Vile. Sub-human. Sickening.

Those are the ableist slurs used to describe me after I landed my first big television job in a Maltesers ad in 2016.

One light-hearted 30-second commercial had people on social media tagging me in hurtful memes and making fun of my disability – brittle bones disease, which is a rare genetic condition that means I’m of petite stature so I use a wheelchair full-time.

Having the opportunity to highlight incidents like these is why National Hate Crime Awareness Week is so important.

I always knew that I wanted a career in the spotlight. I guess it’s just in my DNA. In fact, I vividly remember being in my last year at primary school and sharing these ambitions.

I was sitting in the sports hall in my fluffy red and brown powerchair – with two pigtails and wearing oversized multi-coloured glasses that drowned my face (think Deirdre Barlow from Coronation Street) – when my support assistant at the time and a class teacher asked me what I would like to be when I was older.

Without hesitation, I proudly said: ‘After high school, I need to go to college then university and I want to either become a teacher or, if that doesn’t work out, an actress’. Perhaps I was manifesting but – lo and behold – that’s pretty much the path I took.

Little did I know that putting myself out there so publicly as a disabled woman with a voice and eagerness to help change the world for the better would put me in such a vulnerable position.

This decision has led me to experience some of the most awful hate and ableist abuse, which impacted my sense of self-worth and negatively affected my mental health. It’s not always so overt as the fallout from my Maltesers ad, either.

I feel it in everyday microaggressions, like when people tell me they feel sorry for me because I’m in a wheelchair. Or inspiration porn of things like a picture – mostly of a disabled kid doing something ‘unexpected’ – and the slogan: ‘If they can do it, what’s your excuse?’

But sometimes it can be more sinister. Just before the pandemic, I experienced sexual assault after somebody weaponised my wheelchair to forcibly sexually abuse me.

It was the most terrifying moment of my life because I felt so vulnerable and scared.

If you want to be a friend and ally to disabled folk you need to – first and foremost – educate yourself and those around you

Despite that, I didn’t report it. The reason being, I couldn’t envision having potentially ableist police officers in my home who – due to their own unconscious bias – might see disabled people as asexual or unattractive and therefore not susceptible to something as heinous as sexual assault.

I couldn’t face not being believed. My fears aren’t unfounded either. I’ve often had people assume I couldn’t have sex or be in a relationship, or that the only people who would find me attractive are those who want to fetishise me.

My own personal stories are just a drop in the ocean when it comes to disability hate crime. And, of course, you don’t have to be on television or an influencer in the public eye to experience this.

According to disability organisation, Scope, hate crime directed at our community can consist of: physical attacks – such as assault, damage to property or arson – attacks on assistance dogs, threat of attack – including offensive letters, abusive or obscene telephone calls, texts or intimidation – harassment, bullying and abuse at school, online or in the workplace.

New Research from non-profit support provider Dimensions has found that a fifth of the public have laughed at someone, called someone names or avoided talking to someone because of their learning disability or autism. Shockingly, 6% of UK adults admit to having physically hurt someone because of their learning disability or autism, which is the equivalent to 3.6million people.

You might not be part of that 6% stat but if you turn a blind eye, you are part of the problem.

I am often left saddened and frustrated by the sheer lack of outrage and action taken when it comes to disability hate. Do I want a witch hunt and my allies to become vigilantes? Absolutely not, as I believe hate just adds to more hate.

However, I will no longer stand for apathy. If you want to be a friend and ally to disabled folk you need to – first and foremost – educate yourself and those around you.

Are you using ableist terminology and slurs? Are you also holding your children accountable if you hear them using degrading terms? Do you even understand what ableism means and how it impacts the lives of disabled people?  

If the answer to that latter question is ‘no’, educate yourself on the history of ableism until you understand how deep-rooted some of these ideologies are.

I mean, it wasn’t too long ago that we were given the title of ‘untermensch’ (meaning sub-human) during the Third Reich and the systemic ableism surrounds our society like a toxic smog. Whether or not you can see it, it’s still there.

Above all, I want you to start to begin the tough work of uncovering your own hidden ableism biases. To do this, you need to first leave your ego at the door.

If a disabled person calls out ableism, please be respectful and understand that we are all learning and it is never too late to unlearn and relearn.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing [email protected]. 

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Having the opportunity to highlight incidents like these is why National Hate Crime Awareness Week is so important.