Why I Don’t Want Things to go Back to “Normal”.
Disabled people don’t want to go back to pre-pandemic days.
[ID: A woman sits at her desk in her bedroom. She is on her phone. On her desk is her computer. Behind her is a keyboard, next to her is recording equipment. To the far right is her bed and on the walls are shelves filled with books.]
It’s been a crap year and for disabled people it’s been even worse.
We’ve seen our care disrupted, gone without medical appointments or check ups for far too long and seen our needs completely ignored. It’s been frustrating to see people flaunt the rules while we’re shut up indoors and at times absolutely heart-breaking when disabled were treated like we were disposable.
Although lockdown has been tough, there’s no doubting just how necessary it’s been.
By staying at home we have helped the infection rates fall and kept not only ourselves, but also others safe. The main reason we all stayed inside was to protect our most vulnerable. So you’ll maybe forgive disabled people for being a bit apprehensive these next couple of weeks as everyone else rushes to the nearest beer garden.
As we’re starting to see lockdown easing in the UK, with all non-essential shops and pubs with outdoor seating reopening here in England, there’s a lot of talk about “getting back to normal”. The reason I use quotation marks here is that I, along with many other people think it’s far to soon to be opening up again and in the rush people are playing into the illusion of normality as a safety net, and I get it, I do but it may also be putting us at risk.
However many disabled people aren’t in such a rush to return to life before the pandemic.
We already knew how inaccessible that world was to us, but the past year has shown us how easily accommodations can be made, so why should we have to go back being invisible and living in a world that shuts us out?
Despite the horror of the pandemic, there’s been some surprisingly good things to come from lockdown, especially as a disabled person and these are things that I don’t want to see disappear again when the world “goes back to normal”
One word — takeaway. Suddenly every single one of our favourite restaurants went online and we could have delicious takeaway whenever we wanted. For my birthday I had my favourite restaurant pizza from Pizza Punks in my PJs. Feel like a fancy coffee but don’t want to make one? Your local coffee shop is on that app. Want to treat yourself to super tasty Indian food every single Friday (I know it’s not just me) — do it.
The main thing I gained from being shut indoors for best part of a year was the time to really think.
It’s given me the space to become comfortable with my thoughts, instead of pushing negative thoughts out of my head I now acknowledge the annoying voice in my head but then tell it to give it a rest. Similarly I’ve become a lot more attuned to my instincts and going with my gut, because I trust myself more now.
While it may’ve been a bit of a kick in the teeth to disabled people to see how easily studying and working from home was made possible, we can’t deny how much it’s benefitted us too. As a freelance disabled journalist and writer I’ve been able to write for titles I never would have dreamed of. I’m seeing friends flourishing with staff writer jobs that they could never have done when we all used to be forced into offices.
I’ve been able to explore other sides of my work and disability activism through work I would never have been able to do in the pre-COVID world.
In the last year I’ve spoken on panels about access to journalism as a disabled journalist whilst tucked up in bed. I’ve interviewed some of my favourite actors. I’ve had meetings with editors I’ve admired and idolised for years whilst sat in my slippers.
The fact is that these opportunities could and should have always been made available, but our deep-rooted ableism in society only saw one model of productivity.
But working from home for a year has shown that we can work better when we’re given the freedom to work how we see best.
Before the pandemic, I used to think I was an extrovert, but it turns out I’m actually an introvert who likes spending time with her loved ones, an extroverted introvert if you will.
I like seeing people in small doses on my terms.
So one thing I actually quite enjoyed was having a lot of time to potter around my house to myself and not have to feel guilty about turning down invitations.
There’s a special kind of guilt that comes with disability and chronic illness where you worry that if you keep turning things down because of your illness you’ll eventually stop getting invited, so you go to everything despite how exhausted you are. It takes a long time to work out that the good people to keep around will never judge you when you have to cancel, but I still feel bad when I really wanted to go to something.
However, with zoom fatigue and seeing how many people we’re quick to squish faces together in selfies, I’ve lost a lot of that pressure to use every last bit of my energy on socialising.
If I’m genuinely shattered I don’t feel much guilt in saying “not tonight pals, but next time” and I know there will be a next time.
And though I haven’t seen many people, it brought me closer to friends and family through messages and allowed us to really be open and honest about our feelings and what we do and don’t want. I call my Nana every single morning whilst walking the dog, we’ve had some brutally honest conversations and spoken about things in ways we never have before. I had a good relationship with my Mam but we often bickered. Now we Facetime twice a week and share our feelings in ways we never had before.
More than anything, the pandemic has shown me how much we need to fight for the rights of disabled people, because nobody else will do it for us.
Whilst thousands of disabled people died (6 in 10 UK COVID deaths), the government made opening up the country again the main priority. My activism has been accelerated at lightning speed this year because it had to.
Disabled people were being left to die and people cared more about being able to go to the pub.
The pre-COVID “normal” world didn’t work for disabled people, it was inaccessible, ableist and wilfully and actively locked disabled people out in order to benefit non-disabled people.
Now we’re being given a chance to redefine “normal” and make it accessible to all. So please don’t force us to go back to how it was.
Rachel Charlton-Dailey is a freelance journalist, disabled activist and sausage dog mamma. Her bylines include Metro UK, Stylist, The independent and HuffPost. She is founder and editor of The Unwritten, a new publication for disabled people to tell their stories. You can follow her on Twitter.
