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How do we properly refer to someone who is in a wheelchair, who is blind, who has poor eyesight, who is deaf, who has poor hearing, who doesn’t speak, who has extreme difficulty understanding, who is often ill, who is always in pain, or who just seems strange or “off” in some way?
There seems to be no end to the debate about the right and wrong words and phrases to use in any discussion of disability and disability. The issue resists all attempts to reach a broad consensus. People with disabilities, their families and friends, their allies and casual acquaintances, and their adversaries cannot agree on language that strikes a balance between precision, clarity, realism, and positivity. Some of us repeatedly criticize language that we find outdated and offensive. Others look around in confusion, wondering when the ableist language we once learned to be progressive has suddenly become outdated or provocative.
Some people try to reshape the whole concept of disability with language, or redefine disability in some way to erase its existence. Some use language to unify the diverse disability community, while others strive to make specific and finer distinctions between different disabilities and communities. Some work hard to suppress the use of obviously offensive language, while others take pride in the old adage “sticks and stones.” Some want to use language to empower disabled people, while others prefer precision and linguistic elegance. A trusted group of activists and diversity consultants carefully teach us to say “disabled,” only to be told by later generations of disabled people that this belittles the experience and meaning of disability, and is in any case awkward and a little condescending.
Is there a way for everyone to understand disability language clearly, safely, and respectfully?
Of course, it’s impossible to please everyone. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t some guidelines that can help. Here are some tips to help sort through the different ways of thinking about disability terminology and ride the various waves of popularity and revision that disability terminology is passing through.
1. Recognize clearly offensive language and stop using or tolerating it.
For those with developmental or intellectual disabilities, we use idiot, stupid, fool, retarded… For those who are deaf, mute, or mute, we use deaf-mute… For those who are mentally ill or mentally handicapped, we use mad, freak, lunatic, insane… For those who are physically or simply disabled, we use cripple, shackled. These are all words that should never be used in conversation, and there would be little loss in communication if we stopped using them, except for historical or descriptive purposes (such as their use in this article). An interesting point to note is that nearly all of these derogatory and offensive words were once commonly accepted even in clinical descriptions of various disabilities. They were not considered insults at the time. However, those words have always carried with them the assumed prejudices of the time against the people those words represent. Thus, while “idiot” and “idiot” in the 19th and early 20th centuries were clinical terms to describe different “levels” of intellectual disability, the horribly derogatory and disgusting opinions of the intellectually handicapped have made those words insulting then, and especially today.
Arguments for banning or making certain words taboo inevitably lead to “what aboutisms,” where marginalized groups aim to “reclaim” offensive words for their own internal ends. In the disability world, this is most notably true of “criple” and “crip,” which disability activists and participants in disability culture still use to refer to themselves, often in an ironic or defiant way. It’s the kind of situation where something you can use for yourself if you’re part of the group, but becomes an insult when it comes out of someone else’s mouth. There are a dozen ways to intellectually analyze this and justify or criticize it, but for marginalized and oppressed people, it makes sense. People should be allowed to use the words that mean something to them. And other people need to recognize the limits of their power to police this practice.
2. Be factual, descriptive, and concise without being condescending, sentimental, or awkward.
One reason disability lingo remains controversial is because there is a largely unseen, yet very fundamental, clash in what people are trying to do with the words they choose and the phrases they craft to talk about disability. Broadly speaking, some people use disability lingo to uplift disabled people or somehow repair their image, while others aim for precision, brevity, and a more neutral tone. One approach encourages building some positive emotion and persuasiveness into disability lingo; the other is more sober, but aims for a more elegant and pleasant expression in speech and writing.
Words like “disabled,” physically or mentally “impaired,” “exceptional,” and “special needs” are generally well-intentioned, at least on the surface. But because they are clearly efforts to be kind, well-meaning, or positive and supportive, their impact on actual people with disabilities can be sentimental and condescending. They are also understandable but ultimately false efforts to promote equality that seek not to elevate people with disabilities but to deny the reality of disability as a meaningful concept or experience in some sense. As with other marginalized groups, we should know by now that refusing to acknowledge or talk about disability as a real experience does not make the lives of people with disabilities better.
The main alternative is to be factual and descriptive. We can name specific types of disabilities, such as cerebral palsy, Down syndrome, amputees, blindness, etc. Or we can use general terms such as disability or disabled, which at least try to encompass all kinds of physical, mental, cognitive, learning, and sensory disabilities. A strict interpretation of “disabled” will always sound negative. But because they are widely used as general terms to describe a common experience and social position, these terms come as close to value-neutral as possible, helping us achieve the much more achievable goals of accurate identification, equality, and basic respect. Disability and disabled work elegantly to succinctly describe the shared social identity of all people with disabilities of all kinds. This is the term to use when the barriers we all encounter, the social position we all share, and the ableism we all face are more important than a specific diagnosis.
I speak here of “personality first” and “identity first”—the use of “disabled” and “disabled.” This is a debate primarily within the disability community that is largely polarized and in transition. “Personality first” was supposed to emphasize personhood as opposed to grouping people together by their disability. It also reflects how some disabled people experience disability as merely an aspect of themselves, but as something that defines them. However, many disabled people increasingly feel that their disability is not an intruder or merely an inconvenient attribute, but something that is central to who they are. And in retrospect, it seems that the “personality first” language has been driven for our benefit, not by us, but primarily by non-disabled people. As I have said, the power to define how we talk about ourselves is crucial in determining which terms and language structures we should and should not use.
3. Respect the actual language preferences of people with disabilities.
The most important guideline regarding disability language is to use the language that each individual with a disability prefers. The reasons well-meaning people choose to believe are largely secondary to respecting how people with disabilities prefer to be spoken of and referred to.
Look at the words most frequently used by adults with disabilities. Some words, such as “special needs,” are popular in certain circles for certain purposes, but have little relevance to people with actual disabilities who are old enough to understand their own disabilities. Very few adults would call their own disabilities “special needs.” This might make you reconsider using this term with children and young people with disabilities.
Also take the time to learn about the choices that specific disability groups and cultures make for themselves. Sometimes disability groups make their own consensual choices, like Little People or Deaf with a capital “D” because they consider Deaf a culture defined by language, like French. Also read what disabled people have written. Notice the choices they make in their writing.
Finally, non-disabled people shouldn’t lecture disabled people about correct terminology. Few terms are more insulting than a non-disabled person patiently or proactively explaining to a disabled person why the way they talk about themselves is wrong.
The rules and connotations of disability language are constantly evolving. They don’t change or shift just to confuse able-bodied neurotics. They change as disabled people’s understanding of ourselves and our place in society changes, and as our aspirations change.
In the meantime, the best thing for all of us, disabled or not, is to follow these basic guidelines, listen to people with disabilities, and relax a little.