The Intersection of Identities

Digital illustration of a girl sitting on a grey-blue cloud. She has bob-lenght hair with bangs and is wearing a black top. On the left she is holding a disability pride flag and on the right a lesbian pride flag.

Just like any other group, many disabled and chronically ill people also identify as being a part of the queer community; actually, many more than you might expect. According to a survey by the HRC Foundation, 36% of queer people reported having a disability, compared to just 24% of heterosexual cisgender people.

Some say this connection is because of the journey of self-discovery and exploration many disabled people go through. Others highlight the experiences of disabled and neurodiverse people who may feel less pressure to conform to social norms, which can make it easier to embrace queer identities. On the other hand, queer individuals may experience higher rates of disability due to the trauma of discrimination, which can trigger both mental and physical health conditions.

Whatever the reasons may be, I think we should raise the question: if the overlap between these groups is so significant, why don’t we see this community represented and included more often?

When it comes to organizing Pride events, why is the inclusion of disabled people so often an afterthought, if thought about at all? Why are so many queer spaces still inaccessible? How can we collectively fight ableism and the stigmas that queer-disabled people face? Why is the experience of queer-disabled people still so invisible in a movement that is supposed to celebrate inclusivity?

For myself, my queer and disabled identities are deeply interconnected. They both embody the resilience it takes to exist in a body outside of the so-called norm. They both make me prone to discrimination but also allow me to find community and power to be myself.

Finding pride in my identity has allowed me to connect with others who share similar experiences and learn from their journeys. I’m learning to love my queer-disabled body as an act of rebellion and find beauty in being my sick, disabled self. I’ve met queer-disabled artists to whom accessibility is not an afterthought but an inspiration for the creative process itself and found deeper acceptance and sense of belonging than ever before.

These identities and the communities they bring are so important to me and have given me a lot. Although there is a lot of work still to be done to achieve inclusion for sick and disabled people in queer spaces, I’ve also genuinely felt incredibly welcomed at many Pride events and by many queer individuals from all kinds of backgrounds. These conversations are essential if we want to create more inclusive spaces for everyone. I hope that we will all start having them a lot more.

I wish everyone a bright and powerful Pride Month, as well as the strength to be yourself and to stand with the queer community! 


Muah x 

— Greta