My Blurred World

Elin looks out over the Vltava river in Prague on a sunny day. Her hair is styled into a curly half-up, half-down do with two small braids wrapping around her head to meet in the middle. She wears a white crop top which has wide straps, a beige broderie midi skirt and a white crossbody bag.

The two sides of representation

It’s a strange feeling, growing up with no representation of vision impaired people in the media, no authentic, positive representation, at least. When I was navigating my childhood and teens, there was an empty space where disabled people’s voices should be, one that swelled into a chasm with every year that passed by without improvement.  That gap has the power to coax you into the belief that you don’t belong or that you are alone in what you are experiencing.

When those spaces were filled, it was all too often with content that mirrored the stereotypes and negative attitudes I was coming across on a daily basis which prompted me to question if this was the treatment I should learn to accept as part and parcel of navigating life as a disabled person. 

Do you see what I mean when I say how powerful this lack of, or unauthentic representation can be? What I mean by unauthentic is the storylines and characters manipulated by non-disabled people’s stereotypes, the headlines claiming bravery or TV features soundtracked by sad songs.

Elin looks out over the Vltava river in Prague on a sunny day. Her hair is styled into a curly half-up, half-down do with two small braids wrapping around her head to meet in the middle. She wears a white crop top which has wide straps, a beige broderie midi skirt and a white crossbody bag.

For too long, disabled people’s stories and experiences have been moulded into content that is designed to tug on the heartstrings which turns us into objects of derision or pity or as ‘inspiration porn’ for wider society. 

Coverage of major events like the Paralympics is no exception to this with many who comment on the games seemingly too afraid to use the word ‘disabled’ and instead substituting it with words that reinforce ableism, I’m talking ‘differently abled’, ‘special’, ‘handicapped’, all of which are examples of negative language which embellishes a stereotype fuelled narrative.

That is the main issue here, the fact that the narrative all too often leans into non-disabled people’s expectations of disabled people with the stories that are told about us seldom being a true reflection of the lives we lead and the societal barriers we face.

With all that being said, I do think that representation of disabled people in the media is improving and I, for one, am glad that young disabled people today are seeing more of themselves on-screen. However, I’m equally concerned about how that inclusion is received.

Let me explain.

We’ve already established how powerful the media can be so I’ve always held the belief that, when representation is done right, it can be a great tool in terms of challenging stereotypes and perhaps even changing society’s view of disability. That was my hope at least when I heard that Strictly Come Dancing would have its first vision impaired contestant this year in the form of comedian, Chris McCausland and that he wouldn’t be the only disabled celebrity in the competition with Love Island star Tasha Ghouri also joining the line-up. 

Despite the slight improvement in the inclusion of disabled people in shows over the past few years, it has often felt a little performative, a tick-box exercise to meet some kind of diversity metric. Having more than one disabled person in a show is something I’ve long called for when sitting on diversity panels so I do hope that this isn’t a one-off.

The historic Charles Bridge crossing over the Vltava river. It has several large stone arches and statues on top. Small boats move along the river towards and away from the bridge and the sky is clear blue over head.

Chris’s appearance on Strictly felt particularly poignant to me as I know how much this representation would have meant to my younger self who didn’t necessarily understand that there were other vision impaired people out there. I might not have needed or desired to be inspired but I wanted to feel like I belonged and for that message to reach non-disabled people too. Chris himself has emphasised that he isn’t on the show to serve as inspiration but rather to challenge himself and show that we are here as disabled people.

As this year’s competition neared, I grasped a burgeoning grain of hope that this would showcase how, when you make adjustments, it puts disabled people on a level playing field but alas, my optimism was short-lived.

I should preface this ramble by saying that this is not a commentary on Chris himself but rather a wide lens view of what the inclusion of the show’s first vision impaired contestant has meant for the way in which the community is viewed and talked about. Completely my own take, of course. 

There I was, feeling hopeful that one of the UK’s most popular shows having its first VI contestant would present an opportunity to tackle some stereotypes and shift the narrative. Then came the judges feedback, tears and all, claiming that Chris dancing was the most ‘extraordinary’ thing they’d ever seen. Non-disabled people were quick to share similar sentiments on social media, a commentary which has continued with every week Chris remains in the competition. 

I’ve seen so many people encouraging each other to think about how difficult it would be for them to do something such as walking across a room if they close their eyes, an instruction that reduces vision impaired people’s experience to the standard of their stereotypes and fuels the narrative that doing anything as a VI person is near enough impossible. 

These observations, as I’m sure you can imagine, pulled me into a labyrinth of emotions and ignited a very specific conflict in my mind, one in which I find myself wishing we were represented more as disabled people and being so startled by the way the public talk about us when we are in the media.

Here, my friends, we have the two sides of representation.

On the one hand you have the all-important inclusion which is fantastic for disabled people to see, to change perceptions and recruit new allies. But, on the other, there is society’s reaction to that representation which, quite frankly, is still largely fuelled by stereotypes and outdated perceptions. 

Having navigated the majority of my life as a disabled person, I’m no stranger to the misconceptions that are out there and I’ve spent the best part of the last 10 years trying to tackle many of them, but the comments I’ve seen online over the past few weeks, particularly in relation to Strictly, have been a lasso, capturing my hope for change and pulling me back to realise the gravity of the outdated perceptions that still exist.

I always tended to believe that this kind of reaction was based on the way in which a story was told; if a portrayal of a disabled person was a puppet to the strings pulled by the stereotypes held by a non-disabled producer, director or scriptwriter, those preconceived ideas would be obvious in the depiction and would only serve to mirror rather than challenge wider society’s misconceptions. This is why disabled people need to have more control over the stories that are told about us. We need to be there in front of and behind the camera, in writers rooms and in directors chairs to make sure that our lived experience is presented in a way that is authentic and true. 

Part of that representation needs to capture disabled people’s everyday lives, our hobbies and interests and we deserve to be involved in storylines and conversations that don’t centre our impairments. We are experts in much more than our conditions, after all.

It gets a little more complicated when it comes to reality or competition based shows because people are not necessarily responding to how a story is told but rather their own assumptions about disabled people. 

Representation of disabled people presents a real opportunity for people to challenge their own preconceived ideas and, In some ways, I think they are but they’re doing so with the guidance of ableism because of how engrained it is in society.

I’m not here to tell people that they shouldn’t feel inspired by Chris’s dancing if their awe comes from a genuine place but I will leave a little plea here for the show’s audience to think a little differently about how they approach conversations about this year’s competition. 

Rather than questioning how on earth someone can dance and waltz across the floor as a vision impaired person, think about what adjustments are being made in that situation to enable this inclusion and consider how you can implement changes in your own lives and the spaces you frequent to make them more accessible and welcoming to disabled people.

I have seen examples of individuals showing real intrigue as a result of the representation of disabled people in the media with many being open to shifting their perceptions and ask genuine questions as a result. True, authentic representation presents an opportunity to educate and the media’s power to do this should never be underestimated.

 Amongst all the stereotype coded comments, I’ve seen a lot of people calling for content explaining how Diane has adapted her teaching style to make learning each dance an accessible experience for Chris. These requests are examples of how open people are to learning how adjustments can be made and I hope it’s something they consider in their own lives too. 

The conversation on representation isn’t exclusive to Strictly, of course, but it is what guided my thoughts in this post due to its currency. Despite how infuriating it can be to read and hear the ableist and stereotype-fuelled comments in response to the inclusion of disabled people in the media, it is an example of why we need more representation.

A wooden boat on the Vltava river, on the opposite bank there are several large historic buildings with a mix of domed and flat roofs. The buildings are surrounded by trees and greenery. The sky is clear and bright blue.

Stereotypes and misconceptions have been accepted so widely over the years because there has rarely been true representation to challenge them. The remedy, then, is to normalise the inclusion of disabled people. 

It is happening, slowly but surely; more news items are drawing attention to the barriers (although, there is still much to do in terms of changing the language), there are more disabled characters in shows, Netflix’ Sex Education is a brilliant example of disability representation that doesn’t centre a person’s impairment or health condition but does weave some of the societal barriers very naturally into the storyline, and there was a wheelchair-accessible Tardis in Doctor Who. Positive things like this are an example of how equality and inclusion can be achieved when reasonable adjustments are made.

This kind of representation should be a long-term commitment from the media in all its forms. We deserve the space to highlight our lived experience and the barriers we face, but we also need the opportunity to speak about our hobbies, interests and passions. Give us a voice and the noise has the power to send ripples in terms of changing perceptions.

Whilst I do feel conflicted about the two sides of representation, I do hope that championing disability inclusion can blur that divide and promotes the main message Strictly has presented this year; it takes two to tango so the solution is simple – make things accessible and inclusion and equality can become normality rather than novelty.


I’d love to hear what your take is on the representation of disabled people in the media, do you think it’s improving? Or what do you reckon needs to be done to achieve more authentic portrayal? If you have any recommendations of shows, features or articles with representation done well, please send them my way.

Elin x


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