You have not gone 'nonverbal'.

The internet's Left and its insistence on ignoring disabled people.

At some point, the internet - its populous, even (or in fact especially) those among them who consider themselves to be right-on, progressive, ‘intersectional’, insert-your-own-buzz-word-here - decided, en masse, to appropriate language specifically about, and for, disabled people.

When Rosie Jones announced her documentary ‘Am I A R*tard?’ the same people I mentioned above collectively lost their shit. They were enraged that Jones had used this word in the title, horrified at her audacity, furiously fired off tweets to explain to her - Rosie Jones, disabled comedian - how wrong it was, how out of line she’d been. Most of the critique I saw came couched in assurances that these people were in a position of authority to speak on the topic since they themselves were disabled (as though Jones herself somehow wasn’t, or was less so). The disabilities in question were always things like MS, or (H)EDS, ambiguous claims of general ‘neurodivergence’. I found myself wondering how often these people found themselves facing anywhere near the level or particular flavour of ableism that Jones did, and why they felt that they were in a position to critique the title of her documentary, but not that she was in a position to include a slur levelled at her countless times, and what the thought process was in order to come to these conclusions.

Over on Instagram, the most popular and commonly seen ‘disability activism’ has a very specific set of focuses: invisible disability, ambulatory wheelchair users, accessibility at events or festivals, wearing masks. The content I see interacted with and shared the most often also includes sentiment along the lines of not talking over, or for, disabled people, a strong emphasis on dissuading the notion of actually being disabled by disability. Canva made infographics lambast non-mask wearers and those who don’t test for Covid, or attend large gatherings - often using language like eugenics, or genocide, drawing comparisons between HIV/AIDS and the corona virus.

At some point over the last few months, the internet machine created a brand new dichotomy (its favourite thing - so marketable, so perfectly identity-shaped!): ‘yapping’, and ‘going non-verbal’.

Everybody loved it. What a funny and silly term - ‘non-verbal.’ I smoke weed and go non-verbal. I hang out with friends and go non-verbal. My social battery runs out and I go non-verbal. I could say quiet, but I like non-verbal. Non-verbal. Non-verbal.

My brother Daniel is 34 years old in October. He can’t tell you that. My brother loves soft material tracksuits, not the shiny shell-suit kind. He can’t tell you that. My brother has a headache, a stomach ache, he’s been sick, he fell earlier and it hurts to put weight on his left knee. He can’t tell you that. My brother wants a Lucozade Sport and some chocolate digestive biscuits and to listen to Coldplay. He can’t tell you that.

Daniel can’t tell you he has three sisters, that he loves going bowling and to the cinema, that his favourite shop is CEX, he can’t tell you to please turn the music down or the heating up or ask where the toilet is.

Daniel is, among other things, profoundly autistic and is considered non-verbal. Not because it is quirky or he’s ‘yapped too much’ or because he’s a bit quiet today but’ll chat later when he feels like it, but because he is physically and cognitively unable to produce what we consider speech.

(The whole truth of my brother and his linguistic capabilities is vast and rich and beautiful, and could easily be its own essay. But that is for another day!)

All this is to say that non-verbal is not a synonym for quiet, it is not something you become, or transition into - it is the result of being disabled. It is part of disability.

Despite this though, I have not seen a single person pipe up and say ‘hey, this co-option of terminology for and about disabled people is being bastardised and used by non-disabled people and I don’t think that’s right!’ The low-need and low-level autistic content creators who hammer home #ActuallyAutistic while making TikToks stay silent. Lots of people who are otherwise considering themselves champions of disability activism stay silent as we not only appropriate, but make a mockery of disabled terminology en masse.

When the #FreeBritney movement took off, self proclaimed disability activists and those that claimed to care about Britney in general took to the internet to voice their disgust at conservatorships, some calling for them to be banned. Again, low- or no-need disabled people wrote extensively about how conservatorships are evil, and rob disabled people of their autonomy, that those who obtain conservatorships are abusing power.

It is absolutely no secret that disabled people are more at risk of abuse, including financial, than non-disabled people. In 2019, the Office for National Statistics found that disabled women experience domestic abuse at twice the rate of non-disabled women, and that over 20% of disabled adults had experienced crime - including fraud, in the UK.

But conservatorships - more commonly referred to as deputyships in this country - are also essential for profoundly disabled and at-risk people. My brother is incapable of making his own financial decisions. He has no understanding of money, banking, currency, mathematics - to leave him in control of his own finances under the guise of empowerment would not only be extremely cruel but outright dangerous.

We do the most in need and at risk disabled people a disservice when we overstate their capabilities. Although “disabled people don’t need you to speak for them!” is a nice sentiment, it is in many, many cases fundamentally untrue. My brother relies upon me speaking for him to keep him safe, happy, and healthy.

It is imperative that we look at the state of (online) disability activism and discourse and ask ourselves - who is talking the loudest here, who is being listened to, whose voices are we championing - and why? If our most popular and prominent disability voices online are spending their energy telling us that they don’t always have to use a wheelchair, that they can be independent, reassuring (themselves, each other?) that you are disabled enough that the provisions in place for the most vulnerable disabled people are wrong and abusive, that invisible disabilities are valid, that identity policing is wrong - what does this say about how they feel about the full-time wheelchair users, those disabled people who will never have to worry about whether they are ‘disabled enough’, those with conservatorships and 3-2-1 carer ratios? How do they explain to people like my brother that each time we hang out at the swimming pool or the cinema we ‘hate disabled people’ and are ‘engaging in eugenics?’

The disability content creators who hammer home how much they are not like those other disabled people - the ones in desperate need, the developmentally disabled, the non-verbal, the care home residents - have you ever spoken to someone like my brother? Do you move away from the drooling and the rocking on the bus? Why are you so desperately keen to distance yourself from him, to leave him out of all your ‘awareness raising’?

When will the internet’s Left look my brother in the eye and explain it all?

Anyway. All this is just to say you’re not ‘going non-verbal’ - but you are almost certainly incredibly annoying.