You can take the page, but not the voice:
You Can Take the Page, But You Can’t Take the Voice
There’s a reason I have more than one Facebook account, and it isn’t secrecy, dishonesty, or anything sinister. It’s survival.
Alt text:
Screenshot of a Facebook notification confirming an account has been reinstated. At the top is a green shield with a tick and the text “You’re back on Facebook. Your account is no longer suspended.” Below, a section titled “What this means” explains that Facebook reviewed the account and found it follows Community Standards on fraud and deception. The message ends with an apology for the suspension and states it was a precaution to help keep people on Facebook safe.
The attacks on my advocacy haven’t stopped. If anything, they’ve become more coordinated, more calculated, and more revealing of how broken our systems are when it comes to protecting disabled people and those who speak up for them.
My profiles are being falsely reported — not because I’ve breached policies, not because I’ve caused harm, but because some people would rather silence a voice than simply scroll past it. Jealousy, resentment, discomfort with disabled autonomy — call it what it is. This isn’t safeguarding. It’s punishment for visibility.
What’s particularly exhausting is the wilful ignorance of the wider impact. When my profiles are taken down, it doesn’t just affect me. It disrupts community pages. It fractures support networks. It pulls the rug out from under people who rely on those spaces to feel less alone. When you attack my profiles, you are attacking your own communities and sabotaging the very safe spaces you claim to care about.
If my content isn’t for you, there is a simple, humane option available: block me. Curate your space. Protect your peace. False reporting is not a boundary — it’s abuse.
As it stands, my 4.5k-strong profile has been temporarily removed pending appeal. It hurts, yes. It’s frustrating. But it isn’t the end. Advocacy doesn’t live inside an algorithm, and justice doesn’t require permission from a platform.
I’ll keep rebuilding because experience is knowledge, and knowledge is power. If I lose every profile I have, I’ll create new ones. I am not my accounts. I am my voice, my principles, and my refusal to disappear quietly for someone else’s comfort.
The hardest truth in all of this is that our systems still tend to protect abusers while making life harder for victims — especially disabled ones. That’s the landscape we’re navigating. That’s the fight we’re in.
So yes, pages can be removed. Profiles can be appealed. Accounts can be rebuilt.
But the voice?
That stays.
C’est la vie.
Sarah Wingfield
Independent Disability Advocate
#disabilityinclusion #strongertogether #disability #disabilityawareness #disabilitysupport #disabilityrights
Image 1 – Facebook appeal status screen
Alt text:
Screenshot of a Facebook notification screen stating: “Sarah, you submitted an appeal on 16 December 2025.” It says the account is not visible to people on Facebook and cannot be used while the appeal is under review. The screen explains that reviews usually take just over a day, that the account will be restored if it follows Community Standards, or permanently disabled if it does not.
Image 2 – Facebook account suspension notice
Alt text:
Screenshot of a Facebook suspension notice for the account “Sarah Wingfield.” The screen states the account has been suspended with 180 days left to appeal before permanent disablement. It explains the account is currently not visible and cannot be used. The reason given is that the account or its activity does not follow Facebook’s Community Standards on fraud and deception. Options to read more about the rule and how the decision was made are shown.
