For much of my life, I believed I was the one who needed to change.
I have spent decades trying to meet expectations that were never designed with disability in mind because I didn't know there was another explanation. Without understanding that I had cerebral palsy and autism, I assumed the difficulties I experienced were personal failings rather than the result of living in a world that wasn't built for someone like me.
Looking back, I realise the problem was never that I was different. The problem was that I didn't know I had a disability and no one helped me to understand why.
Disability isn't one experience. It can be physical, neurological, cognitive, sensory or invisible. Yet whatever form it takes, disabled people often face the same obstacle: assumptions made before questions are asked.
My experiences aren't unique.
We often expect people who are different to adapt rather than asking whether our expectations need to change. That tendency extends far beyond disability. Whenever we judge people before we understand them, we create barriers that needn't exist.
In an able-bodied world, disability doesn't always fit. Rather than adapting environments, systems and expectations to include disabled people, society frequently expects disabled people to adapt instead. That isn't just about physical accessibility. It also includes the mental, emotional and neurological differences that shape how we understand the world and how the world responds to us. When those differences aren't recognised or respected, they become barriers in themselves.
I have lived with that reality all my life.
Being misunderstood isn't simply about people getting things wrong. It's about living in a world where assumptions are made before questions are asked. People decide what you can do, what you need or what you understand without taking the time to listen, really listen.
For me, that misunderstanding came at a cost. Growing up without knowing I had cerebral palsy and autism meant I spent much of my early life trying to make sense of experiences I couldn't explain. I wasn't given the understanding that would have allowed me to advocate for myself, build confidence and develop the autonomy every child deserves. That understanding should never be replaced by other people's assumptions.
No child should grow up feeling different.
Today we know more about disability than ever before. We have the research, lived experience and evidence showing where disabled people face barriers and where society continues to fall short.
The knowledge is there. Yet the understanding is surprisingly absent.
That is because information alone doesn't change attitudes. People do.
Understanding begins when we recognise that people should not have to spend their lives adapting to environments and expectations that were never designed with them in mind. Inclusion isn't about asking people to fit in. It's about creating environments where difference is accommodated from the beginning, expected and respected.
That doesn't always require new legislation or sweeping reforms. Often, it begins with something much simpler: listening. Asking instead of assuming. Accepting that every person's experience is unique and that no one understands those experiences better than the person living them.
When disabled people say they feel misunderstood, they are not asking for sympathy. They are asking to be respected. They are asking to be believed and to be included in decisions that affect their own lives.
We often talk about helping people with a disability adapt to society, but perhaps we've been asking the wrong question all along.
Instead of asking how they can fit into an able-bodied world, we should be asking how society can become a place where difference is embraced rather than accommodated as an afterthought.
Disability has never been the problem. The problem is a society that still struggles to listen, to understand, to care and to adapt.
