No Reader Left Behind: Celebrating Diverse Reading Experiences

By: Brittany Evans

In Season One, episode eight, Giles from the Buffy the Vampire Slayer TV show once notes in an episode, “Books smell musty and-and-and rich. The knowledge gained from a computer is a… it, uh, it has no-no texture, no-no context. It’s-it’s there and then it’s gone. If it’s to last, then-then the getting of knowledge should be, uh, tangible. It should be, um, smelly.”

Giles and I used to have that in common. I was a die-hard fan of traditional books, with their intoxicating smell and the way they could be held and devoured. Once upon a time, I used to quip that reading was “a full body experience” or “a contact sport” for me. But, in 2020, when I forgot to add an audiobook I’d finished to my year-end book recap list, I finally realized that even though I often preached to others about inclusive reading, I was the one with a deep unconscious bias against audiobooks and knew that had to change.

A series of still images from one of the author’s college projects. The author sits behind a desk reading while the pile of books around her grows until they fill the frame.

I’ve always been disabled in ways that make reading challenging. My brain moved too fast for the words on the page, and everything blurred together. It took my parents years to realize that when I said my eyebrows hurt, I had severe headaches from straining to see the world through misshapen, deflated footballs passing as eyes.

I spent several formative years of my early life wearing an eye patch and coke-bottle glasses to treat a myriad of visual impairments. Glasses, the patch, and some advanced optometry magic got me to the point where I could not just see the world but fall in love with reading too.

It should go without saying that entering the public school system with an eye patch and a tendency to be “too much” even for teachers, was unforgiving on the best days. Books became a lifeline for me. From late-night under-the-covers reading by flashlight to running the Kid’s Department at one of the world’s largest bookstore chains in my hometown as an adult — books and their musty smell have been my constant. Reading saved me, but I know that the joy of reading is not easily accessible to everyone.

The author, age 4 or 5, wears a pink and white striped dress, unkempt pigtails, oversized glasses, and an eyepatch with a lion sticker over her left eye. She is holding a Barbie backpack and looks ready to fight the next person who calls her “Pirate Barbie.”

A diverse array of disabled people face significant barriers to accessing books, information, and literacy. Around 20% of the world’s population of women are disabled, and there are no current equivalent numbers for gender-expansive people with disabilities. Yet, global adult literacy rates for women with disabilities could be as low as 1%. [LINK] While our access needs differ across identity spectrums, our right to literacy and information does not.

Disability, gender, and other factors can compound challenges bookworms face in our lifelong quest for a good book. The World Intellectual Property Organization found that less than 10% of publications worldwide are available in accessible formats. [LINK] Aggregious, but many would argue that we have come a long way with the increasing prevalence of audio and e-books, but where are all the multi-sensory books, Braille anthologies, and Easy Read sections of bookstores?

The author stands next to her proud father while she wears a Clifford the Big Red Dog costume for an event while working one of her first dream jobs — Children’s Lead at Barnes and Noble in her hometown.

Of course, accessibility isn’t just about providing different formats; it’s about dismantling the stigma and barriers that have long kept disabled readers relegated to the margins.

The importance of meaningful, nuanced diverse representation, especially in children’s literature, has already been examined through a kaleidoscope of studies and think pieces and the consensus remains consistent. Representation matters. It has to matter at the intersection of gender and disability too. According to a study by the Cooperative Children’s Book Center in 2019, only 3.4% of children’s books have disabled main characters. [LINK]

Appalling statistics. Such a steep lack of disability representation isn’t surprising when you consider that a Diversity Baseline Survey conducted that same year found that 89% of people working in the publishing industry do not identify as disabled. [LINK] Representation must extend beyond the page, into the publishing industry, and ink into all areas where stories are being told.

We can’t just unlearn our biases and embrace the myriad of ways people consume information; we must assume control of our destinies, we must become the authors of our legacies.

Piles of books strewn across a photo studio in the aftermath of a video and photo shoot about the power and consequences of access to books.

At the end of the day, books and reading are about more than just words on a page. The change we need is not just limited to the shelves; it’s about embracing the different ways everyone can enjoy reading and the right to access information. By opening platforms of power to amplify the narratives our communities are already telling and making room for disabled people to be in charge of our own tales with the power to share our own stories, we can build a more inclusive literary world.

The author sits in a small library. She is wearing giant headphones and gesturing with her hand as she speaks into a microphone to record a story about a disabled trans activist, Bobbie Lea Bennett, for an Audible podcast.

As a disabled bookworm with my own set of limitations, I’ve had to change the way I read and confront deeply ingrained ableism. Now, I’m an avid Audible subscriber and cherish my local library’s app. Once a page-devouring shelf snob, now I’m deeply grateful for all the different ways I can enjoy reading.

So, dear reader, I invite you to join me on this journey of unlearning. We have to let go of our preconceived notions of what “counts” as reading and celebrate the diverse ways people read. Let’s close the book on an inaccessible literary landscape and work towards a world where everyone has access to and the power to share knowledge, stories, and the transformative power of books and embrace the freedom to write our own narratives.

I'm filled with gratitude and accomplishment as I celebrate my third year of devouring audiobooks. In the few years since working to reframe reading, I’ve had the opportunity to enjoy almost 300 books — a feat that would have seemed impossible just a short while ago. Embracing audiobooks has allowed me to continue enjoying reading and opened my world to diverse voices, ideas, and perspectives.

Here is a list of a few books I love but would have missed if I didn’t expand my definition of reading:

• Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall-Kimmerer
• A Snake Falls to Earth by Darcie Little Badger
• Being Heumann: An Unrepentant Memoir of a Disability Rights Activist
• What My Bones Know by Stephanie Foo
• She Come By It Natural: Dolly Parton and the Women Who Lived Her Songs by Sarah Smarsh
• Other Words for Home by Jasmine Warga

About the author:

Brittany J. Evans is an advocate, educator, and current Communications Manager for Women Enabled International.