In a stunning edition, British Vogue’s May issue is championing disability. Titled Reframing Fashion, the edition features 19 people with disability, including mobility aid-using cover stars Selma Blair, an actor with multiple sclerosis, and trans disability activist Aaron Rose Philip, who has cerebral palsy.
I too have cerebral palsy and have used a wheelchair now for almost two years. I’m not ashamed of it. In fact, I’m proud. I’ve given it a name (Stella) and eagerly introduce it to my friends and family. But there are some places Stella cannot go and some situations for which it’s not suited.
For those circumstances, I could use a walking frame. This has been suggested by family members and friends and my occupational therapist. I can see their reasoning, but while I embrace my wheelchair, I resist using a walking frame.
I’m not sure what lies at the heart of my reluctance. I could name the walking frame and decorate it to make it my own, just like I’ve done with Stella. I could attend a greater number of events and walk further without worrying about losing my balance. So why am I not grabbing this opportunity – quite literally – with both hands?
Maybe it’s because wheelchair users have become more visible in the media. Think George Robinson as Isaac in Sex Education, or Ali Stroker in Christmas Ever After. In contrast, the only people I’ve seen using walking frames in film or television are elderly. In these depictions, the use of a walking frame is portrayed as something to pity or lament.
I’ve done a lot of work on my internalised ableism over the last few years, but this mental block is a tough one to shift.
Recently, Hawkeye actor Jeremy Renner used mobility aids (a cane and a walking frame) at the premiere of his new show, and my mental block moved, just a little.
Renner was in a snowplough accident at the beginning of the year and is still recovering from his injuries. He has shared regular updates about his condition on social media, including his use of a mobility scooter to explore theme park Six Flags with his family.
Renner’s accident exemplifies the notion that we are all only temporarily non-disabled. Anyone could become part of the disability community at any point, either fleetingly, like Renner, or permanently. He joins the ranks of celebrities who have used mobility aids on the red carpet, including Christina Applegate and one of British Vogue’s current cover stars, Selma Blair.
I’ve found Renner’s embrace of mobility aids heartening and validating, though in a less ableist world I wouldn’t need validation to seek support for my disability. I’ve talked to my friends about Renner’s use of mobility aids at his premiere. I’ve raised it with my psychologist and my aunt and filled pages of my journal reflecting on it.
I haven’t resolved my internalised ableism – I likely never will – but both British Vogue and Renner increasing global visibility and awareness of mobility aids has given me a lot to consider.
Disability pride is an ongoing journey, and I’m committed to making progress. Ideally, media representation of disability and mobility aids will make progress too.
