Advertisement
Among its other effects, discriminating against people with disabilities hurts their health and well-being
Are you familiar with the word “ableism”? If not, you’re not alone. Approximately 1.3 billion people around the world have a significant disability. That’s 16% of the global population. But few people know what ableism means and how it works. It’s ironic because most of us join the disability community at some point in our lives.
Advertisement
Cleveland Clinic is a non-profit academic medical center. Advertising on our site helps support our mission. We do not endorse non-Cleveland Clinic products or services. Policy
“I was unaware of ableism until it impacted me personally,” says Carolyn Deming, who works in communications and chaired an employee resource group for people with disabilities. “I have a disease that’s degenerative and unpredictable. It also affects my mobility. These challenges opened my eyes to the inequalities people with disabilities face every day.”
Marvin Natowicz, MD, PhD, is a physician who specializes in genetics and pathology. He’s also a caregiver for an adult child with a disability. He and Deming explain what ableism is, why it’s harmful and how you can help.
Ableism is the belief that bodies that don’t look or work the same as others are less important or less valuable. It also suggests that our abilities and appearance determine our social worth. That perception shapes every aspect of our lives because it makes it OK to discriminate against people with disabilities, as well as deprioritize their rights and needs.
Of course, all human bodies look different. And we all have different functional abilities. So, what counts as a disability is often arbitrary. The label tells us more about our culture than it does about the person it describes. Ditto for the emotional response many people have to seeing or talking about the topic.
Advertisement
Dr. Natowicz uses the example of mobility impairment to explain this concept: “Using a wheelchair can limit a person’s ability to be a part of day-to-day life. But it only limits you if there aren’t curb cuts, elevators and ramps. Using a wheelchair isn't disabling if we make those types of accommodations. In fact, the opposite is true. For many people using them, wheelchairs and mobility aids are enabling. They can symbolize freedom and independence.”
In other words, having a mobility impairment isn’t the problem. The problem is society not prioritizing accessibility for people with disabilities.
“The experience of ableism involves a lack of respect. Both for the person with the disability and for their families or caregivers,” he adds. Being anti-ableist starts with understanding disability as a social issue — not a medical problem.
Dr. Natowicz and Deming agree that ableism pops up in a lot of different ways, in a lot of different places, for a lot of different reasons.
In your history classes, you may have learned about the mass murder of people with disabilities during the Holocaust. Or the eugenics movement’s forcible sterilization of thousands of people with intellectual disabilities. But most discrimination is quieter than that. Oftentimes, it’s an honest mistake made out of ignorance.
You may have the best intentions when you speak loudly and slowly to a person using a wheelchair, for example. But if they haven’t told you they have cognitive or hearing issues, that behavior is ableist. That’s because you’re assuming their mobility issues impact their ability to communicate.
Other times, ableism takes the form of microaggressions or hostility. Mocking or bullying people with disabilities is obviously wrong. But many of us say and do ableist things without realizing it. Common examples include:
Using terms like “blind,” “dumb,” “schizophrenic,” “lame” or “spastic” as insults suggests having a disability is a bad thing or something to be ashamed of.
“Special” is acceptable in certain contexts, but it’s offensive when you use it to insult or mock somebody.
It’s no longer socially acceptable to call people with disabilities “handicapped,” “touched” or “challenged.” Some members of the disability pride movement have reclaimed slurs like “cripple.” But if you don’t have a disability, they’re not your words to use.
The “R-word” is a euphemism many use to get around the words “retard,” “retarded” and other slurs ending in “-tard.” We’ve spelled these words out here for educational purposes. But the R-word and all its variations are hate speech. It’s never OK to use those words to describe people.
Advertisement
You do not have a right to another person’s medical history.
“I’ve had strangers guess at my diagnosis, asking the question as if they had a right to know the answer,” Deming shares. “At the end of the day, it’s no one’s business.”
Ableist conflation is when you equate disability with pain and suffering. When nondisabled people say things like, “I’d rather be dead than disabled,” they’re assuming that people who have impairments can’t live happy, meaningful lives. In other words, their differences make their lives less valuable than yours.
Speaking to an adult with a disability like they’re a child is dehumanizing. So is speaking to their caregiver instead of them. It’s similarly patronizing to use phrases like “differently-abled” or “handi-capable.”
Exploitation entertainment is also known as “disability porn.” It refers to media that treat people with disabilities as curiosities. It may also describe them as inspiring or brave for doing ordinary activities.
Blaming people for their medical condition is ableist. So is stereotyping a person on the basis of their disability.
So far, we’ve focused on the ways ableism appears in our everyday lives. But it’s important to recognize that it’s also embedded in our politics, economy and culture.
Advertisement
Ableism is as much a legal and governmental issue as it is an interpersonal one. That’s because — like racism, sexism and other types of discrimination — it’s often reflected in our institutions. Take, for example, the following two U.S. policies:
Most U.S. citizens don’t realize these policies exist, even though they impact hundreds of thousands of people.
Of course, not all ableism happens at a policy level. Dr. Natowicz points to the lack of widespread accommodations for people with disabilities as another example of institutional ableism. These failures may be accidental. But people and organizations often violate disability rights laws on purpose, too.
Here are a few examples of intentional and unintentional discrimination around accommodations:
Advertisement
It’s sad but true: Ableism is also common in medical settings. It shows up in four main areas:
Providers rarely mean to treat patients with disabilities differently. Dr. Natowicz says one reason that it happens is that most medical schools offer minimal instruction on many important aspects of disability. For example, students rarely learn what ableism is or how to prevent it.
Their practical education is incomplete, too. Instructors tend not to focus on factors like adaptive exams or communicating with nonspeaking patients. The medical students who learn these skills often pick them up themselves.
The impact is clear. Only 40.7% of physicians polled in the 2021 study on provider prejudice felt “very confident” they could provide the same quality of care to patients with disabilities they give nondisabled patients.
Have you heard of internalization? It’s the idea that being steeped in prejudice day in and day out is corrosive. Over time — often without realizing it — you start to believe that your differences do make you less.
Internalized ableism is a big problem, too. Deming recounts her first-hand experience with it:
“I resisted using a mobility aid because I wanted to appear normal. I probably could have kept my mobility longer if I had used assistive devices sooner. Instead, I adjusted my life to be what I thought everyone expected me to be, at great expense to my own energy and function. The physical, mental and psychological impacts of internalized ableism are devastating.”
Ableism is like a self-fulfilling prophecy. When society devalues the lives and contributions of people with disabilities, it actually does make it harder to get by. The statistics tell the story:
The statistics are striking. And so are the physical and psychological impacts of ableism.
“Everyday tasks like cooking and cleaning are harder for me, but not impossible. I make decisions every moment of every day about how and where I spend my energy,” Deming explains. “When people question the validity of my struggles or decisions, or when I have to spend precious time and energy fighting to be seen as equal to someone without a disability, that has serious health ramifications.”
The physical, mental and emotional effort Deming puts into addressing ableism is a big investment, too. “It means I’m not doing other things,” she says. “When people or institutions are ableist, they take something from my life. I choose to help others through education and advocacy. But that choice has a personal cost. In a less ableist world, I wouldn’t have to make those choices and sacrifices.”
Being an ally to people with disabilities means proactively standing up for them. That way, they can devote less time to addressing injustice and more time to living their lives.
Now you know how pervasive and damaging ableism is. So, you may be wondering: What can I do about it? Deming says the motto, “If you see something, say something” is a great place to start.
Here are some tips to help you be an ally in the movement against ableism:
Like racism and sexism, ableism is a form of discrimination that labels and treats a group of people as less than. It does this by suggesting that human bodies can be either “normal” (good) or “abnormal” (bad). In reality, all bodies are different, and all people are worthy of respect.
Ableism is both a way of thinking and a systemic process. In other words, it’s a pattern of thinking and behavior that shapes our world — sometimes, literally. It’s enshrined in laws, present in popular culture, and shapes everything from our history and our healthcare to our own self-image.
You can be an ally by recognizing that it isn’t OK to define people by how their body looks or what it can do. Then, you need to act accordingly. That means educating yourself, practicing good disability etiquette, advocating for accessibility, and making sure people with disabilities have a place in every conversation and at every table.
Learn more about our editorial process.
Advertisement
If you’re torn between contradictory beliefs, questioning your decisions or feeling ashamed about your choices, you may be experiencing cognitive dissonance
Ground yourself in evidence, name your thoughts out loud and meet yourself in the middle to help defuse worst-case scenarios
Start by naming your emotions, centering your physical symptoms and identifying how your past impacts your present
‘Mind your manners’ by watching your language, challenging your assumptions and apologizing when you fall short
Some people tend to suck the energy out of social situations and leave you feeling emotionally drained
Role-playing, creating social opportunities and celebrating little wins can all help ease shyness
Masking is a way of hiding our full selves — and it can have big consequences, particularly when used habitually by people with autism
Feeling lonely may increase your risk of cardiovascular disease, depression and high blood pressure
Not all ear infections need antibiotics — cold and warm compresses and changing up your sleep position can help
A glass of lemon water in the morning can help with digestion and boost vitamin C levels, and may even help get you into a better routine