Last week, Sofía Jirau made history as the first model with Down’s syndrome to pose for Victoria’s Secret. The images are stunning, yet the shoot’s launch set off ableists everywhere.
Critics have denounced her history-making achievement as objectifying, arguing that it is wrong to sexualise a person with Down’s syndrome. While vast swathes of the internet are embracing a significant milestone in disabled representation, others are alleging concern for her welfare.
To state what should be the obvious: sexual assault has no time limit. Whether it lasts one second or one hour, the violation of another person’s body is equally unacceptable. Yet, apparently, this is difficult to grasp – for an Italian judge has cleared a school caretaker of groping a teenage schoolgirl because it “did not last long enough” to qualify as sexual assault.
Social media is incandescent with rage about Huw Edwards’s suspended sentence, but I’m not remotely surprised. As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse who was actively discouraged from pursuing charges at all, I know it’s par for the course. This country is essentially on the edge of decriminalising childhood sexual abuse and possessing indecent imagery of children, just like it has with rape.
In April 2022, I flew to south-east Asia for a backpacking trip designed to relieve the stress of post-pandemic life. Now, with the cost of living crisis taking over the UK, I’ll never return to live in my home country – I cannot afford to.
I left full-time work in February 2019 to better manage my collection of chronic and disabling illnesses; the current headliners are endometriosis and fibromyalgia. Remote, part-time work transformed my quality of life by allowing me complete control over my time and distribution of precious reserves of energy.
I made the decision to become a digital nomad after experiencing burnout. But, unlike so many of my 35 million nomadic peers, my Odyssean journey is haunted by an array of disabling chronic illnesses.
“I should tell you, I’m not great with monogamy, so I only do open relationships now,” read the WhatsApp message. Frozen in my once tranquil place on the sofa, I flicked away the notification as if its disappearance could erase the message’s existence. “What on earth does that mean?” I thought.
When an employer began stripping away duties and relegated her to a tiny desk in the kitchen unit of the office, Barbara Stensland knew her recent multiple sclerosis diagnosis was behind it.
This was an attempt to push her out of the workplace.
Eventually, after repeated requests for accommodations went unmet – with the exception of some limited flexible working – Barbara was let go from her role as a community outreach worker, a job she loved.
Carrie and her husband Aiden have been married for nearly three decades. However, for the last 11 years, the couple has had to survive on a single income and constantly fight to make ends meet.
‘If I died, Aiden couldn’t afford to bury me,’ Carrie tells Metro matter of factly. ‘The only way we could get by without really, really suffering is if we got divorced.’
“Have you always been such a slut?” says my friend. “Yup,” I reply with a grin.
In my life, some people called me a sex addict and some – like my friend – have called me a slut. But years after this particular friend queried my supposed promiscuity, a therapist offered up a different descriptor: hypersexual.
“Your boobs are huge,” my partner quipped from the hotel bed as I wiggled into my swimming costume.
I laughed it off and jiggled them in his face before taking one last swim on our holiday in the Dominican Republic, trying to quiet that voice in the back of my head, whispering, “What if you are pregnant?”
