Two thirds of Covid-19 deaths have been disabled people, leading disability activists to push for a government inquiry. July was also coincidentally Disability Pride Month. Be honest, did you know either of these things even happened? If you did, how much coverage did you see?
Why are the plights of disabled people during the pandemic so chronically underreported? And what can well-intentioned journalists do to make sure they’re living up to the old cliches of ‘holding the powerful to account’ and ‘giving voices to the voiceless’?
Younger disabled women are 11x more likely to die from Covid-19 than their able-bodied counterparts, it was revealed by long-awaited ONS data published in July. The data sets showed that disabled people account for about 22,500 deaths between March 2nd and May 15th, compared to 15,500 deaths in patients without disabilities.
I cant think of many things more ‘newsworthy’, but according to Disability News Service, “despite the shocking figures, their publication passed almost unnoticed in the media.”
As journalists, we must facilitate examination of the historic distrust between disabled communities, media, government and employers.
I spoke with Jane Smith*, 24, and Dan Jones* 39, about how the pandemic has changed their lives, and media reportage of disabled struggle throughout.
Jane Smith was in the shielding category. During the pandemic, Jane had to sacrifice training for a specialised health care role.
She explained: “I’ve just had to quit my job as I worked in extremely close contact with up to 14 patients a day. The company were happy to throw me back into care homes and home visits without a second thought.
“They basically felt as if I was being melodramatic. I really feel like the media has covered shielding as an old age thing, not really mentioning how this has ruined careers. You either want to protect people or you don’t.”
Dan Jones was not considered ‘extremely vulnerable’, despite several disabilities. He was an essential worker too. His wife is self-employed, and only received a 60% wage subsidy throughout the pandemic.
Their monthly outgoings increased as their income dropped by a third, plunging them into panic and exacerbating Dan’s health problems drastically.
Dan told me: “I’ll be honest, I expected even less support from Boris than we ended up getting. Disabled people, minorities and the working poor have long been sacrificed on the altar of our economy.
“It’s the media silence that stung. Didn’t see a single report that spoke to my own experiences. It makes you feel invisible and irrelevant.”
Why does representation matter?
Post-BLM, conversations about representation in the public sphere have exploded. Journalism is infamously over-representative of upper class white people (especially heteronormative, cisgender men) and under-representative of just about every other demographic. Only 14% of journalists are disabled, compared with 24% of the UK population. In broadcast journalism, the picture is much worse still – we only make up roughly 5.5% of on-screen staff.
There are so many barriers to disabled folks trying to get into the industry, to which I can personally attest. So many barriers in fact that it would require another article entirely.
Theres a common phrase in representation activism – “nothing about us without us”. Naturally, I’d love to see more coverage of Disability Pride. I’d love to see more coverage of the push by disability activists for a government inquiry. I’d love to see media hold the governments feet to the fire for their blatant flouting of our rights more generally.
That’s only the start, though. The media cannot meaningfully hold government to account on behalf of disabled people, unless they understand disabled communities themselves. Hiring one disabled journalist, interviewing one activist or one traumatised PIP applicant simply isn’t enough.
Reductive reporting does not help.
This superficial understanding can help explain why disabled struggle is portrayed as so one-dimensional. One frequent problem in media is the tendency to treat minority groups as a monolith. Most coverage I’ve seen on disabled struggle throughout the pandemic is essentialising, focusing largely on the elderly and particularly those in care homes.
Part of this issue is with form. Be mindful of reductive reporting. Complex stories cannot be told in 300 words or a five minute clip. The rise of podcasts and long-form content in recent years proves that many journalists have underestimated the public’s attention span and appetite for nuanced discussion.
Sure, there are common struggles between all disabled people, but our lockdown experiences are hugely varied. The same disabilities create hugely different barriers depending on many factors other than physicality. Your class, age, gender, race, employment status, environment, mental health, all intersect – shaping your first hand experiences of disability greatly.
If you’re reading this as a journalist, here’s few basic tips:
First, diversify your feeds. For now, Disability News Service remains one of the few comprehensive sources in the UK for disability news. There are plenty of disability charities, activists and influencers doing incredible work too. Read up on ableism – I’d recommend starting with ‘Crippled’, a brilliant book by Frances Ryan.
Then, take a long hard look at your contact book. Don’t just speak to disabled people about disability news, either. We have many valuable contributions to make in all fields, whether you create politics, sport or lifestyle content.
The media cannot win back the trust of disabled communities without thinking critically about how well we as an industry live up to the values we profess. Distrust in media has been growing for a long time, and representation – of all minorities – is sadly only a small part of that.
*Names have been changed to protect the individuals identity. A recurring theme I found during interviews was fear of their employers reading this.
Dayna Latham
Tweet to @laynadatham
Feature image courtesy of Getty Images.
