Language is complicated.<\/p>\n
Language relating to marginalized groups, doubly so. Using the wrong term can cause individual harm and perpetuate oppression on a larger scale.<\/p>\n
Much of our everyday language is casually ableist, and this translates to ableist language in novels, whether the novel features disabled characters or not. Sometimes, these words are intentionally included to make a point. Other times, the author uses them unthinkingly, perhaps not even aware that certain terms are ableist in the first place. Complicating the matter further is that there isn\u2019t a consensus about what\u2019s acceptable or harmful terminology: some people within the disabled community may despise a term that others proudly claim.<\/p>\n
With this article, we don\u2019t want to tell authors what to do. You need to determine what is right for your story, your characters, and your audience.<\/p>\n
To help you make an informed decision, though, we wanted to point out a few things to keep in mind, whether it\u2019s regarding straight-up ableist language or simply what terminology to use to refer to your disabled character.<\/p>\n
Please note that this article will include the uncensored use of many different kinds of ableist language and slurs, as well as example sentences they might be used in. Some of these may be unpleasant to read.<\/p>\n
\u201cWith a disability\u201d or \u201cdisabled\u201d?<\/em><\/p>\n One of the most common questions we get is about \u201cperson-first\u201d versus \u201cidentity-first\u201d language.<\/p>\n Person-first language is what you will often see in professional settings. It means saying \u201cperson with a disability,\u201d rather than \u201cdisabled person.\u201d This also applies to more specific conditions, such as \u201cgirl with autism\u201d or \u201cman with mental illness.\u201d<\/p>\n The thinking is that by putting the person first, people will focus on the person rather than defining them solely by their disability. This logic is sound and well-intentioned.<\/p>\n However, there is a large group of disabled people who actively prefer not to use person-first language. Instead, they opt for identity-first: disabled person, autistic girl, mentally ill man.<\/p>\n There are several reasons for this \u2014 enough to write a full article about! Here are short versions of some of these reasons. Some people might identify with only one of the following and vehemently disagree with others, while others may identify with multiple reasons or even all of them.<\/p>\n Often, caretakers and other professionals lean toward \u201cperson-first,\u201d and people in the disability community lean toward \u201cidentity-first.\u201d There may also be regional differences, for example between the US and the UK.<\/p>\n These are completely individual decisions. Each disabled person must decide for themselves what they prefer, and whether they even feel strongly enough to have a preference in the first place. It is never OK to tell a disabled person how they should self-describe.<\/p>\n In your writing, consider the story and what feels right for your characters in terms of how they identify, but be aware of the complicated in-group and out-group discussions surrounding disability labels. It\u2019s not straightforward or simple, so these decisions need to be made with care.<\/p>\n Abled vs. non-disabled<\/em><\/p>\n Much like with \u201cdisabled\u201d and \u201cwith a disability,\u201d there is no in-group consensus on how to refer to those without<\/em> disabilities. The two most commonly used terms are \u201cabled\u201d and \u201cnon-disabled.\u201d Again, there are many reasons individual disabled people might default to one or the other, and some people may not have any strong preference either way. In general, both are acceptable to use.<\/p>\n Disabled people as nouns<\/em><\/p>\n An autistic. An albino. An epileptic. The disabled.<\/p>\n This, again, comes down to highly individual preference. Some happily self-describe as such. Others despise the terms. From what we\u2019ve seen, the general consensus seems to be that they\u2019re less acceptable than other terms. They\u2019re fine to use as adjectives, but using them as a noun often feels incredibly objectifying. It takes the person out of the equation entirely and focuses solely on the disability.<\/p>\n As a rule, we would suggest avoiding them unless you\u2019re a member of these groups yourself.<\/p>\n Special needs and other euphemisms<\/em><\/p>\n People often go to great lengths to avoid the word \u201cdisabled\u201d \u2014 or when they do use the word, they might attempt to soften it. So, we hear about \u201cspecial needs,\u201d \u201cdifferently abled,\u201d or \u201chandicapable.\u201d We might also hear about a kid who \u201chappens to have cerebral palsy,\u201d as though it\u2019s incidental, even when disability is the topic at hand.<\/p>\n Much of this stems from the idea that disability is inherently negative. Carefully avoiding the word, or going to great lengths to phrase it as airily as possible, can reinforce that belief. There are<\/em> absolutely disabled people who do choose to identify with these sorts of terms, but it seems to be becoming less common. Disabled people often don\u2019t dance around the topic the same way non-disabled people might, and in our personal experiences, we\u2019ve found that euphemisms often seem to stem from the discomfort of non-disabled people more than anything else.<\/p>\n This covers phrases along these lines:<\/p>\n Again: this does not remotely mean that one should tell a disabled person how to label themselves. Self-identification trumps all.<\/p>\n Wheelchair-bound and other judgmental terms<\/em><\/p>\n Speaking of framing disability as negative, this often happens when people talk about specific conditions, as well.<\/p>\n Let\u2019s take the term \u201cwheelchair-bound,\u201d which is a common descriptor. Most wheelchair users we know despise this term. The term indicates that they\u2019re bound to their wheelchair, as though the wheelchair is a negative thing that takes away their freedom, when in fact wheelchairs are the very opposite: they allow free, independent movement. Wheelchair users depend on and frequently love <\/em>their wheelchairs. It becomes an integral part of their life and body.<\/p>\n (It\u2019s also important to note that there is a history of ableist abuse in the form of literally tying people to their wheelchairs. This has happened in both care facilities and in private homes. You can probably understand the problem of invoking abuse when talking about an assistive tool.)<\/p>\n Why frame wheelchairs as inherently negative? Even if an individual might experience it as such, isn\u2019t it better to use a completely neutral term \u2014 \u201cwheelchair user\u201d or \u201cuses a wheelchair\u201d \u2014 and not make that assumption for them?<\/p>\n While \u201cwheelchair-bound\u201d is the most familiar of these terms, it happens all over, with all kinds of conditions. Watch for these terms and others like them:<\/p>\n Instead, use neutral, straightforward terms \u2014 \u201cuses a wheelchair\u201d or \u201chas cerebral palsy\u201d \u2014 as much as possible.<\/p>\n Functioning labels<\/em><\/p>\n Functioning labels to describe the nature of someone\u2019s disability are very common. These include obvious terms like \u201chigh-functioning\u201d and \u201clow-functioning,\u201d but also terms like \u201cmild\u201d or \u201csevere.\u201d These terms are fine in some contexts. For example, describing pain levels as \u201csevere\u201d makes sense, as does someone describing their anxiety as \u201cmild.\u201d<\/p>\n In other contexts, the terms are more complicated. For conditions like autism, it\u2019s rarely as simple as simply dividing people into \u201chigh-functioning\u201d and \u201clow-functioning.\u201d Consider the following:<\/p>\n Instead of using functioning labels, consider what\u2019s necessary for the situation. Describe without judgment what someone is or is not capable of, and do so only when that information is relevant. Consider whether the distinction is important to what is being communicated. \u201cBarbara, who is autistic, wrote a book.\u201d Whether you put \u201chigh-functioning\u201d there is not terribly relevant to Barbara writing a book and doesn\u2019t actually add much information.<\/p>\n If it is<\/em> relevant, let it become clear through context or description. \u201cMarie went out to the movies with her friends and chatted in a wine bar until late.\u201d This means that Marie is probably good at coping with crowded environments and enjoys social activities. Note that we can\u2019t make assumptions about her social skills or how draining such a night might be for her.<\/p>\n \u201cMarie\u2019s aide helped her select her clothes and they planned the day\u2019s meals.\u201d In other words, Marie is probably not living independently. (Note that the idea of living \u201cindependently\u201d is also fraught with complications. All people \u2014 disabled and not \u2014 are dependent in many ways, but the help disabled people require is looked upon very differently than the help others require.)<\/p>\n To specifically describe someone\u2019s situation, you can use language like: \u201cDevon lives in a group home and relies on disability benefits for income. He has strong verbal skills, but misses social cues.\u201d It takes more words than \u201chigh-functioning\u201d and \u201clow-functioning,\u201d but it also conveys more \u2014 and more useful<\/em> \u2014 information. If the character\u2019s situation and skills are genuinely relevant, one might as well be specific and accurate.<\/p>\n The above is autism-specific because \u201clow-functioning\u201d and \u201chigh-functioning\u201d are commonly used when discussing autistic people, but a lot can be extrapolated to other conditions as well.<\/p>\n For instance, take \u201cmild\/severe\u201d and physically disabled people. Again, these terms tell you little about the actual disabled person, instead highlighting which skills, abilities, and needs society views favorably and unfavorably. A wheelchair user who requires assistance with daily activities like dressing, showering, and eating, for example, would likely be labeled \u201cseverely disabled,\u201d even if those activities take up only a small fraction of the person\u2019s day.<\/p>\n These terms can be dangerous past just being inherently vague. Functioning labels directly and massively impact disabled lives, from services offered in schools to government\/nonprofit funding. At the most extreme, functioning labels like \u201csevere\u201d have consistently been used in defense of ableist abuse and even murder. When parents forcibly sterilize their children or stunt their growth, they often bring up the \u201cseverity\u201d of the disability as justification, citing an inability to use the bathroom independently, reliance on a feeding tube, a lack of verbal communication, or any number of other \u201csevere\u201d effects. When a disabled person is murdered by a parent, spouse, or other caregiver, the same excuses are given \u2014 and they\u2019re often accepted by society and the courts as reasonable.<\/p>\n As we\u2019ve shown, though, \u201cseverity\u201d is a vague concept at best and relies on necessarily ableist assumptions of ability. Functioning labels also wholly erase disabled folks\u2019 right to self-determination. These terms attach \u201csevere\u201d or \u201cmild\u201d (and all their attendant connotations) to disabled people despite the actual and varied impacts their disabilities have on their lives. The fact that \u201csevere\u201d can then be used as an excuse to abuse and kill disabled people while \u201cmild\u201d can be used to dismiss and deny the right to accommodation and care \u2014 itself a form of abuse \u2014 is galling to say the least.<\/p>\n Finally, consider that a lot of functioning labels are simply a disguised way of saying, \u201cHow much of a burden is this person for their environment?\u201d or \u201cHow close to normal is this person?\u201d Those interpretations may sound harsh, but that\u2019s how a lot of disabled people have experienced it, and it becomes hard to interpret the terms as anything else after a while.<\/p>\n Adapting language use<\/em><\/p>\n A lot of people\u2019s first instinct is to adapt their language use to take disabled people\u2019s conditions into account. For example, an author might write that a character with one eye \u201cclosed her eye\u201d rather than using the plural; ditto a one-handed person \u201cwashing his hand.\u201d They might be careful not to use language like \u201cshe made a quick run to the store\u201d or \u201cwalked down the street\u201d when it comes to a wheelchair user, and might avoid having a blind character say \u201cI see\u201d or a deaf character say \u201cI heard about that!\u201d<\/p>\n As always, this is a subjective, personal preference, but we\u2019ve heard from many disabled people who find these changes unnecessary. Adapting language like that often feels clunky, and these are such common phrases that disabled people are likely to use them themselves.<\/p>\n Additionally, it can often feel Othering. Adapting language in this way seems to stem from a desire to avoid pointing out what the disabled person can\u2019t <\/em>do, because being reminded might be painful for them. The logic is understandable, but it operates on paternalistic assumptions of what\u2019s painful for disabled folks. Even if the intent is to normalize or respectfully acknowledge the disability, it often comes across as awkward at best and condescending at worst.<\/p>\n All of these phrases are inherently ableist. They\u2019re not all equally severe: some are microaggressions, while others are violent slurs. What they have in common is their problematic implications.<\/p>\n Some link mental illness to violence and unpredictability. (It’s important to recognize that some mental illnesses can<\/em> result in violent or unpredictable behavior, because erasing that fact only further stigmatizes those particular experiences of mental illness. But language that necessarily links mental illness to violence contributes to dangerous beliefs that often result in mentally ill people being victims of violence themselves.)<\/p>\n Some suggest mentally ill and developmentally disabled people should be dismissed and not taken seriously.<\/p>\n Some take existing conditions and appropriate them in a way that stereotypes the condition or turns it into a joke.<\/p>\n Some are outright slurs.<\/p>\n Maybe some of these phrases come as a surprise. Many people never pause to think that \u201clame\u201d might be hurtful for many physically disabled people to read, that \u201cbatshit\u201d is short for \u201cbatshit crazy\u201d or \u201cbatshit insane,\u201d that \u201cfucktard\u201d and \u201clibtard\u201d are derived from the word \u201cretard,\u201d or that many common insults, like \u201cmoron\u201d and \u201cidiot,\u201d are in fact outdated medical terminology referring to developmentally disabled people.<\/p>\n Much of our language \u2014 especially when negative \u2014 is linked to disability. Some of it has become so normalized that many disabled people might no longer care. We know many mentally ill people who aren\u2019t fussed about \u201ccrazy,\u201d for instance. However, we know just as many who are<\/em> bothered by it. Think about it: how often do people use that word simply to dismiss someone and their opinions? What does it imply? It suggests that someone is mentally ill and therefore unreliable, not worth listening to, or even outright dangerous.<\/p>\n Similarly, words like \u201cstupid\u201d and \u201cdumb\u201d are so normalized in our vocabulary that many don\u2019t link it to disability to begin with. For that reason, not everyone cares about the words. However, it\u2019s still important to realize their origins or implications. \u201cDumb,\u201d for example, means an inability to speak, which makes the connection to a lack of intelligence problematic. For that matter, insults regarding intelligence are inherently ableist by nature, implying that having low(er) intelligence is bad and shameful. (In fact, the entire concept of intelligence reinforces the idea of classifying people and worth based on arbitrary capabilities, which is often used in tremendously ableist ways \u2014 but that\u2019s difficult to go into in such a short space.)<\/p>\n Keep an eye out for words like the following, as well as related words and their derivatives:<\/p>\n Note that this is not an exhaustive list by any stretch of the imagination.<\/p>\n Also keep an eye out for neutral words appropriated in a different context, especially when this context is negative.<\/p>\n Many disabled people find this particular form of ableist language especially harmful because it targets specific disabilities, using the contemporary medically accepted terminology.<\/p>\n Often, terms related to disability are used in a metaphorical sense. Consider phrases like this:<\/p>\n Some disabled people don\u2019t mind the above terms at all and may use them themselves, while others have a significant problem with them. They may feel that it\u2019s tacky or even appropriative to use the disabled experience as a simple metaphorical tool, or point out that these phrases are often used in a disparaging or stereotypical way.<\/p>\n In other words, like many of the terms in this article, it\u2019s highly individual. However, we feel it\u2019s important to list so that authors are at least aware of how their words may be received, as some may wish to pause and consider whether alternative phrases exist.<\/p>\n Reclaiming slurs<\/em><\/p>\n As with many other marginalized groups, disabled people may reclaim slurs used against them \u2014 for instance, the way some physically disabled people claim \u201ccrip\u201d or \u201ccripple,\u201d or some mentally ill people call themselves \u201ccrazy.\u201d<\/p>\n Reclamation is complex and often fraught. It can be a source of immense empowerment for disabled people to reclaim violent language by redefining its context; at the same time, some people have such strong negative associations to certain slurs that even seeing them used in-group can be hurtful. If your character(s) choose to reclaim slurs, we suggest that you be aware of the real-world politics and nuances surrounding that choice and make sure the reclamation is clear within the text.<\/p>\n Internalized ableism<\/em><\/p>\n Disabled people are not immune to the ableist ideas society constantly espouses, and internalizing those ideas can lead to the use of terminology. This applies to all the common ways that non-disabled people use these words, but there are also situations where the situation is more nuanced and unique to disabled people.<\/p>\n For example, someone with an intellectual disability may have grown up hearing frequent insults regarding their intelligence, and may have internalized it and end up commonly disparaging themselves: \u201cI did it again. I\u2019m such an idiot<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n Another example: disabled people often have their abilities, trustworthiness, or worth doubted. In an effort to establish their value and become accepted by the non-disabled around them, they may attempt to distance themselves from other, less \u201cacceptable\u201d disabled people:<\/p>\n While the statements may be factually accurate, and it’s important to correct wrongful assumptions about what a certain disability entails, doing it in this manner perpetuates ableist oppression and throws other disabled people under the bus. It casts those other conditions as negative, and implies that whatever ableist behavior the person is experiencing would<\/em> be acceptable if it were aimed at someone who does have those other conditions.<\/p>\n Yes, it may be realistic for a teenage character \u2014 especially one with no contact with the disability community \u2014 to use outdated or euphemistic terminology, and to hold deeply harmful ideas about themselves or other disabled people. Word use often depends on someone\u2019s exposure to disability politics and communities. Many disabled people change how they refer to themselves and others as time goes by, and regret how deeply they internalized problematic ideas in the past.<\/p>\n However, replicating this in a novel without further examination can reinforce and further normalize those ideas. After all, this language and these beliefs are so common that most readers wouldn\u2019t stop to think about the deeper implications or problems. They may see a problematic phrase in the novel, shrug, and move on. Readers may even agree. It perpetuates the problem rather than offering alternative views that many disabled people wish they\u2019d been exposed to earlier.<\/p>\n We encourage authors who may want to use ableist language in their novel to make it clear why<\/em> and how<\/em> this language is being used. It\u2019s not always enough to simply show a disabled character using a slur; consider fully engaging the character\u2019s internalized ableism on the page.<\/p>\n For many disabled readers, seeing this sort of unexamined language use in a book \u2014 particularly one featuring disabled characters they may have been relating to \u2014 is a slap in the face.<\/p>\n While showing (internalized) ableism via the use of ableist language is a valid narrative choice in some circumstances, it\u2019s highly worth being conscious and intentional of how and when to use those words.<\/p>\n Intentional ableism<\/em><\/p>\n What about if an author intends<\/em> for a character to be clueless about disability, or even to be actively ableist?<\/p>\n There\u2019s certainly a case to be made for showing the realities of ableism in your story. As authors, we often want to reflect the world around us as accurately as possible, and our society \u2014 as we\u2019ve discussed throughout this piece \u2014 is<\/em> ableist.<\/p>\n However, if you decide to include ableist language (or any other form of ableism, for that matter), do so with intention and care. Consider the following: Who will benefit and who might be harmed from seeing ableism depicted? Are you critiquing ableist language in the text, and\/or will its inclusion perpetuate its use? What\u2019s the narrative purpose behind the inclusion \u2014 to motivate a non-disabled character; to further the disabled character\u2019s arc; as shorthand to indicate someone is a bad person; to incite a plot point? How will this scene fit into the broader context of disability representation; is it subverting or reinforcing common tropes? Are there disabled writers already tackling similar types of ableist oppression?<\/p>\n It\u2019s possible and important to realistically and respectfully depict ableism. Ableism is a definite part of the disabled experience and glossing over that could lead to a shallow portrayal of disability, or could even be a form of erasure.<\/p>\n At the same time, reading is often an escape. Consider what it means when disabled readers can\u2019t escape their oppression even in fiction. And if you do intentionally include ableism, consider not only how<\/em> best to do so, but also whether you\u2019re the best person to explore that particular facet of disability in the first place.<\/p>\n While this article focuses on ableist language, be aware that ableism is so much more than a list of words to avoid. Hopefully you can see that even the most basic of terminology questions have no simple answers, and the same is true of ableism in every arena. Authors can follow all the advice in this article to the letter and still end up with a dubious representation of disability based on their story or character choices.<\/p>\n Having said that, we wouldn\u2019t have written this article if we didn\u2019t believe in the importance of language and its use. Be true to your character\u2019s voice, yes, but also understand the many and varied effects of ableist language. Understand why<\/em> certain terms are ableist. There are often other words that are just as true to a character\u2019s voice, but that don\u2019t have the negative baggage. Consider the benefits of using these alternatives.<\/p>\n Writing a respectful portrayal of disability is about much more than the points raised here, but it\u2019s always worth looking over your manuscript to ensure all your language choices are intentional. It\u2019s simply due diligence to see whether you might have accidentally included language that can severely hurt your disabled readers and continue to marginalize an already vulnerable group.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" To help authors make informed decisions about what language to use, we talk about disability terminology \u2014 from outdated words and cringe-worthy phrases to straight-up ableist slurs, and everything in between. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":3782,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_generate-full-width-content":"","kt_blocks_editor_width":""},"categories":[57],"tags":[300],"genre":[],"age_category":[],"disability":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3779"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3779"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3779\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7019,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3779\/revisions\/7019"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3782"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3779"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3779"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3779"},{"taxonomy":"genre","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/genre?post=3779"},{"taxonomy":"age_category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/age_category?post=3779"},{"taxonomy":"disability","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/disability?post=3779"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}\n
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Ableist language: How does this show up in everyday use?<\/h5>\n
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Disability as metaphor<\/h5>\n
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Purposeful use of ableist terminology<\/h5>\n
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Conclusion<\/h5>\n