International Women's Day: Disabled women on writing their own rulebook

As a disabled woman living in New Zealand, I often feel like I’m sitting alone on an island with complete disconnection from International Women's Day. Everything from the themes, to not seeing myself represented, to witnessing the tick boxing and tokenability in marketing material has always fallen so flat for me.

I spent 13 years high-functioning in a fast-paced, stressful corporate environment (before it eventually destroyed my nervous system) and what I experienced even then was nothing more than surface-level stuff. Zero ongoing action. Zero meaningful change. Zero inclusion of the queer community. No true appreciation or reflection of what it felt like International Women's Day should be about. It felt like an exercise in hushing females and feminism rather than uplifting ladies and moving towards equality.

Living the crip life now, that disconnection has only widened to the point it feels like a vast ocean... were there other women out there on their own little rafts bobbing around that felt the same way I did? Were there people out there who could provide perspective for me to learn and grow… and possibly help me have some big epiphany and turn my world upside down? Were we able to reframe this as a community and claim it in a way that is uniquely our own? As 2025 is the year I lean fully into curiosity, it eventually got the better of me and after setting some realistic expectations, I reached out to a few friends in the community to chat, hear their thoughts, and share real-life experiences. 

Name: Meagan Kerr
Region: Tāmaki Makaurau, Auckland
Social media: @thisismeagankerr 

Ellen: Kia ora e hoa! To start with, can you tell us a wee bit about yourself for context?

Meagan: Kia ora! I’m a 40-year-old wahine Māori with AuDHD and lipoedema, which is a chronic disease that affects the fat and connective tissue in my body. I work as a social media specialist (and occasionally as a writer) and am heading back to study te Reo Māori this year as well (with the ADHD delusion that I can juggle all of this at once - hoping I’m not wrong!). In my spare time, I love gardening, cooking and spending time with my whānau (especially my mokopuna).

Ellen: What is your definition of disability? 

Meagan: A chronic (long-term) condition that affects someone’s everyday… it could be physical or mental (or both), and means that we don’t or can’t experience the world in the same way as most others.

Ellen: And what does International Women’s Day mean to you as a disabled woman in NZ? Does it feel like it includes us, or are we still waiting for our invite? 

Meagan: As a disabled woman and a wahine Māori, it feels like International Women’s Day is a tick box for many. Sometimes disabled women and women of colour are included because of optics, and then we have to jump through hoops the rest of the year. Let’s just say I’m pretty sceptical about it, especially the way some businesses use it as a marketing opportunity.

Ellen: Isn’t that the truth! We could use more authentic, consistent representation, especially in that marketing space. What would you say is one of the biggest challenges you face—and if you could tell people one thing to actually change, what would it be? 

Meagan: I would love people to consider how they can make the world more accessible for disabled people. Whether it be through the seating they provide, the environment/set up of events and spaces… or even how they show up on social media. There are so many considerations that I think should be a matter of course like providing accessible seating options, and video captioning, to help ensure that everyone is included and catered for.

Ellen: This is everything. Events, and new spaces - especially if you have to attend IRL - can be SO incredibly daunting, and you raise a really good point there. Next up, can you share a moment where you felt truly seen, valued, or empowered as a disabled woman? 

Meagan: I’m still very new to “owning” the title of being disabled, so I haven’t really experienced much of this, but going through the process of formal ADHD assessment and being told that yes I do have ADHD (and am also autistic which came as a bit of a surprise), and my experiences and struggles are real … that’s when I felt seen. Being able to name what was going on with my brain, and have someone else identify it for what it was. It made me feel seen, and so much less alone. It’s like I could take the mask off after wearing it for almost 40 years, and just be me.

Ellen: Yasss! I am so incredibly proud of you. The pattern of women especially, being diagnosed in their 30s is becoming a common theme… which is a double-edged sword. Yay for diagnosis, validation and treatment, but the system can clearly be doing better. Thinking about the wider world, do you feel like mainstream feminism makes space for disabled women? Or are we still out here writing our own rulebook? 

Meagan: It still really feels like disabled women are having to fight to even be considered for a seat at the table, and then having to fight to make sure the seat is an accessible one. 

Ellen: *laughs* When we make it to the table and take a seat - do you feel like disabled women get enough space there—whether that’s in media, workplaces, or leadership?

Meagan: I think that often, we are having to create that space for ourselves. It feels like a lot of people underestimate disabled wāhine because of our disabilities, and seem to assume that we don’t have anything/as much to contribute. Whether that is a conscious decision or not, I’m not sure.

Ellen: What’s an everyday accessibility struggle you come across that most people don’t even think about—but totally should? 

Meagan: Video captioning! Even when it’s “just” Instagram stories, I still see so many people (and businesses) not captioning their videos. This means that people who have hearing loss/challenges, people who struggle with audio processing, and so many others like parents who are up doing the middle of the night feeds or need to watch on silent because of the sensitivities of others around them - they’re missing out on the kōrero. I work in social media and am chronically online so this is something that I’m really aware of - especially as I struggle with audio processing and find certain sounds/pitches quite overwhelming myself.

Ellen: This is so relevant - I have an auditory processing disorder myself and struggle with this also. Sometimes we just don't have that capacity for additional executive function. Have you ever had to fight for accessibility or inclusion in a space that really should’ve already had it figured out?

Meagan: My ADHD and autism diagnosis has been a fairly recent thing, so it feels like I’ve spent most of my life fighting for accessibility but not being able to put a name to why I need it. In a previous job, I spent a lot of time creating resources and making internal staff information more accessible for other neurodivergent kaimahi, up until I started doing that it had never been a consideration that it might be required before. 

Ellen: What’s one piece of advice you’d give to young disabled women trying to navigate life in NZ who are possibly struggling with their identity or claiming that title for themselves? 

Meagan: This is something that I struggle with too, so I understand! Making sure I have people who inspire me and are unapologetically themselves both in my “real” life and my online space is important to me. Especially online - making sure I curate my digital space so that I’m following people who are like me (so I see myself represented) and people who are not like me (so that I am open to others experiences that might be different to mine) has been inspiring, informative and really crucial for my mental wellbeing.

Name: Katy Thomas
Region: Tāmaki Makaurau, Auckland
Social media: @iamkatythomas

Ellen: Kia ora Katy, thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to chat today. To start with, can you tell us a wee bit about yourself?

Katy: I am an advocate, trauma-informed yoga teacher, SSP Clinician, and solo Māmā to 2; 1 medically complex and the other is a mini-me; I have severe ADHD so we’re probably all as spicy as each other!  I’m 40 years old and I was diagnosed in my late 30’s.  Medication, therapy and a life-long devotion to yoga have been instrumental in navigating my path.  My hobbies include reading books, playing with my kids, time in te taio, meditation and baking.

Ellen: What’s your unique definition of disability?

Katy: I like the framework articulated in “Sick Women Theory” by Johanna Hevda; a social model of disability - one defined by the barriers to inclusion created by an inaccessible society in late-stage capitalism founded on Brahmanic caste apartheid and realised in existence as resistance.  My perspective is informed by a Te Ao Māori worldview that has always uplifted neurodiversity, and a diversity of leadership that celebrated disability and women.

Ellen: What does International Women’s Day mean to you as a disabled woman but also as a caregiver in NZ? Does it feel like it includes you, or are we all still waiting for our invite?

Katy: Great question! In yoga, we often speak to presuming inclusion rather than waiting for invitation but this approach ignores the frequently insurmountable barriers to access disabled women face. I say disabled women in particular because as a population, our symptoms are not yet adequately described and we are rarely diagnosed and provided support or service in a timely fashion. The DSMV still lacks diagnostic criteria to reflect gendered nuance for both Autism and ADHD, not to mention medical gaslighting is heavily weighted against disabled women to deny appropriate interventions.

Broadly, it feels like “success” for IWD is frequently determined on ableist and capitalist terms; if we were to reframe this year's campaign #accelerateaction and #supportthesupporters in the context of disability; this would be the year for the passing of robust Accessibility Legislation with enforceable standards and better resourcing for parent carers. Unfortunately, the government quietly removed the Accessibility Bill in August last year and disability funding cuts since March 18 have consistently reduced parent carers' capacity to resource themselves adequately placing them and their disabled children at increasing risk of suicidality and other harm.

Ellen: The care burden put on women is becoming a real issue to a functioning modern society with ripple effects through to the economy by systematically removing valuable persons from the workforce. Do you feel like disabled women get enough space at the table—whether that’s in media, workplaces, or leadership? Or are we still pulling up our own chairs?

Katy: Absolutely not, and I think most of that speaks to the lack of education about disability, what it is and how it impacts all of us, not solely disabled people. That education is needed from the ECE level up and media, workplaces and leadership also have a duty to facilitate those conversations.  Disability is omnipresent but the perceived invisibility is shrouded in lack of awareness - you don’t know what you don’t know. I had no idea I had ADHD until that lexicon permeated mainstream media.  In a post-pandemic climate where society is becoming more disabled, these conversations are vital to disseminating the true value of uplifting disability.

Ellen: Yes! Education would lead to an eventual shedding of that stereotype of previous generations and to be able to get on with our everyday lives and not be judged because our disability is not 100% “visible”. Speaking of; what’s an everyday accessibility struggle you come across that most people don’t even think about—but totally should?

Katy: Loved ones often get hurt feelings because I forget a thing or I’m moving/cleaning/typing/fidgeting when they want my undivided attention or I act on impulse without consulting first. I care deeply about everyone in my life and I can’t change the way my ADHD brain is wired. I’m not a little bit ADHD, I’m 8/9 on both counts. It’s not a lack of willpower or concern for the other that dictates my behaviour, I’m literally managing more inputs and a higher executive function load than the average human with significantly reduced capacity. I can’t pick and choose how or when my ADHD will show up, it’s part of what makes me who I am. Trust me, if I could remember/ sit still/ exercise impulse control, I would.

Ellen: Have you ever had to fight for accessibility or inclusion in a space that really should’ve already had it figured out? 

Katy: School! I was always painted the naughty kid, I spent a lot of time in detention for talking in class or being distracted and distracting to others. I was also class rep, sports captain, and a straight-A choir girl who loved competing in extension maths and science competitions and winning scholarships - all of which was generally overlooked because I wore the wrong coloured hair ties to school and talked in class.  I was considered a troublemaker for asking the school board for a Te Reo elective. Ironically, the very things that were considered “bad behaviour”; willingness to engage anyone in conversation and raise issues of equity and social justice with decision-makers have ended up being strengths in every profession. I wasn’t bad, I was bored and I needed complexity and creativity to focus. My poor mother. I don’t know how she got anything done continuously getting called in by the school. She has the patience of a saint.

Ellen: What’s one piece of advice you’d give to young disabled women trying to navigate life in NZ who are possibly struggling with their identity or claiming that title for themselves?

Katy: Find community. Way before you find a diagnosis or consider medication and explore therapy, you need to find your people. It was community that led me to seek a diagnosis for my son and that journey paved the way for me to define the neurodiversity in myself. I never would have been able to overcome imposter syndrome and medical gaslighting without a solid community with decades of lived experience to lean into. My community continues to be a resource for me and my whānau at every stage of our accessibility adventure and it is such a gift to be able to uplift and awhi those embarking upon their own exploration.

Ellen: To finish on something uplifting - who is a woman—disabled or not—who inspires you to keep showing up as your full, unapologetic self?

Katy: My Mum. My Nana. Probably both neurodivergent with even less compassion and understanding than I experience in 2025 and incredible examples of what wahine are capable of with loving kindness in their hearts.

Ellen: I love that so much. Thank you for sharing your insight and experiences Katy - you do amazing mahi for the community.

Name: Korrin Barrett
Region: Hawke’s Bay
Social media: korrin_lifeunlimited

Ellen: Hey Korrin! So glad we have found the time to chat. For starters can you tell us a bit about yourself?

Korrin: After surviving sepsis and becoming a quad amputee, I’ve built a life focused on resilience, leadership, gratitude and advocacy. I’m a keynote speaker, mentor, and resilience coach, passionate about empowering others, especially uniquely abled women, to step into their strength and own their stories.

Ellen: What’s your personal definition of disability?

Korrin: Disability isn’t a limitation; it’s a different way of moving through the world. To me, it’s not about what I can’t do, but about how I adapt, innovate, and thrive in spaces that weren’t always built with me in mind.

Ellen: What does International Women’s Day mean to you as a disabled woman in NZ? Does it feel like it includes you, or are we out here still waiting for our invite?

Korrin: International Women’s Day is about celebrating strength, resilience, and progress - but as a disabled woman, it sometimes feels like we’re still waiting for our invite to the party. We need to move beyond just acknowledging women’s achievements and start making sure all women, including uniquely abled women, have a seat at the table.

Ellen: I love that term - uniquely abled. What’s one of the biggest challenges you face—and if you could tell people one thing to actually change, what would it be?

Korrin: One of the biggest challenges is constantly having to prove that I belong, whether that’s on the speaking circuit, in leadership roles, or even just navigating daily life. If I could change one thing, it would be for people to stop underestimating us. Assume we are capable, instead of being surprised when we are.

Ellen: THIS. *claps* Can you share a moment in life where you felt truly seen, valued, or empowered as a disabled woman? 

Korrin: Stepping onto a stage to share my story, looking out at a room full of people, especially women, who feel inspired, empowered, or even just seen because of what I’ve shared. That’s when I feel the most valued. It’s not about being inspirational for existing, but about making a real, lasting impact.

Ellen: Getting to experience that often must be so valuable and impactful to you. Do you feel like mainstream feminism makes space for disabled women? 

Korrin: Mainstream feminism has come a long way… but disabled women are still writing our own rulebook. We’re often left out of the conversations around equity, leadership, and opportunity, as if somehow, our struggles don’t count. Feminism isn’t truly inclusive until all women, in all their diversity, are at the forefront of change.

Ellen: Inclusive representation does often get missed in mainstream feminism doesn’t it? That's an interesting observation. Do you feel like disabled women get enough space at the table—whether that’s in media, workplaces, or leadership? Or are we still pulling up our own chairs?

Korrin: Not yet! We’re still pulling up our own chairs, and sometimes even building the damn table ourselves. Whether it’s media, workplaces, or leadership, there’s still a gap in representation. We need more disabled women leading the conversations, not just being included as an afterthought.

Ellen: I’m SO tired of building tables. At times it can feel like a Lego set from Temu… not all the parts are there, someone is crying, and the instructions are in a foreign language. I’m glad I’m not alone there!  What’s an everyday accessibility struggle you come across that 90% of people don’t even think about—but totally should be?

Korrin: So many! But one that gets me every time is doors, literally. Heavy doors, doors that open in or out on accessible bathrooms, inaccessible handles, or even automatic doors that don’t actually open fast enough. It’s a basic thing most people never think about, but it can make or break accessibility for so many of us.

Ellen: Why do they make doors so heavy? Like who is trying to sneak their gains in here? Not us. Door handles drive me nuts too, especially on a high-pain fibromyalgia day. Which is a nice segway to; Have you ever had to fight for accessibility or inclusion in a space that really should’ve already had it figured out? What happened?

Korrin: Absolutely. I’ve been invited to speak at events in brand-new high-class venues that weren’t accessible, either the stage had no ramp, the lift was out of order, there was no stand for the microphone or no accessible bathroom. It’s 2025, and we’re still having to remind people that true inclusion means thinking about accessibility before we arrive, not scrambling to fix it after.

Ellen: *gasps* that's honestly shocking Korrin. Then what’s one piece of advice you’d give to young disabled women trying to navigate life in NZ who are possibly struggling with their identity or claiming that title for themselves?

Korrin: Own your story, claim your space, and don’t let anyone define your worth for you. You are not “less than” because of your disability, you bring a unique perspective, resilience, and strength that the world needs more of.

Making the space for these conversations to happen with inspiring wahine, and to share experiences, struggles, and perspectives, has been an empowering experience. Whilst I won’t be fully buying into International Women’s Day, knowing that I’m not sitting along with my big feelings is not only a huge source of comfort and wildly therapeutic, but I feel far more empowered and connected through community. I also hold a growing sense of hope that we are in fact able to claim this idea as International-Day-of-Women-living-with-disability and making it relatable in our own unique way.

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