While watching the UAL video The Social Model of Disability, one line stood out to me: ‘Sometimes I feel like I have to tell people my life story just to get what I need’. This brought to mind Kimberlé Crenshaw’s theory of intersectionality (1989, 2013)—the idea that identity is complex, and that people often face overlapping forms of discrimination or structural barriers. Access needs are not always straightforward, and may be shaped by multiple, intersecting factors including disability, class, geography, and more.
This resonated with an experience I had while organising a public symposium at UAL. I asked all invited speakers to share any access requirements; one responded with an access rider. I was able to meet all the requests except one: the speaker, who lives outside London and has an invisible disability, asked for a hotel the night before the event. This was of course reasonable, travel at that hour would have been impossible for them. However, our event budget was tiny and already allocated as this was a requirement of the funding application process. I approached the funder to request additional support, but they asked to see the access rider as ‘evidence’. The rider clearly stated it should not be shared without permission, and the speaker declined. I supported this decision—access needs should not be subject to inspection by non-medical gatekeepers. Thankfully, the funder relented and agreed to cover the cost. But it could have gone the other way.
This also reminded me of an artist collague, who lost his disability benefits after refusing to ‘perform’ his disability during a PIP assessment. He was asked to balance on one leg, reach up and down, and demonstrate his limitations in front of a private contractor—not a medical professional. He refused, saying, ‘I’m not a performing monkey’, and left. His benefits were stopped. He later told me that, as someone who identifies strongly as working class, he already felt subject to intense scrutiny from state institutions. The demand to prove his need was one step too far. His story made me wonder how such demands for ‘evidence’ align with Article 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights—the right to a private life.
Reflecting on the symposium, I regret forwarding the funder’s request to the speaker—I should have refused on principle. I also recognise that I could have asked the speaker about their access requirements before applying for funding, to ensure a more accurate and inclusive budget from the outset. More fundamentally, I see now that I could have done more to challenge a system that treats access as an afterthought. By accepting a structure that prioritises content over care, I inadvertently reinforced it. In future, I want to push back against funding models that require budgets to be fixed before access needs are known, and advocate for approaches that centre accessibility from the very beginning. In a university where 15% of students declared a disability (UAL, 2022), this feels particularly crucial.
References:
Crenshaw, K. (2013) ‘Mapping the margins: Intersectionality, identity politics, and violence against women of color’. In The Public Nature of Private Violence (pp. 93-118). Routledge.
UAL (2022) Equality, Diversity and Inclusion Annual report 2021/22. Available at: https://www.arts.ac.uk/?a=389423 (Accessed 19/05/2025)
UAL (2020) The Social Model of Disability Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNdnjmcrzgw&t=46s (Accessed 19/05/2025)
Hannah, your reflection highlights the real-world complexities of navigating access within institutional systems that often prioritise efficiency over care. It shows a growing awareness of how structural barriers, like fixed funding models, can unintentionally marginalise those with access needs, particularly when those needs intersect with other identities. By recognising past missteps and expressing a commitment to centring accessibility from the outset, it demonstrates a thoughtful shift toward more equitable and inclusive practice. It’s a powerful reminder that inclusion isn’t just about meeting needs, it’s about reshaping the systems that make access difficult in the first place.
Hi Hannah,
Thanks so much for sharing your blog post. I really appreciated hearing about your experience navigating disability funding at UAL. Your reflections highlighted some really important issues around privacy and the kind of insensitivity that people with invisible disabilities often face.
The examples you shared, from both your own experience and your colleague’s – sounded really frustrating. I found it really valuable to read your thoughts on how you might approach things differently in the future. Your writing gave me both inspiration and some really practical ideas for how to push back against unfair systems and advocate for better accessibility.
Thanks again for being so open in sharing your story.
All the best,
Ella
Hannah, thank you for sharing these accounts, as they not only reflect how inappropriate the behaviour and protocols are around accessibility needs, but also how much I take for granted as an able-bodied person. The fact that people have to explain and rationalise their accessibility needs in order to receive appropriate funding also speaks to how incompatible our capitalist society is – because it often comes down to money, whether something is permissible or not.
The story of your artist colleague was also terrible, but then not entirely surprising. I was thinking about representations of disability in popular culture, and how more often than not, it is visible disability that is more often depicted. When I think about these instances of tokenism, they also seem to reinforce this reductive idea of what disability ‘looks’ like. The burden of proof now, seems even more problematic as the government reduces disability benefits with the rhetoric of people taking advantage of the system (which is awful).