What would the world look like if we were all disabled?

A friend recently told me he had doubts about the social model of disability. ‘Society could accommodate me to perfection’, he said, ‘and I’d still be suffering in this body’.

It’s something I’ve thought about too, when it comes to the two competing models of disability. The medical model views disability as located within an individual, via their medical diagnoses. At worst, this model pathologises disabled people as having something ‘wrong’ with us that would ideally be ‘fixed’ via medical intervention. The social model focuses instead on the structural factors that render people disabled. This model locates the problem within a society that does not accommodate the needs of disabled people, rather than within disabled people ourselves.

I have osteogenesis imperfecta, a connective tissue disorder that leads to broken bones, hypermobility, and chronic pain. Societal accommodations help me out, sometimes a lot, and I try to get them where I can. But at the end of the day, I’m going to break something, I’m going to be stuck on the sofa, and it’s going to hurt like hell. In that moment, lying staring at the ceiling, I doubt thinking about how society coulda woulda shoulda helped me out will provide much comfort.

There are ways around this medical-social binary, including alternatives like the biopsychosocial model, which views disability as an interaction between the constraints of our bodies and the ableist structures of society, with an intervening angle of how we draw on our personal psychological resources to cope with it all.

But I’m not ready to let the social model off the hook just yet. Maybe, I suggested to my friend, we’re just not asking enough of it. How might things look if we set up society to truly maximise our wellbeing? What if we supercharged the social model?

We had lots of fun thinking about this in relation to our own disabilities, so we invited some more friends to do the same. We asked these disabled friends to imagine, firstly, that everyone in the world had their disability, and secondly, that society was set up to accommodate the heck out of this disability, with no limits beyond their imagination. What would the world look like for them?

Here’s what we had to say.

Julia

Osteogenesis imperfecta

There would be so many beds in public places. Whenever we were out, in parks, shopping districts, and offices, Sleepyhead Chiropractic bed bases and mattresses would crowd our field of vision. When we just couldn’t take it anymore, we would stop in our tracks and sink into their firm plush embrace. No one would care whether we were vertical or horizontal – beds would be as socially accepted as chairs. Swimming pools too, as far as the eye can see. Free to the public, none of those stupid ladders to enter the lane, and they would all have hot spas.

We would still break bones because bodies, ugh, but workplaces would be set up so we could just click a button on an app and someone would temporarily take our place, while we rested at home til we were better. So much massaging going on too. Since we all have questionable gross motor skills, we wouldn’t be massaging each other – there would be robots to do the honours. As soon as we felt our upper back tensing up, we would call out ‘Roberto, I need you!’ and they would appear from round the bend, ready to stretch us right out.

Pearl

Dyspraxia

I hate packaging with a passion. I would sacrifice the social model of disability for a chip packet I could open and a water bottle that wasn’t as tight as the Bush v Gore 2000 race in Florida. Needlessly sealed things aside, I wish there was more emphasis on accepting and responding to dyspraxia. In my uncoordinated utopia, we would have free repairs for all breakable products and simple instruction manuals that clearly outline what can and can’t be done. There would be no social stigma around breaking things or finding things difficult; we’d just help each other, in the same way we help a non-native English speaker find the right word or do maths for our family members who are not number inclined. It’s not a personal failing to be unable to do things with tiny precision.

I also want to outlaw planned obsolescence! I’m going to be hitting all the buttons and dropping everything on the floor anyway, so get rid of things that are purposefully made to break. You’re not just making it harder for me and others who don’t star in The Incredible Hulk: Return of the Hairbrush, you’re also making it harder for everyone else. I would pay my entire annual income for a phone charger that doesn’t break every three months! P.S. I also want Roberto.

Willow and Kali

ME/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

In a world tailored to fit ME sufferers there would be no bright lights or music in shops (think candles and plush carpet!). Everyone would speak in a whisper and they would offer sugar-free snacks and electrolyte drinks instead of coffee and biscuits. A law would prevent the wearing of perfume or aftershave and the using of smelly cleaning products. School and work hours would be 9pm-midnight when we come alive (sort of) and most activities would happen online.

The public bed idea is spectacular, but these should be wheel-beds staffed by robots who take you where you need to go, preferably under a personal tent that blocks out light and noise. All public spaces would include air purifiers and anyone with the slightest sniffle would stay home or at least wear a mask and apologise profusely for putting us in danger of a four-week relapse.

There would be a $1000 fine for saying "I get tired sometimes too, you know". While we are in a dream world, doctors would know about ME, scientists researching it would be well funded and family members and friends would be deeply sympathetic and bring flowers.

Tim

Reynaud’s disease

All flooring would be heated. I can’t feel my feet for six months of the year due to Raynaud’s Disease (pronounced 'ray-nose' - it's French), ‘characterised by an exaggerated response of the blood vessels in the extremities, causing them to severely narrow and restrict blood flow when exposed to cold temperatures’.

Torture for me is going to a home, in winter, with a shoes-off policy (and tile flooring). Wearing socks just doesn’t cut it; I might as well be standing barefoot on icebergs. It starts in my toes, then it blooms through my feet, through my ankles and up my legs.

My hands, ears, and nose get it too. In winter I have to sleep in a fleece zipped up to my chin with the hood covering my ears, or I’ll wake up from the extreme discomfort. It clashes against the need for adequate ventilation and air flow, which is a nightmare for my partner.

If everyone had this condition, our shoes would be made of merino wool. They would be heated by pressing a button, and there’d be a ‘turbocharge’ option. With a pair of those, a halo force field of heat for my ears and nose, and a couple of hand warmers in my pockets, I might just be able to say au revoir, Raynaud’s.

Angela

ADHD

What even is time? ADHDers often experience it differently, with minutes feeling like hours, and hours feeling like minutes. In a perfect world, society would accept that time is an illusion and support us ADHDers to move through our lives without the guilt and shame of not meeting their unrealistic expectations.

Those 4 pm meetings? Nope! The 3-5 pm vortex would be normalised. Let's face it, nothing productive happens in the afternoon, so let's not fool ourselves into trying. The 9-5 workday would be out the window as well, because our schedules would be flexible and afternoon naps would be encouraged!

Those frequent pauses followed by an "umm" and an "ahh" and a "sorry, forgot what I was going to say"? They would be met with a patient pause, allowing us time to recollect the point of our (beautifully detailed) story emerging from amidst the million different thoughts gasping for air, uninterrupted.

Oh, and it would definitely be illegal for anyone to say "everybody's a little bit ADHD though". No time for that nonsense, not now, not... sorry, what was I saying?

It’s clear we’d be living in a vastly different world if society accommodated all our disabilities to the maximum degree. I doubt we’ll get to a point any time soon when society meets us right where we are at, or even halfway. But I still think it’s worthwhile to imagine what a supercharged social model world might look like for us, individually and together.

Maybe we can make some of these accommodations to some extent - ones we might not have thought of ourselves but that would make an enormous difference to others. And perhaps we can relax some of the limits we place on ourselves, when we discount potential accommodations because we imagine they are too much to ask.

Also, hey, dreaming is free. On that note, Roberto, can I get a massage over here?