Disability and Desire Deserve Better Representation

Affirming disabled readers and lovers, and unpacking ableism in sex ed and media

Too often, when we talk about sex, disability is left out. When we picture desire, we are fed images of young, thin, able-bodied people in idealized poses. We are not shown wheelchairs. We are not shown mobility aids. We are not shown scars, tremors, asymmetry, or fatigue. We are not shown difference. And we are certainly not shown desire that lives inside it.

This silence sends a message. That sex is for some bodies, but not all. That pleasure is for the capable. That beauty means smoothness, symmetry, ease, and youth.

That message is wrong. And it is harmful. Every body is a body worthy of pleasure. Every body is a body capable of connection, sensation, and erotic expression. Each one in its own unique way.

Disabled People Are Not a Side Note

Disability is not rare. It is not a niche concern. It is part of the human experience. Many people are born with disabilities. Others acquire them through injury, illness, or aging. Some are visible. Some are not. All are valid.

When sex education and media ignore disabled people, they are ignoring a huge part of the population. And they are sending the harmful message that disability and sexuality do not belong together.

They do. They always have.

Desire does not disappear when the body changes. It might shift. It might express itself differently. It might need new tools, new timing, or new language. But it does not vanish unless shame chokes it out.

Representation matters. Not because it is nice. But because it is necessary.

Ableism Shows Up in Subtle and Loud Ways

Ableism in sex education is not just about what is said. It is about what is assumed.

It is assumed that everyone can feel sensation in the same places. That everyone can move in the same ways. That everyone experiences arousal the same. That sex looks like a certain sequence. That pleasure is linear. That climax is the goal.

These assumptions leave many people feeling broken, excluded, or like they are doing it wrong. They erase the creativity and intelligence disabled lovers bring to the table. They erase the beauty of adaptation.

Disability does not diminish erotic capacity. But ableism can bury it under silence, shame, and structural inaccessibility.

Affirmation Must Be Embodied, Not Just Spoken

It is not enough to say that all bodies are welcome. We must teach in ways that include disabled bodies from the beginning. We must design spaces, media, and education that do not treat disability as an afterthought.

That might mean describing alternative positions or sensations. That might mean offering examples of pleasure that are not genital. That might mean naming fatigue and care needs without shame. That might mean centering disabled educators, artists, and sex workers who are already showing us how to live erotic lives with brilliance and truth.

Inclusion is not charity. It is a return to reality.

Disabled people are not less than. They are not burdens. They are not broken. They are people with bodies, stories, and desires that deserve to be met with respect.

Desire Looks Many Ways and So Does Pleasure

There is no one right way to be turned on. There is no one right way to love. There is no one right way to touch or be touched. There is no one right shape for arousal to take.

Desire might come with slowness. With rest breaks. With adaptive tools. With nontraditional sensation. With deep negotiation. With care teams and quiet rooms and unexpected genius.

None of that makes it less real. In fact, it often makes it more honest.

Disabled desire is not something to pity. It is something to learn from.

With love,
Nina