Beyond disability

On this International Day of Persons with Disabilities, I received a letter from someone who has not merely read about disability — but has lived it, every single year, month, and day. Written in the first person, the letter reads like a manuscript, revealing what society has long overlooked. It raises questions not just for local communities, but globally, about how we perceive, respect and empower people with special needs — questions I invite every reader of this page to ponder and answer. It reads:

"I have a name, but let me call myself a disabled person. Why? Because this is what my identity is becoming as I live around, although I own this disability fully, unapologetically. My parents own it too, with love, sacrifice and silent strength. But there is someone who still struggles to accept it — society.

Not out of hatred, perhaps, but out of discomfort, unfamiliarity and a fear of difference. The real challenge lies not in living with disability, but in living in a world that is uncomfortable acknowledging it. Sometimes I wonder who is actually disabled? Can you tell, please?

The International Day of Persons with Disabilities (IDPD) is observed every year on December 3. It was proclaimed by the United Nations in 1992 to promote the rights and well-being of persons with disabilities in all spheres of society and development. The day aims to raise awareness about the challenges and barriers faced by people with disabilities and to promote their full and equal participation in society.

Each year, the UN sets a specific theme to highlight different aspects of disability inclusion, such as accessibility, employment, education and empowerment. But what about the days after it? We speak of inclusion, make policies and attend seminars. However, when it comes to everyday life — schools, workplaces, friendships, and most painfully, marriage — our tone shifts. We hesitate. We whisper. We avoid.

Let me ask you a question: Would you marry a blind or deaf person — even if they are skilled, educated, employed, perhaps a HR manager? Pause before you answer. Then nod accordingly.

Would you see me as a blind man? Or simply a man — who happens to be blind?

Would you introduce her as a deaf woman? Or a woman, confident, talented, who does her job better than most? Would disability become their identity, overshadowing everything they are and everything they could be?

This question is not to challenge you — it is to understand you. Because society's reaction is the reflection that disabled people live with every day. We are loved in sympathy, but rarely accepted in equality.

Growing up disabled is learning to learn and survive in ways others never notice. It is to navigate stares, pity, lowered expectations and unspoken ceilings. It is being celebrated publicly and sidelined privately. It is hearing that one is amazing, yet being excluded from opportunities simply because one does not fit a 'normal' mould.

Empowerment cannot be handed to a disabled person like charity. It must be embedded into the mindset of those who stand beside them. It is time must ask ourselves uncomfortable questions: (1) Do we hire disabled people only to meet quotas or because we believe in their talent? (2) Do our schools accommodate differently-abled students, or simply tolerate them? (3) Do we provide accessibility because the law demands it or because dignity does? (4) Do we teach our children to play with them, learn with them, dream with them?

True inclusion is not building ramps. It is building perspective.

Not just braille in books, but empathy in hearts and in normalising disability, not romanticising or marginalising it. Let a child see a wheelchair as a mobility tool, not a tragedy. The day society introduces a person by their name before their condition. The day a blind groom is first seen as a loving partner. The day a deaf woman is first recognised as a brilliant manager. That will be the day we have progressed.

Until then, my question remains, not as accusation but as invitation:

How can we empower society to own disability — not as a burden, not as charity — but as part of its human fabric?

Truly Yours"