curiosity entitles them to an explanation. If someone is suspiciously looking at you, you must resolve such tensions immediately. Provide them with the details that will:
- Make them feel comfortable being in your presence;
- Prove that you are deserving of a disabled status;
- Help them understand why you are the way you are.
However, it is important to ensure the details of your condition remain palatable. Do not bore them with gross explanations, trauma, or bureaucracy. Medical facts should be sanitised and stripped of suffering. Any words or phrases that sound too serious must be adapted so as to not upset the stranger.
Treat access to accommodations as a courtroom — you must provide the jury of your ‘peers’ with evidence to justify your disabled status. Accessibility is granted conditionally. This makes your explanations important. Provide enough detail to prove that you are deserving, but not too much that it causes people to become uncomfortable.
Many people will pose their questions as “an attempt to understand” or because “you don’t look disabled”. This is because their curiosity is kindness, concern, or care. Resistance to answering such questions makes you look bad. You must answer to make them feel better, support their feelings. Silence will be interpreted as deception.
Congratulations!
No matter how carefully you perform, you will always either be too disabled, or not disabled enough.
Congratulations. You have done everything right.
