Jasper Peach on “inspiration porn’s annoying cousin,” toxic positivity

“No amount of smiling at a flight of stairs has ever made it turn into a ramp” – Stella Young in a piece about Inspiration Porn for RampUp.

‘Inspiration porn’, a concept coined by the late, great Stella Young, describes the unsavoury way a lot of disabled people are presented – to serve as inspiration and make able-bodied people feel great about themselves just by existing. Inspiration porn’s annoying cousin is toxic positivity.

Everyone in the disabled community has a story to tell about this invisible beast. Toxic positivity is coming for you, and it’s demanding that you live, laugh and love any issues away into a grateful puff of rainbow fairy floss.

Image: Jasper Peach. Carmen Bunting Photography.

If toxic positivity was a person, they would loom over you, arms folded with a gleam in their eye. “Actually,” they’d say smugly, that their “neighbour’s cousin’s personal trainer overcame what you are afflicted with, all it took was a commitment to yoga and Keto.” 

Toxic positivity usually kicks off with “just”. Just go gluten free. Just try these essential oils. Just think positive – everything is mind over matter.

Is it though? (Spoiler alert: it is not).

What I’ve noticed about toxic positivity is that, at its core, it’s a way to silence disabled people. It only rears its ugly head when the reality of our lived experience is inconvenient. When we need something that seems difficult to implement, or that causes a slight shift in how things are run.

If we weren’t such trouble-makers everything would run smoothly. Infrastructure, government or medical frameworks certainly wouldn’t have any responsibilities. With a better and more positive perspective, those pesky disabled people would fit in.

Fifteen years ago my injury became an illness and then morphed into chronic pain and disability – and I silenced myself with toxic positivity. I had assumed my thoughts were powerful enough to change outcomes, and I remember the exact moment the glass shattered around my beliefs. I knew that I had summoned every ounce of effort, every positive thought I could muster for months upon months of further setbacks. There were no loopholes, no passing Go to collect $200.

I finally understood that it was all a terrible lie: the notion that I could achieve anything If I worked hard enough.

I felt my legs go out from under me and thought I was going to throw up. This was a deeply flawed fairy-tale designed to make anyone deemed unproductive into a failure. I thought there was no way out of my own narrative, no way I could avoid the victim or evildoer roles. But, reader, I found a way out and I fought for it tooth and nail.

Going against the grain can feel like violence. It means advocating for yourself, endlessly. The work is exhausting and often changes nothing externally - but it sure beats living on your knees, dying inside and assuming everything is your fault.

The people pleasing gene is strong within me, and I still find it difficult to speak up when I’m bound to make someone else feel uncomfortable or angry. However, I am beyond the point of smiling and nodding when told I can think my way out of an inflammatory disorder, or that a gratitude journal will keep me safe in a pandemic.

Toxic positivity often springs from the belief that disabled people should be grateful to be included, and shouldn’t kick up a fuss when things aren’t quite right. After all, at least we were considered.

I can empathise with how frustrating it must be, after showing how generous and thoughtful you were, to be met with the humiliation of getting it wrong. Speaking up means we care enough to be real with you. Most of the time it’s easier to say, “I can’t do this” and sashay away, rather than face another protracted battle where we have to justify every aspect of how we live and what conditions we need at a minimum to thrive.

If you’ve come to the awkward realisation that you may inadvertently be a perpetrator of toxic positivity, it’s never too late to make some shifts toward being a better ally. When a disabled person shares their access requirements, know that they understand what is safe and inclusive for them better than anyone else, and let that inform your response. A simple “Thanks for letting me know” is a superior response to “You are wrong and I am offended.”

In the same way you would never grab the lead of a service dog, or the arm of a blind or vision-impaired person, the first port of call is always to ask the disabled person what it is that they need. This isn’t about ego - it’s about safe spaces.