PGP / SPD My story:

Don’t talk to me about “real strength”. People don’t see the struggles that happen behind the screens. The pain. The breakdowns. The tears. The days where simply existing takes everything you have. People might look at disabled people and think we’re weak, but some of us are the toughest people you will ever meet — because we endure. We adapt. We stick around. We keep going, even when our bodies are screaming at us to stop. Tonight, I’m in tears. Peter made me a coffee, I’ve got the TV on, I’m doing my pain management, and the sofa has basically been my home for the last fortnight. My hair is knotted up. I’m exhausted. I don’t know how much longer this pain flare is going to last. And this is the side people don’t always see. Chronic illness and disability don’t just affect the person living with them. They affect relationships, plans, routines, independence, confidence, intimacy — and the people who love us too. They affect all those tiny, everyday things able-bodied people can often ...

Disability Didn’t Become “Cool” — Disabled People Became Visible A recent Telegraph article titled “How having a disability became cool” describes young women with chronic illnesses and disabilities as “ sickfluencers ” and links rising diagnosis, social media visibility, SEND support and disability benefits with ideas around overdiagnosis, identity and economic inactivity. As someone who has advocated for disabled people for more than two decades, I find that framing deeply concerning. There are valid conversations to be had about online misinformation, people selling questionable health advice, undisclosed advertising and the risks of self-diagnosis. Those things should absolutely be challenged. But that is very different from casting suspicion over disabled people as a whole. Women with POTS, autism, ADHD, chronic pain, ME/CFS, EDS and other less-visible conditions are repeatedly positioned as though increased awareness and diagnosis may itself be evidence that something has gone w...

When Support Becomes Separation: Why Families Need Help Before Harm: Every time I read another story about a mother having her newborn removed, it breaks my heart. I am not naïve about safeguarding. I know there are situations where children genuinely need protection, and when a child is at immediate risk, intervention is necessary. But safeguarding should not mean automatically jumping to separation when support, assessment, rehabilitation and practical help could make a family safe. I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of systems that can be frightening, dismissive and deeply harmful when they get things wrong. I fought for my rights. I challenged decisions. I kept going. I did what I had to do. Reading about women who have not been so lucky absolutely destroys me. What especially troubles me is seeing somebody’s past used as though it permanently defines their future. A woman may have experienced trauma, addiction, mental ill-health, abuse, homelessness, exploitatio...

“Why don’t you just get paid work?” Ah yes… because apparently nobody facing disability, inaccessible workplaces or discrimination has ever thought of that one before. 🤣 This is exactly why I talk about systemic ableism. The assumption that someone who isn’t in conventional paid employment simply isn’t trying completely ignores the barriers disabled people can face when trying to access, remain in, or create sustainable work. I am trying to build paid work for myself. I create, advocate, support people, develop projects and work towards making what I do financially sustainable. The issue isn’t a lack of effort. It’s the confidence some people have in judging a life they haven’t taken five minutes to understand. Ask questions. Have a different perspective. Discuss difficult subjects. But assumptions aren’t facts — and “just get a job” isn’t a solution to systemic barriers. 💪🏻✨ #DisabilityAdvocacy #Ableism #SystemicAbleism #DisabledAndWorking #DisabilityAwareness #AccessibilityMatters...

 @osmanayshea | Ayshea Osman | Mike Davies  Book Review: What He Couldn’t Take by Ayshea Osman — 8/10 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ What He Couldn’t Take by Ayshea Osman is a raw, reflective and deeply personal memoir about survival, the patterns that shape us, and the long, complicated process of reclaiming yourself after domestic abuse. Domestic abuse is a cause very close to my heart, and as a survivor myself, I read this book with a level of understanding that went beyond simply reviewing the words on the page. There are parts of Ayshea’s story that will feel painfully familiar to people who have lived through controlling, frightening or damaging relationships: the gradual erosion of boundaries, the instinct to keep the peace, the hope that love and patience might somehow be enough, and the painful realisation that surviving can sometimes mean having to choose yourself. What gives this memoir strength is the way Ayshea looks beyond a single relationship and reflects on the patterns that began...

THIS ATTITUDE IS EXACTLY WHAT I AM TRYING TO CHANGE. There is a very important difference between disagreeing with somebody and making personal assumptions about their disability, finances, ability to work, relationship, motives and character. An alternative opinion is not bullying. Defending yourself is not bullying either. But repeatedly presenting assumptions as “facts” without actually checking whether they are true is not constructive discussion. The original issue here was disability, benefits and the harmful assumptions disabled people are routinely subjected to. Somehow that became speculation about my partner, my income, whether I “should” be working full-time, accusations of having an “agenda”, references to racism that were completely unrelated to the discussion, and judgement about how I spend my time. That is precisely the attitude I advocate against. Disabled people do not owe strangers a breakdown of their medical history, finances, capacity for employment or personal ci...