For over ten years, Hannah Shewan Stevens could not bring herself to use the word 'disabled' to describe her own condition. Now 31, she has not only accepted the term but wears it with a sense of pride and defiance, a journey catalysed by public prejudice and a fight for basic medical care.
The Confrontation That Changed Everything
A simple interaction with a stranger crystallised the stigma she faced. "Why are you using that?" a person asked, pointing at her cane. When Hannah explained she was disabled and needed mobility support, the response was a scoff and a look of disgust before they walked away. This moment, she says, laid bare the deep-seated vitriol that can make accepting the label so difficult for many.
Hannah's life changed in the summer of 2008 when, at age 14, she contracted sepsis from a severe throat infection. This triggered the development of multiple chronic illnesses, including fibromyalgia, complex regional pain syndrome, joint hypermobility syndrome, and an autoimmune condition called localised scleroderma. Despite technically qualifying as disabled, she resisted the identity for more than a decade, burdened by shame and fear.
Challenging Stereotypes and Internalised Stigma
Her reluctance was shaped by a narrow, preconceived idea of disability. "I remember having this preconceived idea of what being disabled looked like: either you were a wheelchair user or someone who was hard of hearing and that was it," she recalls. This view was reinforced by those around her who insisted she was "sick, not disabled", framing disability as a fate worse than death. Some even claimed they would 'rather die' than live her life, leading Hannah to downplay her symptoms to appear 'normal'.
She also grappled with feeling she wasn't "disabled enough", worrying about taking attention from those deemed more 'worthy'. The turning point came during battles with a healthcare system that dismissed her as "just an overly sensitive woman" – a direct quote from a doctor. Fighting for fundamental medical care forced a shift in her perspective.
Embracing Identity in a Hostile World
Embracing the term 'disabled' became a tool for explaining her experience and advocating for access. This did not magically erase inequality. At work, a former employer questioned if she was "really disabled" and delayed installing reasonable adjustments like a standing desk and flexible hours. However, claiming her identity gave her the confidence to speak out against such treatment.
Now, Hannah is an active part of the disabled community, fighting for rights in a society she believes still uses disabled people as scapegoats. An estimated one in four UK adults has a disability, yet they face higher rates of poverty, unemployment, and educational disparities. Hostility is rising: in the year to March 2024, over 10,000 hate crime incidents against disabled people were recorded in England and Wales, with a conviction rate for violent offences of just 1%.
She expresses rage and confusion at the constant attacks and discrimination faced by her community, noting that disability is a marginalised group anyone can join at any time. "Why do so few non-disabled people care about how we’re treated? The ignorance is infuriating," she states.
On the International Day of Persons with Disabilities, observed annually on December 3rd, Hannah urges everyone to acknowledge the day. It is a chance to recognise differences, celebrate similarities, and work towards a truly inclusive world. Her disability and chronic illness have shaped who she is, and she now celebrates being part of a global community one billion strong that champions each other. Her final message is clear: "I won’t ever be silent."
