''too infertile for you, too disabled for you, too manglik for you, too dependent for you, too emotional for you, too moody for you, too hairy for you, too sad for you, too nonconforming for you, too traditional for you, too slutty for you, too empowered for you, too ambitious for you, too bold for you, too shy for you, too independent for you, too difficult for you, too dramatic for you, too caring for you, too untamed for you, too weak for you, too voiceless for you, too loud for you, too naked for you, too kindred for you, too dark-skinned for you, too fucking skinny for you, too fat for you, too complex for you, too anxious for you, too sorted for you, too delicate for you, too enthusiastic for you, too weird for you, too powerful for you.''
Intersectionality has often been defined as the overlapping of our social and political identities; it is the creation of systemic layers of experiences and discrimination.
In India, women with disabilities have experienced multilayered marginalization from mainstream society. Moreover dialogue regarding sexuality in India has remained both contested and disregarded. While talk around sexuality of women is simply curbed and silenced, the exploration of the sexuality of women with disabilities is nearly non-existent to say the least. Thus, the predominantly stigmatized lens through which we speak of gender, sex and desire of women with disabilities is an impediment to understanding the complexities of their experiences with sexuality.
As a disabled woman, my road to discovering my sexuality has been lonely. Organisations teaching disabled sexual education are few, if any. Growing up, I had a lot of internalized ableism within me and I never sought out any support communities for my motor disability and chronic illness. I remember when I used to wear special shoes that used to look huge on my feet. They were called Ankle-foot orthos and they helped me walk. I used to hate wearing dresses at that point because my shoes used to come up to my knees and I thought I looked ugly. I also used to have a rule that whenever I wear a dress, I won't use my crutch. I felt the need to conform to the norm of looking "lady-like" : an idea of femininity that had been ingrained in me by patriarchy and social media.
In India, where we’re still fighting for our very existence: where our existence is a rebellion in an ableist society which tries so hard to pull us down when we try to thrive, Disability&Sexuality is a distant dream.
For the longest time, I found myself to be undesirable: not capable of acceptance and love: and I was hung up on being a "virgin" after all my non-disabled friends had engaged in sexual activities. Being educated in a non-disabled school, I never had any exposure to disabled people is. More folks like me. Masturbation was like slang for me growing up. I thought it was a predominantly masculine activity and that it was disgusting. I remember the guilt: I remember hurriedly Googling "is masturbation a sin and will I go to hell?". Such an incident, though amusing is the reality of several disabled youths who’ve never been exposed to sexual education that is made accessible to them.
I wish to bring sexuality and disability rights to the forefront of disability activism through my writings. It is essential to bring this topic to relevance within the Indian cultural context to empower these voices and enable them to establish their demands for choice and agency. Emerging discourse needs to increasingly recognize women with a disability as sexual beings with equal rights and aspirations across all strata of society.
