“The social model of disability is the understanding that disability is something that is created by society.”
I grew up in a communist and socialist country. In a country where everyone was equal. Unless you had disability. Or if the system considered you had learning disability. Then you stayed at home. Or you were put in a “special school”. Specials schools often had derogatory names, and everyone was put in the same class and followed the same programme. The pupils attending special schools rarely participated in activities other schools did. The special schools were never mentioned anywhere, only talked about in a joke or by parents explaining with a hushed voice: “Thats the mum of the boy that attends the special school…”, “that couple only has one son with a Down syndrome…”, “those are the kids with the blind mum…”.
There is a man in my town with muscular dystrophy. He has trouble walking. His nickname is Godzilla.
There is a girl in my village who has hearing impairment. She wears a hearing aid. She never knew her father. Her mum had trouble walking.
When I was younger, I was made believe that she couldn’t hear because her mum didn’t get married before having her and because she was made in a sin.
If the teacher in school thought there is something “wrong” with you, they sent you to the specialist and many times they suggested the move to the “special” school.
The first time I met someone with dyslexia was when I was 16.
In Fashion BTEC we had one boy amongst all the girls. He was the only one that failed the first year. He was gay.
When I moved to London to do my MA, tutors said that we should get tested for dyslexia and dyspraxia and if we have “it”, the college will give us a laptop and offer other support.
I’ve asked my daughter, she is 9, in year 4, if there is anyone different or is treated differently in her class in primary school, in Wood Green in London. She says yes and gives the name. I ask why? “Because they have a nut allergy, asthma and eczema.”
I try not to treat people differently based on their abilities or differences. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
But the truth is, I’m still part of the problem.
Am I really being inclusive?
I’m not doing enough to make everyone’s experience better.
Sure, I assess whether someone needs wheelchair access, lip-reading support, or translation apps. I empathise when I hear about someone’s bad experience.
But after a moment of sympathy, I move on. Because it isn’t my problem. And that, right there, is the problem.
I teach garment making in an MA Fashion programme.
We create clothes for non-disabled models, using traditional techniques, mostly sewing machines.
We are operating in a system built for able-bodied people—and letting a few disabled students adapt to it isn’t real inclusion. It’s accommodation at best.
True inclusion would require changing the system itself.
What could I be doing differently?
Instead of assuming what support disabled students might need, I could start by asking them:
How would you like to be supported?
What would improve your experience?
It’s easy to fall into assumptions—like thinking all hearing-impaired people rely on lip-reading—when, as artist Christine Sun Kim reminds us, not everyone does. She doesn’t lip read. Everyone’s needs are unique.
I could rethink how I plan workshops, lectures, and project briefs—by involving disabled people from the start.
I could encourage students to design beyond traditional standards: for different bodies, for different ways of dressing, for different ways of making—like shirts without buttons, non-traditional pattern cutting, or techniques that don’t rely on sewing machines. I could push for designing for all bodies, not just size-6 models.
I could reference and celebrate designers leading the way in inclusive fashion, like Sinéad O’Dwyer and Collina Strada and unfortunately not many more.
Writing this post fills me with anxiety: fear that I’ll say something wrong and that my view is too narrow. Maybe it is.
In 754 words, I haven’t even managed to consider intersectionality, considering disability through race, sexuality and/or gender.
But the only way to change is to start—by admitting what I don’t know and doing the work to learn and to do better.
Diversity is what makes life richer.
Representation isn’t just important—it’s everything.
References:
https://www.sense.org.uk/about-us/the-social-model-of-disability/ , The social model of disability, as accessed on 27th of April 2025
Sun Kim, C., Friends and Strangers, Art21, accessed on 27th of April 2025 at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2NpRaEDlLsI&t=604s
Crenshaw, K. Intersectionality, 1990. Accessed on 27 of April 2025 at https://moodle.arts.ac.uk/mod/folder/view.php?id=1386601
https://sineadodwyer.com/, accessed on 27th of April 2025
https://collinastrada.com/, accessed on 27th of April 2025
Photos taken from:
https://hypebae.com/2022/9/sinead-odwyer-london-fashion-week-spring-summer-2023-interview, accessed on 27th of April 2025
https://hypebae.com/2023/2/collina-strada-fall-winter-new-york-fashion-week-runway-info, accessed on 27th of April 2025
Even though I grew up in a very different context, I could see some resonances in the way disabilities were addressed while I was growing up. Maybe it is generational. There has been a lot of activism and fighting in order to change things. My students seem to be really on it. We received the degree show exhibition proposals last month and there were a lot of notes about wanting to make spaces wheelchair accessible, being careful about work that can produce anxiety, awareness of allergies to sculptural materials like latex. And it wasn’t for imaginary others but because of people in their communities. They grew up with disabled friends so they have an embodied and personal way to approach their needs. They are so much more inclusive and caring that I was at that age. It feels like as you said, maybe the main thing we can do is learn from them.
Hi Andrea. Apologies for posting your comment only now, but it went into my spam folder and I haven’t been notified about it.
The comment really made me think about my students and you are right, most of them are on it and are super inclusive. Thanks for pointing this out.
Hello Maja
A friend who is an academic, once gave me a piece of advice that stuck with me. He told me that, to start a piece of writing, you can start writing with your heart to capture your thoughts and feelings as they come. And that, the process of translating thoughts and feelings into words on paper, allows us to then take and analytical distance from those ideas and feelings, a distance which is needed to process them, to become critical, to make connections with other relevant ideas/readings, to understand what was learned and the implications of it.
I think you have done the first step here and captured your “heart” thoughts. Perhaps now, with a certain distance from this initial step, it could be interesting to revisit the text, ask what are the important points here that could be used as an illustration to show how different the context you grew up with is from the context of the people on the videos. I think there will be a lot of learning in it.