You could be fooled into believing that it wasn’t, in fact, Disability Pride Month.
At a time when Disabled people more than ever need allyship, the silence has felt heavy. Disability Pride Month has been quiet, somehow that silence feels loud. Where are the posts? Where are the actions? Where is the support from those organisations who claim to be all-singing, all-dancing inclusive? Where is the recognition? This silence feels louder than ever; it feels more isolating than ever.
At a time when the rights and protections of Disabled people are under threat across the globe, we need allyship. We need visibility. We need Disabled people to be amplified, respected, and supported.
Look at what’s happening around the world: in Sudan, in Gaza, and beyond, Disabled people are facing violence, displacement, neglect, and death. We are living through unimaginable uncertainty. So where is the allyship? Where is the solidarity?
Even in countries like the UK and the US, once seen as leaders in Disability inclusion, we’re witnessing alarming changes. In the US, thousands of Disabled people are facing uncertainty around their medical insurance, potential rollbacks of the ADA, and other critical protections. In the UK, Disabled people are being hit hard by cuts to welfare, soaring living costs, and policies that undermine their dignity and survival.
This silence during Disability Pride Month isn’t just disappointing, it’s dangerous. We don’t need performative gestures. We need action. We need voices. We need real solidarity. Silence in moments like this isn’t neutral, it’s loud. And we feel it.
That message is being heard, read and shared.
Pride isn’t priding, but are we surprised?
No. But is it any better this way? Some Disabled people have believed Disability Pride Month was becoming a corporate tick-box, a community celebration stolen away on the corporate express. Is the overwhelming silence better?
Does it tell us who’s actually putting words into action? Is it telling us who was being performative all along? Is it better that we don’t have the same hollow words or performative inclusion being shared across social media, “we support Disabled people”? Is it better this way?
We don’t think so. Yes, so many organisations tick a box of inclusion, but some have been doing work to overturn an ableist, broken system that has been built and built on over the years. Those doing the work, those actually using Disability Pride Month as a time of action, commitment, and to increase visibility and amplify Disabled people.
Representation matters. Even talking about something puts it out there, it makes others think, it can stop people in their tracks. Of course, those who are being performative should be called in, of course they should be taking actions not just posting posts, they should be hiring Disabled people to support them. But when they are doing something, they are at least at a starting point. Even allyship can feel unnatural at the start. It’s not always natural to call out oppression or a system, or when someone says the wrong thing. But it does become more natural over time. The more we learn, the more we are closer to something.
Representation matters, actions matter, and authenticity matters. We want organisations to be authentic with their inclusion, with their representation, with how they recognise or celebrate Disability Pride Month. But Pride Month isn’t meant to be just about the corporate ladder or the corporate space. It is a time for Disabled people. It is a time for community.
You could be fooled into believing that it wasn’t, in fact, Disability Pride Month.
Disability Pride Month may have started in the US, recognised as a remembrance for the signing of the Americans with Disabilities Act in 1990, but since then that moment has shaped the global landscape, and today it is Disabled people from across the globe who are reclaiming this month, who are making it a grassroots movement.
But being Disabled, having pride in one’s identity, can feel like a difficult journey to navigate. We see others celebrating every aspect of who they are and wonder why we don’t always feel the same. Pride doesn’t have to mean loving the pain, or the tiredness, or the frustration, or the praying for a diagnosis, or the things we have to say no to. We are allowed to feel sad or unhappy about the experiences we have.
Pride to me means feeling proud in myself, in my journey with my Disability; feeling proud of the barriers I have broken down; feeling proud of who I am as a person, that my experiences have shaped me into the person I am today. Pride means something different to all of us, as a journey that grows over time. But at the bottom of it is pride in our community, our people, our beautiful diversity. – Celia
Pride to me means finding power in the trauma that I’ve experienced as a Disabled person, the trauma of past rejection, mental health challenges, and the shame I internalised for so long. Pride is knowing just where I was, and how far I have come. It’s shining a torch for those who come after, by sharing my experience, by speaking my truth and being unapologetically Disabled. – Jamie
Pride Month is not priding this year. It’s quiet. It’s silent. But the community are still showing up, as we have done time and time again. We show up. We uplift each other, we support each other, and we amplify each other.
We know what it means to be silenced, overlooked and forgotten. We know the need for visibility and representation. We know all too well what it means to be Disabled by society. We know all too well what it is like to be silenced.