When the late writer, comedian, and advocate Stella Young was fifteen, a member of her local community wanted to nominate her for a community achievement award. There was only one problem, according to her parents: she hadn’t actually achieved anything at the time. In fact, Young had a fairly simple life of going to school, working at her mother’s hair salon, and watching TV shows. “I wasn’t doing anything that could be considered an achievement if you took disability out of the equation,” she said in a 2014 TED talk. Many years later, when she was teaching a high school legal studies class, a student raised his hand and asked when she was going to give a motivational speech because the only time he had ever seen people in wheelchairs was when they had come to give inspirational talks.1
As disabled people, we are no strangers to the phrase “Wow, you’re disabled? That’s so inspiring.” Disabled people and our stories are used as “inspiration porn,” a term coined by Young to describe how disabled people are objectified by non-disabled people solely as a source of inspiration.2 (Some people have since replaced this phrase with “inspiration exploitation” or “inspiration sensationalism” so as not to portray sex workers in a negative way.) Such thinking is rooted in the harmful belief that disability is a bad thing and that by simply living with a disability or existing as a disabled person, we are exceptional.
“But isn’t being viewed as exceptional a good thing?” you might ask. “Isn’t being seen as an inspiration a compliment?” The fact is that when people see disabled people as inspirational simply because of our disability and for no other reason—like that community member who wanted to nominate Young for the award—it reduces the person’s entire identity to our disability. This type of misplaced admiration ignores the diverse experiences of disabled people, who are much more than our disability. It also objectifies and dehumanizes disabled people as symbols. When you tell disabled people that we’re “so inspiring” just for getting out of bed, checking the mail, going to the grocery store, or having a job, it suggests that you’re setting the bar lower for us.
Treating disabled people as your inspiration also perpetuates the problematic narrative that we exist merely to motivate or provide lessons to non-disabled people, which takes away our agency. It can even make disabled people feel that we need to constantly perform feats of inspiration in order to meet this exhausting social expectation. Another phrase in the community is the “super-crip” narrative, a term coined by sociologist Rebecca Chopp, referring to the expectation that disabled people must be extraordinary superheroes in order to be valued.3 In the super-crip narrative, disabled people are expected to excel all the time, and when we fail to meet such expectations, we’re seen as less worthy. So we find ourselves caught between a rock and a hard place: on one hand, we’re seen as tragedies just for existing, and performing any daily task makes us inspirational; on the other hand, we’re constantly expected to fit impossible superhero stereotypes.
Here’s the other thing: when people say that disabled people are “an inspiration” or “inspiring,” what they really mean is “I’m glad I’m not you” or “Thank goodness I don’t have your problems.” Essentially, they’re not truly appreciating disabled people for who we are or for our genuine accomplishments; instead, they’re relieved that they don’t share our experiences. Embedded in this thought is the assumption that disability is inherently bad and that non-disabled people “have it better.” This explains the many “inspirational” memes circulating on the internet, such as a picture of a child running with prosthetic legs under the words “Your excuses are invalid.”4 Imagine how a disabled person might feel when we see such memes: our existence is being used as a point of comparison and a motivational trigger to make non-disabled people feel better about themselves. It is reductive, inaccurate, invalidating, and hurtful. It also shames people who are not able to run due to their disability.
The fact is that disability is not exceptional, according to Young:
I have lived in this body a long time. I’m quite fond of it. It does the things that I need it to do, and I’ve learned to use it to the best of its capacity, just as you have [learned to do the same in your own body]. And that’s the thing about those kids in those pictures as well. They’re not doing anything out of the ordinary. They are just using their bodies to the best of their capacity.5
Another meme, “The only disability in life is a bad attitude,” is based on a quotation from Olympic skater Scott Hamilton6 and casually uses disability as a metaphor to inspire non-disabled people. It’s harmful for several reasons, including reducing the experience of living with a disability to a matter of attitude, blaming disabled people for our condition, and suggesting that a positive attitude can overcome any challenges. To this, Young says, “No amount of smiling at a flight of stairs has ever made it turn into a ramp.… Smiling at a television screen isn’t going to make closed captions appear for people who are Deaf. No amount of standing in the middle of a bookshop and radiating a positive attitude is going to turn all those books into braille.”7
Young’s point touches on an important detail: for all the talk about non-disabled people being inspired by disabled people, non-disabled people do not return the favor to prioritize accommodations that will combat ableism and support disabled people. While non-disabled people are being inspired, disabled people continue to live with barriers in a society that constantly places us at a disadvantage.
It is no surprise that the media helps to reinforce inspiration exploitation by highlighting stories of triumph, superheroes, inspiration, and goodwill. These public narratives feature either the accomplishments of disabled people (even if our accomplishment is just existing) or non-disabled saviorism, with non-disabled people doing a good deed for a disabled person that is elevated into a feel-good news story. In September 2023, Jon Hetherington, a longtime Beyoncé fan, took to TikTok to share that after twenty-five years of waiting, he had been forced to miss a Beyoncé concert because the flight he had booked had been unable to accommodate the size of his wheelchair by four inches. When fans heard his story, they rallied on social media to tag Beyoncé in their posts. Soon a member of Beyoncé’s team reached out to arrange a new flight. Hetherington attended the concert and even had an opportunity to meet Beyoncé and her mother.
This was a great moment of allyship from Beyoncé’s team and the Beyhive. However, once media outlets got wind of the story, they doubled down on the inspiration exploitation narrative by framing Beyoncé and her fans as the heroes instead of taking the opportunity to address the systemic ableism that had allowed this to occur in the first place. When this type of media coverage happens, the real issue—that air travel does not meet the accessibility needs of wheelchair users and those who use other mobility devices—is hidden under a sweet, innocuous, and heartwarming story meant only for non-disabled audiences. Here were some of the headlines: “Beyoncé & the ‘Beyhive’ Help Fan with Cerebral Palsy Attend Concert” (Today);8 “When He Missed a Beyoncé Concert, the Hive Went to Work” (New York Times);9 and “Beyoncé Fan in Wheelchair Will ‘Treasure’ Kind Words, Hugs from Singer After Long Odyssey to Attend Houston Gig” (Billboard).10 Hetherington’s own calls and advocacy to highlight the inaccessibility of airlines were largely buried in those articles under the main lede or sometimes not mentioned at all.
Media coverage written by disabled people looked very different. Lolo Spencer, actress, disability advocate, and founder of Live Solo, provided a more nuanced and accurate take by highlighting the systemic issues that caused the incident in the first place: “We are so happy that [Beyoncé] was able to make this moment happen for Jon and make it more than he ever expected. But we can’t help but think about the cause of the issue which is [the] CONSTANT inaccessibility of airlines. We hope that the outrage that supported Jon will reach ALL airlines and have them do better to make traveling with devices a possibility.”11
Words matter, especially in the media. When we paint non-disabled people as heroes for doing the bare minimum and erase systemic ableism from the story, we fail to address the root of the issue, which prevents change from happening.
Now, I do want to note that sometimes you can’t control what makes you feel inspired. What I encourage you to do if you feel inspired by something (such as one of those headlines) is to convert that feeling into self-reflection and action.13
Is your inspiration rooted in genuine admiration for the person or objectification of our disability? To distinguish between the two, reflect on whether you’re focusing on the whole person or primarily on our disability. Then, shift from simply being inspired to actively valuing our diverse experiences and contributions. You can do so by learning more about the historical contributions of disabled people in various fields or following disabled content creators. The more you learn, the better you’ll be able to acknowledge that a disabled individual’s worth extends beyond our disability.
Allyship, to me, is really about intimacy. It’s about getting to know all the different facets of a person. That’s why I’ve appreciated creating content on platforms like TikTok, because I use it as a video diary of sorts to highlight and document various parts of my life. I feature content around living with PTSD and navigating life with a paralyzed arm, but I also document parts of my daily life like the different experiences I’ve had since moving to Los Angeles. My followers don’t know me just because of my disability; they also see me for who I am (as much as I’m curating on social media, at least!). I’ve had followers tell me, “I started following you because of your disability advocacy content, but I stuck around because I liked your personality and you as a person.”
Next, convert your feelings of inspiration into actions you can take to either dismantle ableism and overcome barriers or make things more accessible. For example, when I was a keynote speaker at the 2023 Grace Hopper Celebration, the world’s largest gathering of women and non-binary people in technology organized by AnitaB.org, I received a message afterward from an audience member that said, “Your story was so empowering to me today! You have inspired me to build and design for accessibility.”14 Now, that is the kind of inspiration I can get behind. While inspiration exploitation creates disconnection and dehumanizes disabled people, this type of inspiration leads to empowerment because it motivates people to take action to work toward accessibility.
Disabled people are not here to be your inspiration. We’re real people, too, and we’re valuable and whole regardless of what we accomplish. If you do find our experiences and contributions inspiring, then get inspired to join us in our fight against ableism.