Rosie Jones, who has ataxic cerebral palsy, made a sensational appearance on Question Time on 7 October – but instead of being admired and honoured for celebrating her disability, she was the target of abhorrent ableist abuse.
The response to Rosie’s appearance shows exactly how uncomfortable society still is when they see disabled people speaking up. Rosie is a force for change for the disabled community.
Rosie is renowned for perfectly celebrating her disability, incorporating her slow speech into her hilarious comedic routines, something which I admire greatly because she doesn’t let her condition restrict her. It’s something I hope to learn to do – I’m still shy to talk on the phone let alone to a studio audience!
Rosie appeared on the political debate show fearlessly – a trademark characteristic for the comedian. The abuse she received reduced me to tears because I too have faced similar experiences.
The ignorance and ableism is loaded in many tweets seen during the aftermath of the show, with one reading: ‘Surely it makes sense to employ only panellists who can complete a sentence on the same day they start it?’
Rosie responded in a tweet: ‘The sad thing is that I’m not surprised at the ableist abuse I’ve received tonight regarding my appearance on Question Time. It’s indicative of the country we live in right now. I will keep on speaking up, in my wonderful voice, for what I believe in.’
Seeing her face disgusting abuse from trolls is very demoralising for the disabled community, including myself, but it is how we are treated time and time again. We are going backwards, rather than hurtling forwards.
I’ve had three strokes over nine years, and – like Rosie – I speak at a slower pace than the average person. I, too, have had my fair share of ignorant remarks, dirty stares and have been talked over countless times because I’m apparently taking too long to finish my sentence.
One particular moment that stands out for me was when I was looking at universities in 2018. I was visiting one of the top journalism schools in the country, and when I asked the lecturer whether they would provide support and accommodation for me and my weaker voice, as a routine check, she replied: ‘This isn’t the right career for you if you can’t talk.’
I cried the entire journey home and seriously considered quitting my dreams of becoming a journalist because of that one vile and ignorant comment. The comment was inaccurate on so many accounts – firstly, I can talk and since then, I have built my career as a journalist in spite of it.
The funny thing is, though, I received an offer from that very university but turned it down because of the shocking treatment I received. I never reported it, but my auntie did email the lecturer telling her how upset I was and I did get an email apology, but I never read it. The damage was already done.
The comment was rooted in ableism, a term for discrimination and social prejudice against people with disabilities based on the belief that typical abilities are superior.
At its heart, ableism is ingrained in the assumption that disabled people require ‘fixing’ and define them by their disabilities. When in actual fact, people with impairments can be funny, clever and love wholeheartedly – just like Rosie, and just like me. Many people forget that we are people with feelings, and our disabilities are definitely not our distinguishing factor, by any means.
I have been treated differently just because of how I talk countless times. I vividly remember attending a university class and being talked over because I suppose I was taking too long to get my sentence out.
I’ve been called ‘weird’ and ‘boring’ just because of my voice, one aspect of my whole identity. The whispering behind my back of questions like: ‘Why does she talk like that?’ As well as: ‘What’s wrong with her voice?’ is what really gets to me. Just ask, and I’ll tell you – I’ll much prefer it! No one has ever asked me outright, so I’ve now started telling people before they have the chance to talk behind my back.
Many of the ignorant comments I have been subject to have worn me down a lot. I have cried my eyes out due to how cruel people can be in a situation they barely understand. Just because I don’t have a crystal clear voice, doesn’t mean that I have nothing to say. In fact, I do have a lot to say, and I can add value to conversations.
People like me only need time and patience, and then we will flourish – it’s what we were born to do, after all. The biggest thing that helps me talk is a comfortable environment. I come across shy at first but once I settle in, there’s no stopping me!
I am often envious of people who can speak perfectly clearly, but I know my disability has made me stronger than I could have ever imagined becoming.
I wish people knew backstories, like mine or Rosie’s, before they make such hateful comments. They are most likely long and arduous journeys that we have faced. Journeys that trolls couldn’t comprehend, or live through, for a day.
Disabled people are the strongest people I know – we adapt, soldier on, and live each day. I, myself, have touched death on three occasions at the age of 21, and each time has been deeply traumatic. But I have grown from each experience, and my character has strengthened beyond belief.
Rosie is a pillar of the disabled community and I’m so proud of how she represents the slow-talkers of our society. Her response to the trolls was as eloquent as her brilliant appearance on Question Time.
The fact that disabled people are still subjected to abuse in 2021 has rocked me to my core. Reading the tweets produced such a visceral and emotional reaction that I had to shut the app and take a breather. It makes me question the society we live in. The #BeKind movement seems to be getting compressed under the vitriol of intellectual people and sheer hate.
We must all do better to support the disabled community. Disabled people can talk about issues that affect us, and have exactly the same rights as everyone else – totally undeserving of abhorrent abuse.
Show us the decency and courtesy of listening, and don’t make us ask for a basic, fundamental human right. Celebrate our wonderful voices – sit up and pay attention. You might just learn something.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
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