First, The Times asked: “Why are young women using walking sticks?”, raising the possibility of “social contagion”. Then The Telegraph published: “How having a disability became cool.”
As a 29-year-old woman who was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at 21, I find the direction of this conversation deeply concerning.
Because there is an important question underneath all of this.
More young people are reporting disabilities and long-term health conditions. We should want to understand why.
But I’m not convinced looking at young disabled women and asking whether disability has become ‘cool’ gets us any closer to the answer.
Why might the numbers be increasing?
There isn’t one simple explanation.
Medicine has moved forward. We’re getting better at diagnosing many conditions and recognising symptoms that might previously have been missed, misunderstood, or dismissed.
People also have far greater access to health information and are more likely to recognise that something isn’t right and seek help.
MS is a good example. Research from UCL and Imperial College London found that recorded MS prevalence in England more than doubled between 2000 and 2020, with researchers attributing much of that increase to improved diagnosis and people with MS living longer.
That doesn’t mean MS has suddenly become more appealing. It means the number of people we know are living with it has changed.
There may also be genuine increases in some illnesses and conditions. The health of younger generations, the long-term consequences of Covid and pressures on mental and physical health all deserve proper research and discussion.
And our understanding of disability itself has changed.
Disability doesn’t always look the way people expect it to.
I didn’t “look disabled” at 21
When I was diagnosed with MS, I looked like any other 21-year-old. Eight years later, I still do most of the time.
I can work. I go to the gym. I travel. I’ve run marathons.
I’m also disabled.
My first online platform was literally called But You Don’t Look Ill, because those words captured so much of my experience of living with an invisible condition.
So, when young women with chronic illnesses are described as “seemingly healthy”, that should immediately raise questions.
What exactly are we expecting disability to look like?
Someone can use a wheelchair and also be able to walk. Someone can need a walking stick one day and not the next. Someone can post a photograph of themselves having a brilliant time and still be managing pain, fatigue or neurological symptoms that you cannot see.
None of those things make their disability less real.
And yes, we’re talking about disability more
That matters too.
Social media has given disabled people opportunities to find communities, share experiences and talk openly about parts of life that might once have remained private.
That doesn’t mean disabled people weren’t visible before. Generations of disabled people and activists have fought incredibly hard for recognition, rights and inclusion.
But the everyday reality of disability (particularly invisible and fluctuating disability) is perhaps more visible to the wider public.
For some people, seeing a young woman confidently using a colourful walking stick might feel new. The person using it isn’t.
And perhaps some young people today feel less pressure to hide their disability, struggle without support or wait until they reach some imaginary threshold of being “disabled enough” before using something that makes their life easier.
I think that’s progress.
We can have difficult conversations without questioning people’s disabilities
There are absolutely legitimate conversations to have about misinformation online, self-diagnosis, over-medicalisation and the commercialisation of chronic illness.
We should have them.
But we can challenge misinformation and bad medical advice without casting suspicion on an entire community of disabled and chronically ill people.
Because that suspicion doesn’t stay on the pages of a newspaper.
It follows the person getting out of a car parked in an accessible space who “doesn’t look disabled”.
It affects the employee asking for a reasonable adjustment.
It reaches the young woman wondering whether she really needs that walking stick, but terrified that somebody will judge her for using it.
And it reinforces the doubts of people with invisible symptoms who may already have spent months or years trying to get somebody to believe them.
This isn’t what I see
Through MS Together, I spend a lot of time with young adults living with MS.
I don’t see a generation aspiring to be disabled. I see people coming to terms with diagnoses they never expected to receive. I see people worrying about careers, relationships, treatment, symptoms, having children, and what their future might look like.
But I also see people finding each other. I see friendships, community, humour and people building brilliant lives alongside MS.
Sometimes that means talking publicly about disability. Sometimes it means asking for an adjustment. Sometimes it means using a mobility aid. Sometimes it means decorating that mobility aid and making it feel like theirs.
Finding joy alongside disability isn’t the same as finding joy in being disabled.
So yes, let’s ask why more young people are reporting disability and ill health.
Let’s research it. Let’s understand it. Let’s improve diagnosis, treatment, prevention, and support.
But let’s stop treating young disabled people themselves as something to investigate.
They shouldn’t have to make themselves look sicker, sadder, or less fulfilled just to be believed.
About the author
Amy Thompson is an award-winning charity founder, content creator, and advocate who is passionate about improving the lives of people with disabilities. After being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at 21, I began sharing my experiences through her platform ‘But You Don’t Look Ill‘, raising awareness of invisible conditions and building a supportive online community.
Amy went on to found MS Together, a national charity supporting young people with MS across the UK&I through peer support, events, and mental health services.