Have you ever noticed that talking about disability in the English language comes with an awful lot of “rules,” and that depending on who you ask, these “rules” tend to vary to different extremes? Perhaps I am hyperaware of this because as a writer I am drawn to exploring deeper meanings behind word choice and the context in which words are used. However, because words are at the very core of how so many of us connect and communicate, I believe it is worth it for all of us to dig deeper into how our thoughts on disability shapes the language we use, and how the language we use shapes our thoughts on disability.

While I think about words and their implications constantly, something really struck me recently that made me realize just how ingrained negative perceptions of disability are in the English language. I attended a self-advocacy conference during which I had the opportunity to meet an incredible leader in the self-advocacy movement, Bernard Carabello. When he opened the floor for questions during the discussion he was leading, my hand shot up. I wanted to know if Mr. Carabello – despite being known as a renowned self advocate and the founder of a self advocacy organization – believes that there will come a day when having a disability and being an advocate for yourself won’t mean having to identify specifically as a “self-advocate” rather than just an “advocate.” And he answered, “I sure hope so.”

The reason I raised this question is because the distinction between “self-advocate” and “advocate” has been troubling me lately. The term “self-advocate” is intended to let people know that an advocate who is disabled can advocate for themself. But if the self-advocacy movement has truly come as far as I’d like to believe it has, then why is this term still necessary? Advocates involved in other major civil rights movement don’t have to be distinguished as self-advocate for people to know that they’re advocating for their own rights. So, in a way, “self-advocate” perpetuates a hierarchy in advocacy. It is a well-intentioned language choice that still ends up buying into stigma surrounding the disability community by assuming that it must be acknowledged that we are capable of being our own advocates.

I, for one, am an advocate – for myself and for others. Period.

A similar issue is raised by the ongoing debate about using Person-First Language (PFL) versus Identity-First Language (IFL). One primary example of this is saying “person with the disability” instead of “disabled person.” Many people are steadfast believers in the importance of using PFL, and I can understand why. The intent of the PFL is to put the person before their disability. After all, regardless of having a disability, we are people and not diagnoses. As such, PFL is meant to indicate that you acknowledge that person for a person, and not only for a disability. It is supposed to be a show of respect. That being said, let’s look more closely at the distinction between PFL and IFL.

By saying that a person is “with” a disability, you consciously remove it from them, denying that it is just another part of who they are as a person. It seems to me to imply that disability is inherently bad, and that if you dare to notice or acknowledge disability, the person is somehow less-than whole or human. Consider this: when you go out of your way to say things like “he is a person who is Asian” or “she is a person who is Jewish?” Probably not. Disability is just another descriptor. And for some (myself included), disability is something that I count as part of my identity. Is not something that I feel ashamed of, or something that I want people to tiptoe around and ignore. Hence, I personally choose to use IFL. When it comes down to it, I consider myself a person, plain and simple, and calling me a “person with a disability” rather than a “disabled person” is not a distinction I require to feel respected.

Ultimately, I believe the fact that society still holds on to special rules, or etiquette, when it comes to discussing disability, is an indication that we are not completely rid of discriminatory attitudes. Too often, language is used in ways that overcompensate in an effort to justify that disabled people are people, that we are advocates, that we are competent, that we are capable. It is my hope that there will come a day when we no longer need to make such distinctions to be accepted as full and contributing members of society. And I’d like to declare once and for all that I am a proud disabled advocate, and that’s exactly who I want to be.

Emily Ladau is a writer and disability rights activist whose passion is to harness the powers of language and social media as tools for people to become informed and engaged social justice advocates. She maintains a blog, Words I Wheel By, as a platform to address discrimination and to encourage people to understand the experience of having a disability in more positive, accepting, and supportive ways. You’re welcome to connect with her on Facebook and Twitter.