It’s been a hell of a year for everyone. Record-breaking natural disasters have decimated entire cities, gun violence continues to plague our schools and public spaces with little-to-nothing done to stop it. Grocery and rent prices are high, wages are low, the U.S. war machine rages across the globe while we have no choice but to foot the bill, and yet another major election looms.
For disabled folks across the country, these issues and more have never been more amplified. The reality for our community is that disabled people are exhausted because we’re being left behind with no choice but to fight for our survival in a world that isn’t designed for it. We’re being forced to grieve because our friends and family are dying—deaths that are often avoidable. We’re still being misrepresented in the media, still without adequate access both in physical spaces and in the digital realm, and all the while our needs aren’t being heard. 2024 has proven, once again, that we as a community are being cast aside. But what those in power don’t realize is that while they ignore us, we’re organizing. We are making it known that we’re tired of being forgotten, and we’re ready to fight.
Right now in the final days of the election, we’re seeing politicians going about business as usual—touting plans for the country, states, and local communities that sound appealing but often lack substance and detail. That in itself is frustrating and disheartening, but disabled folks aren’t even seeing themselves in the conversation. We aren’t at the table in any way. Candidates aren’t including disabled people in decision-making processes when it comes to policy and campaign platforms. Disability orgs nationwide have approached campaigns to ask candidates about the issues facing our community, and are being met with lackluster responses; in many cases, no response at all. We are being neglected by those in power, even as we continue to raise our voices about what we need.
The disability community is not a monolith, but we are a legitimate voting bloc and one that demands to be taken seriously.
The recent devastating hurricanes across the South have shown us not just the horrific consequences of our inaction on climate change, but also that disabled folks are being boxed out of disaster preparedness measures and training. How can disabled people survive these storms if there’s no plan in place for how to save us? Saving ourselves only goes so far when there’s no consideration for our well-being in the plans that local and state governments make. Emergency resources are often inaccessible, leaving many out of reach of help that they desperately need. Disabled folks are two to four times more likely to die or be critically injured during a disaster—that in itself is a crisis, and one that we are being left alone to navigate.
Disabled people are also being forced into poverty at frightening rates. As the cost of living continues to increase across the board, the cost of survival for disabled folks is at an all-time high. People have to choose between full-time employment or government assistance for services they need to live; there is no middle ground here. Thousands of disabled people across the country are being paid subminimum wages, with hundreds of businesses allowed to do so thanks to the legality of 14c certificates. Over 700,000 people across the country are on waiting lists for in-home care Medicaid waivers that in many cases have left them with no choice but to live in nursing homes. All the while, states like Texas, which has over 300,000 people on its waiting list, boast budget surpluses in the tens of billions. Funding of these waivers are given the lowest priority, even while advocates beg lawmakers to do something. Anything.
For multiply marginalized disabled folks, like Black disabled people and trans disabled people, their lives are at greater risk due to law enforcement interactions and dangerous legislation than ever before. Fifty percent of those killed by law enforcement are disabled, and 55% of Black disabled men are likely to be arrested by 28 years old. The killing of Sonya Massey in July shows plainly, as do countless other examples, that Black disabled folks are not safe when interacting with police.
Legislation that targets the LGBTQ+ community has a significant impact on disabled folks as well, with the anti-trans legislation being introduced and enacted in states across the country leaving trans disabled folks at risk of not receiving care that they need. And we know that transgender people are more likely to be disabled than cisgender people.
And let’s not forget about one of the biggest threats to disabled autonomy that there is—voter suppression. Across the country, hundreds of anti-voter laws have been introduced and in many cases passed, which disproportionately affect disabled voters and prevent them from participating in Democracy. In Alabama, SB1 prohibited voters from receiving assistance with absentee ballots, which specifically targeted disabled Alabamians who rely on assistance from care workers to cast their vote in elections. SB1 is just one example of the over 400 anti-voter bills that have been introduced in recent years.
Where does this leave us today? Exhausted. But that doesn’t mean we’ve given up. The disability community is not a monolith, but we are a legitimate voting bloc and one that demands to be taken seriously. We are a powerful community of people with a shared identity that has empowered us like never before. The disability justice movement, which centers self-determination and emphasizes that ableism is a form of oppression that is linked to other forms experienced by the most marginalized among us, has grown exponentially in recent years. Activists across the country are fighting on behalf of all of us to be seen and heard. We’re working to shift the lens on disability—to be seen as more than just one thing. We’re running for office and assuming positions of leadership. We’re launching our own organizations, advocacy groups, media companies, and news publications because that’s what we need to do to make sure we’re being counted.
And so, in the last weeks of the election, if there’s one message the disability community has, it’s this: Don’t box us out. Don’t ignore us. Because we might be tired, but we’re here. We’re fed up. And we deserve the autonomy we’ve been fighting for day in and day out. We deserve to not just survive, but to thrive. And we’ll fight like hell, and vote like hell, until we get everything we deserve. 2024 be damned.
