Disabled Doesn’t Mean Inclusive: A Hard Truth

In Columns, Just My Bellybutton, Opinion by Nathasha AlvarezLeave a Comment

Inclusion peace hands of different color skin

The Pedestal We Never Asked For—But Somehow Got

There is a quiet narrative that follows people with physical disabilities, and it sounds flattering at first. We are assumed to be more compassionate, more patient, more discerning. As if living with a disability refines your character into something inherently more evolved.

It’s a beautiful idea.

It’s also fiction.

Disability does not transform a person into a moral authority. It does not cleanse someone of bias or elevate their worldview. A person can be born with a disability, raised within it, shaped by it—and still carry the same prejudices that exist everywhere else. Racism, sexism, homophobia, elitism… none of these are erased by the presence of a disability.

We are not exempt from contradiction. We are a reflection of it.

The Inconvenient Question No One Wants to Ask

What has always fascinated me is the disconnect.

How does someone advocate for their own inclusion with such intensity, yet withhold that same consideration from others? How does a person insist on being seen in their full humanity while selectively denying that same recognition across lines of race, gender, or identity?

This is not a subtle inconsistency. It is structural.

And yet, it is rarely addressed within our own spaces.

Perhaps it is easier to confront external barriers than internal ones. Perhaps it feels justified to center one’s own marginalization while overlooking others. But justification does not resolve contradiction.

It simply masks it.

Upbringing, Experience, and the Architecture of Bias

Hardship does not exist in a vacuum, and neither do the beliefs that shape us.

Upbringing leaves an imprint. Cultural messaging leaves an imprint. The hierarchies we are taught—explicitly or implicitly—do not dissolve simply because we navigate the world with a disability. In many cases, they are carried forward unquestioned, reinforced by personal frustration or social isolation.

And then there is the quieter, more insidious layer: resentment rebranded as self-reliance.

No one helped me. I adapted. I endured. Why should anyone else receive what I did not?

It is a sentiment that sounds like strength but operates as limitation.

Because it does not dismantle inequity. It preserves it.

When Struggle Becomes a Justification Instead of a Catalyst

Struggle is often romanticized as a pathway to empathy, as though proximity to hardship naturally expands one’s capacity to understand others.

It can.

But it can also produce a narrowing of perspective so complete that one’s own experience becomes the standard against which all others are measured—and frequently dismissed.

At that point, struggle ceases to function as a catalyst for growth. It becomes a rationale for disengagement, even indifference.

And that shift is subtle enough to go unnoticed, yet powerful enough to shape behavior in lasting ways.

The Most Confounding Reality of All

What remains particularly difficult to reconcile is the number of individuals within the disability community—many of whom navigate significant, undeniable barriers—who openly support the erosion of the very protections that facilitated their access in the first place.

Not passively. Deliberately.

Accessibility laws, civil rights protections, structural accommodations—these were neither incidental nor inevitable. They were the result of sustained advocacy, legal pressure, and, at times, public resistance that had to be forced into accountability.

To support their dismantling is not merely a political position. It is a rejection of historical reality.

And it invites a question that cannot be avoided:

What, precisely, is expected to take their place?

Because barriers do not dissolve out of goodwill. They reassert themselves the moment accountability is removed.

The Performance of Independence and the Cost of Denial

There exists a particular performance of independence that is often mistaken for strength—the insistence that one does not need support, does not rely on systems, does not benefit from collective protections.

It is an appealing narrative.

It is also, in many cases, incomplete.

Independence, when defined in opposition to interdependence, becomes a kind of curated illusion. It overlooks the extent to which access is already scaffolded by policies, infrastructure, and advocacy that operate quietly in the background.

To dismiss those structures simply because they are not immediately visible is not a demonstration of autonomy.

It is a failure to recognize the conditions that make autonomy possible.

Inclusion as a Principle, Not a Preference

If inclusion is to hold any meaning, it cannot function as a selective practice.

It is not a gesture extended toward those who mirror our beliefs or experiences. Inclusion is not a conditional offering, dependent on comfort or agreement.

It is a principle. And principles, by definition, require consistency.

The moment inclusion becomes discretionary, it ceases to be inclusion at all. It becomes preference, shaped by bias and constrained by personal boundaries that remain unexamined.

The Replication of What We Claim to Resist

There is a particular irony in experiencing exclusion with such clarity, only to reproduce its logic in more subtle forms.

It may present differently. It may be framed differently. But its function remains unchanged. To exclude, to diminish, to deny legitimacy—these actions do not lose their impact simply because the person enacting them has also experienced marginalization.

If anything, the replication becomes more consequential, not less.

Final Thought

It is entirely possible to advocate for dignity while failing to extend it, just as it is possible to benefit from protections while simultaneously supporting their removal. Those contradictions don’t always announce themselves loudly; they settle in quietly, shaped by habit, upbringing, and a lack of reflection.

But they are there.

And if we are honest, that is where the real work begins. Not in demanding that the world understand us—because that fight is ongoing and necessary—but in examining whether we are upholding the same standard we expect from others.

Because inclusion, if it is to mean anything at all, cannot be conditional. It cannot expand when it serves us and contract when it doesn’t.

Otherwise, we are not challenging the system.

We are maintaining it, just from a different position.

If this piece spoke to you, challenged you, or even made you pause for a second… imagine what I share when I’m not holding back.

Thank You

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