
Language shapes how we think about people. The words we use — casually, habitually, without thinking — carry assumptions about who is and isn’t valued, capable, or normal. Ableist language is language that devalues people with disability, and it’s far more common than most people realise.
Addressing it isn’t about policing speech. It’s about recognising the impact of words and making choices that reflect a more honest, respectful view of people with disability.
What ableist language is
Ableist language includes words and phrases that use disability as a metaphor for something negative, or that treat disability as inherently inferior. Common examples include “crazy,” “insane,” “lame,” “dumb,” and “blind to” (used to mean unaware). These terms borrow from the lived reality of people with disability to describe something bad, broken, or foolish.
The harm isn’t always obvious to the speaker. Most people using these words aren’t thinking about disability at all — that’s part of how the language works. It embeds a connection between disability and negativity at a level below conscious thought, reinforcing a set of assumptions that affects how people with disability are treated and perceived.
Common examples and alternatives
| Common term | What to use instead |
|---|---|
| “Crazy” / “insane” | Unbelievable, astonishing, intense, chaotic |
| “Lame” | Disappointing, weak, unimpressive |
| “Dumb” | Uninformed, foolish, poorly considered |
| “Blind to” | Unaware of, ignoring, failing to see |
| “Suffers from” | Lives with, has, experiences |
| “Confined to a wheelchair” | Uses a wheelchair, wheelchair user |
| “The disabled” / “the handicapped” | People with disability, disabled people |
Identity-first vs person-first language
One active debate in disability communities is whether to use person-first language (“person with disability”) or identity-first language (“disabled person”). There’s no universal right answer — preferences vary significantly between individuals and communities. Some people strongly prefer person-first because it places the person before the condition. Others prefer identity-first because they see disability as a core part of their identity, not something separate from who they are.
The most respectful approach is to follow the lead of the person you’re talking with, and ask when you’re unsure. Defaulting to one style without checking isn’t automatically the wrong call, but being open to correction matters more than getting it right first time.
How to make the shift
- Learn: Understanding which terms cause harm and why is the starting point. There are good online resources on this, and disability-led organisations often publish guides
- Notice: Pay attention to the words you reach for automatically. Catching your own defaults is where change actually begins
- Find alternatives: Most ableist terms have alternatives that say what you actually mean more precisely
- Talk about it: Raising awareness in your own network multiplies the effect. The more people who understand the impact, the less normalised these terms remain
- Handle correction well: If someone points out ableist language, the right response is to thank them, learn from it, and adjust. Defensiveness is counterproductive
What this has to do with disability support
At Heartfelt Support, the language we use matters. Not because of a style guide — but because the people we work with live in a world where ableist language is genuinely common, and where the assumptions behind it show up in how services are designed, how plans are funded, and how people with disability are treated.
Changing language doesn’t dismantle ableism on its own. But it removes one of the ways it reinforces itself. And in our work, where the goal is to support people in living the lives they want — on their own terms — the language we use to describe and talk about disability is part of that.
Ready to find out if we’re the right fit?
A free 15-minute consultation is a good place to start. No pressure, no commitment.