Comment Writer Charlie Knight discusses the exclusion from narratives of parenthood and family life faced by many people with disabilities

Written by charliek
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Images by Kelly Sikkema

This month in the UK, from the 18th November to the 18th December, is disability history month, and one of the key themes that are being highlighted this year is that of sex and relationships. The graphic on the UK disability history month (UKDHM) website is deeply striking – it depicts an imposing grey building with the words ‘LONG STAY HOSPITAL’ displayed on the front, with a barrier made of xx’s separating the sides of the building marked ‘MEN’ and ‘WOMEN.’ In the foreground, signs with harsh red lettering carry slogans like ‘STERILISATION THIS WAY’ and ‘YOU WILL ALWAYS BE A CHILD.’ The message is clear – people with disabilities have been historically dehumanised, outcast, and confined far from the social customs and traditions of ‘normal’ life, and to a certain extent, this is still happening today. Stereotypes, mistaken assumptions, and general discomfort still surround the topic of disability, and ideas about how (and whether) disabled people ‘do’ sex and relationships are still firmly entrapped in this quagmire. This article aims to address some of the most common issues that crop up around this topic, but first I would like to point out that the experiences, attitudes, and abilities of people with disabilities cannot be generalised about when the term ‘disabled’ itself is completely inadequate to cover the sheer diversity of such a wide group of people. Disability is not one thing – therefore disabled sex and relationships cannot be characterised as such either. 

Disability is not one thing – therefore disabled sex and relationships cannot be characterised as such either

One of the key misconceptions I see everywhere about able-disabled partnerships specifically is the idea that the able partner must be some kind of ‘angel.’ Largely, this is rooted in the idea that people with disabilities are burdens before they are people – that in a society that bases value on productivity, people with disabilities are not valuable at all. Writing this now, I cannot help but think of a single exchange in Anne Carson’s version of ‘The Oresteia,’ that goes: ‘Pylades: I’ll take care of you. / Orestes: It’s rotten work. / Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.’ The fact is – sometimes, people with disabilities do need to be cared for, but so does everybody. No relationship can be exactly 50/50 all of the time, and trying to operate on a quid pro quo basis with someone only leads to resentment and anger. Partnerships are fundamentally about looking after each other, it is a built in buddy system, and everyone brings their own strengths and weaknesses to the table. When disabilities are involved, it can take a bit more planning and careful communication to make sure that everyone is getting what they need (and want) from the relationship, but at the end of the day, when built on a mutual understanding of generosity, disabled relationships are just as equal as able ones. 

No relationship can be exactly 50/50 all of the time

Of course most (but certainly not all) romantic relationships involve sex, and yet disabled people are usually excluded from this part of society. Whether due to pity, infantilisation, or discomfort, no one wants to talk about the topic of disabled sex, and this is fundamentally dehumanising. The fact is that disabled people have sex, so why is no one willing to talk about it? As the UKDHM website puts it: ‘So little was known about disabled people and sex and relationships a number of research projects were carried out in the 90’s and 00’s to build up a picture. Surprise surprise, disabled people in the main had sex lives as good or as bad as most people.’ Obviously, sex for people with some disabilities is going to look a little different – at least a part of the time – but here again is the issue with talking about disability as if it is one thing. The sex lives of disabled people are just as varied as the lives of disabled people, and giving in to the fear of talking about it is just going to dehumanise people with disabilities further. 

No one wants to talk about the topic of disabled sex

At least part of the fear surrounding disabled sex stems from the fear surrounding disabled parenthood – there is no doubt that being a disabled parent is difficult, and there are certainly anxieties held by many disabled potential parents. What happens when your child wants to be picked up and carried around if you cannot do that? If you are autistic and struggle with noise, going to parks or children’s birthday parties is going to be a gruelling and exhausting activity. How can a deaf parent hear their baby crying in the night? However, thanks to generations of disabled parents – and children of disabled parents – innovating and working around (and through) these issues, disabled parenthood is the easiest it has ever been. (Not to say that parenthood is ever easy, or that it could not be made easier). Specialised slings now exist to help disabled parents carry their babies, motorised pushchairs automatically detect when they are going up and down hills and adjust themselves to match the incline, baby monitors that flash and vibrate to wake deaf parents are now available. These, and so many other technologies, personal experiences, and helpful tips from past and present disabled parents can be found to make the journey just that little bit easier. 

Overall, disabled people have historically been excluded from conversations around sex, relationships, and parenthood. But, having a greater awareness of the real lives and experiences of disabled people shows that their lives are just as full, varied, and exciting as anyone else’s. 


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