What’s In Budget 2026 for Disabled Canadians?

Budget 2026 has officially been tabled in the House of Commons, sending policy nerds, public servants, and non-profit staff alike into an analytical feeding frenzy.

Over the next week, your social media feed may feel overwhelmed by discussions of infrastructure investment, the cost of living, border security, AI – even Eurovision.

But as Budget discussions and debates kick off, disability is expected to be left off of the agenda – or at best, play an incredibly negligible role.

This blog series aims to fill the gap in disability-specific Budget 2026 coverage, make bureaucratic Budget jargon feel actually approachable, and help you better understand how Budget 2026 impacts yourself and/or loved ones with disabilities in your life.

I’ll do my best to identify the most notable budget commitments, explore areas to strengthen disability inclusion, flag areas to monitor, and raise causes for concern.

I’ve also put together this document (hyperlinked here) with all of the disability-specific measures in the Budget, impact assessment, and annexes if you feel so inclined to check the content out yourself!

The Budget

I don’t know about you, but Parliamentary Procedure was not remotely part of my K-12 education. There is a jarring lack of accessible and digestible information out there – so if this is your first time learning about how the Budget works, that’s completely okay!

Here’s a quick overview of what the Budget does and how it works:

Every year, the Federal Government (this year, the Carney Liberals), must table a budget in the House of Commons in order to receive authorization to spend taxpayer money on programs and services.

Which, in all fairness, may sound exceptionally boring.

But underneath all the technical accounting considerations of revenue, expenses, and debt service, the Budget provides an incredibly helpful indication of government priorities, commitments to programs and services, and amendments to existing tax codes and legislation.

In other words, the Budget is the road map for the year ahead.

(You can read Budget 2026: Masters of Our Own Destiny here!)

Every Budget will contain an economic overview, budget commitments; some annexes around projections, proposed legislation, and tax measures; and an impact report detailing how specific demographic groups may benefit from certain measures.

Every Budget must also be debated in the House of Commons. In previous minority governments, Budget week saw all the different political parties jostle to try and negotiate changes to the proposed budget. While debate will still occur under this majority government, it is expected that the proposed Budget will pass as originally presented.

Regardless, Budget Week is an excellent opportunity for everyone to have their say on the government’s proposed direction. Discussions on the Budget don’t just happen on the House of Commons floor – they’re happening within organizations, through media outlets, across different social media platforms.

Budget Week can help us gain a better understanding of ‘mainstream’ narratives around investment and programming, identify areas where we can most effectively advocate for accessibility and disability inclusion, and find new allies to support a barrier-free Canada by 2040.

Budget Week is also a great time to get in touch with your Member of Parliament to voice your own perspectives on the Budget! (You can find out who your MP is here!) With over 1 in 4 Canadians having a disability, making your voice heard is essential to reminding those in power that we are a sizeable minority that is only growing in size and influence.

8 Budget Commitments You Should Know About

1) Amendments to the Medical Expense Tax Credit

The Medical Expense Tax Credit is a non-refundable tax credit that covers prescribed, out-of-pocket medical expenses that make up over 3% of your income.

Budget 2026 proposes to remove the medical documentation/prescription requirement for some medical equipment, and to replace individual equipment prescriptions with medical documentation of a condition instead (p. 388).

Under this change, you would no longer need to submit any paperwork to claim expenses on insulin, infusion pumps, blood coagulation monitors, and devices to manage severe chronic respiratory ailments.

For equipment like pacemakers, screen readers, wheelchair lifts, braille printers, and visual fire alarms, you would just need a doctor to confirm an applicable medical condition – instead of writing prescriptions for different equipment all related to the same diagnosis.

While this change may seem small, it will significantly reduce the paperwork burden on both disabled people and medical practitioners! It’s also interesting to see the federal government begin to acknowledge the undue paperwork burden placed on disabled people and practitioners, and begin to shift away from requiring medical documentation for every little thing. A long way still to go, certainly, but it’s a start.

Additionally, Budget 2026 introduces an optional flat rate alternative to cover medical expenses, instead of having to keep track of every single dollar spent on medical equipment over an entire year.

These flat rates include $1,000 to cover gluten-free food expenses, $500 to cover incontinence products like diapers and catheters, and $2,000 for service dog-related expenses.

By removing the need to itemize every day, recurring expenses (think gluten free bread on your weekly grocery shop, or a bag of dog food once a month), I’m optimistic a lot more people will apply for and receive this Medical Expense Tax Credit.

However, I would have loved to see this become a refundable tax credit. It’s no secret that disabled people generally have lower incomes relative to non-disabled society.

And, as we’re actively in a national legislated disability poverty crisis, non-refundable tax credits really only directly support the financial security of those who earn enough in the first place to need to pay taxes.

As a community, we have to ensure that governments and budgets respond to all disabled peoples’ needs – not just a privileged minority.

2) Continued Federal Funding for Home and Community Care, and Mental Health and Addictions Services

Budget 2026 proposes $1.2 billion over the next year to extend federal funding agreements with the provinces and territories to continue funding for home and community care and mental health and addictions services (p. 210).

As health is largely a provincial and territorial issue, it’s totally normal to be confused on why this is in a federal budget. Basically, the federal government collects revenue from all of the provinces and territories’ residents, then re-allocates most of that revenue back to the provinces (this is known as equalization, give or take.)

But this money isn’t unconditional – the federal government, through transfer and funding agreements, can negotiate certain conditions the provinces and territories have to follow in order to receive the money.

Here, the federal government is allocating some of the overall tax revenue pot directly towards home and community care in the provinces and territories, with those governments actually providing the services.

As mental health is one of the fastest growing causes of disability (Statistics Canada, 2022), investments in mental health services are incredibly timely and can impact those in urgent need of support.

Home care is also an essential service, especially for those with complex medical conditions! By providing medical services to someone in their own home, individuals don’t have to spend time in medical facilities – and this can be especially important when accessible transportation is a barrier! For daily care, this also allows the individual to live in their home in the community, as opposed to residential medical facilities.

I’ve increasingly seen home care spending as a proxy for how governments prioritize the health and wellbeing of disabled people, as well as how governments perceive our quality of life. Seeing an investment in home and community care is always welcome, particularly as it aligns with a disability rights agenda emphasizing the right to live in the community! With that said, I would have to conduct a lot more research into provincial home care expenditure forecasts to gauge if this is a helpful infusion or just a drop in the bucket.

3) Amendments to the Canada Caregiver Credit

Budget 2026 commits to making the existing Canada Caregiver Credit a refundable tax credit – which can provide direct, end-of-year, financial support to primarily unpaid and female caregivers (p. 191).

This is a quick change to an existing system, but one that can address the significant unpaid economy of care! As the care economy and care work becomes more of a mainstream agenda item, I’ll be looking to see how safeguards for disabled recipients and acknowledgement of caregivers who are disabled themselves are approached.

I find it quite interesting that the Budget itself notes how “many caregivers have incomes too low to pay tax and therefore do not fully benefit from the existing Canada Caregiver Credit” (191), yet doesn’t extend the same consideration to the previously discussed Medical Expense Tax Credit for primarily disabled Canadians…

4) Making More Disabled Workers Eligible for the Canada Workers Benefit

Continuing on with the refundable tax credit theme, another exciting proposal from Budget 2026 would change the current minimum earnings threshold of the Canada Workers Benefit from $1150 to $200 for those receiving the disability supplement (p. 191).

Disabled people are disproportionately likely to be represented in initiatives for low-income workers, particularly as the disability pay gap persists.

So, I’m incredibly curious to know how this decision came to be – did it consider how provincial disability assistance programs begin to clawback support at incredibly low amounts, making the $200 amount more feasible for those on assistance? Was it an implicit acknowledgement of the disability pay gap, or labour market inaccessibility? Or is it a push to encourage more people to join our workforce under stagnating productivity?

While we’re on the topic of refundable tax credits: they can often be an excellent lever of direct financial assistance, and are more flexible in terms of the government’s debt burden – making new commitments more feasible under current government economic priorities.

However, I’m wary that as refundable tax credits become more popular, there will be a push to move monthly payments to annual payments via tax credits.

For example, I had previously heard of a proposal to make the Canada Disability Benefit a refundable tax credit, and had to actively advocate against it for these reasons. When you are living paycheck-to-paycheck, you just can’t wait for that monthly top-up.

5) Removing GST & HST from Massage Therapy and Alternating Electric Field Therapy Devices

Carrying forward momentum from the 2024 commitment to remove GST/HST from psychotherapy and counselling (learn more here), Budget 2026 proposes removing GST/HST from both massage therapy and alternating electric field therapy devices (p.414).

I think this is an excellent proposal that acknowledges the incredible variety of treatments, therapies, and services disabled people can benefit from! Non-disabled people often assume our conditions are stable and don’t require treatment, when in reality many of us require a whole ecosystem of wraparound services to achieve an adequate standard of health and wellbeing.

I was going to say I’d love to see this extended to Occupational and Physiotherapy… but fact-checked myself and realized they’ve been GST/HST free across the provinces! Budget week can be hectic, so this was a nice surprise!

6) $1.8 Billion for the Integrated Supports Fund

As part of a wider commitment to ending homelessness, Budget 2026 proposes $1.8 billion over 4 years (and $3.2 billion in future years) to establish an Integrated Supports Fund through Build Canada Homes, which would support projects focusing on health, mental health, addictions, social supports, and the adaption of existing buildings (p. 197).

Homelessness is a disability rights issue. So much so, it deserves its own blog for a proper discussion.

But for now here’s some key things you should know: disabled people on social assistance often struggle to pay rent (CBC, 2026), and disabled people are approximately 4 times more likely to experience homelessness (CHRC, n.d.). Homeless shelters, as underfunded and overcrowded as they are, are often inaccessible to those in wheelchairs – with a recent Women’s Shelters Canada study identifying that only 48% of shelters are generally accessible (WSC, 2026).

Back to Budget 2026: while I believe supportive and accessible housing should be much more strongly embedded throughout the entirety of Build Canada Homes and federal housing priorities, having dedicated funding for supportive housing is huge. It cements supportive housing as a necessity in addressing homelessness, which supports the growing body of evidence proving supportive housing is essential to the wider housing crisis.

With that said, this is certainly an area to watch. Accessibility and supportive housing services can be treated as two distinct entities, ignoring the overrepresentation of disabled people experiencing homelessness. One of the reasons why the Budget can be so important is that it allows us to flag areas for improvement or monitoring before they’re approved, ensuring public scrutiny and feedback throughout the entire process.

7) Additional Funding for Ready, Willing, and Able

Budget 2026 proposes $6.9 million to extend Inclusion Canada’s Ready, Willing and Able initiative (learn more about them here!) for another year, which supports persons primarily with intellectual disabilities in gaining work experience (p. 206).

This proposal touches on a really interesting dynamic I was hoping to have a bit more time to develop more articulate thoughts on. RWA makes a direct impact in the lives of its recipients, and does excellent work educating workplaces on becoming more inclusive and accessible. Let me be perfectly clear: I am a big fan of Inclusion Canada and Ready, Willing, and Able – I consider them colleagues, friends. Their work is important and essential and impactful and urgent.

But we often fail to ask, why does this work have to be done in the first place?

In short, because we allow the labour market to discriminate. We allow workplaces to be inaccessible. While we may have legislation in place (such as the federal Employment Equity Act and Accessible Canada Act, or provincial human rights codes), these systems rely on disabled people pursuing litigation after a harm has occurred.

Further, we do not have a federal, systemic approach to ensuring disabled people have the right to work. The United Nations Committee on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities recently criticized Canada for failing to have a federally cohesive approach to measuring, identifying, and removing systemic barriers to employment for persons with disabilities (Article 53 & 54, 2025).

Instead, we as a society often rely on non-profit, service provider organizations to provide patchwork solutions to address the most acute issues. These organizations are full of well-intentioned professionals who make real change in peoples’ everyday lives – but it’s a complete David and Goliath. A few million here and there, the goodwill of employers, and the dedication of non-profit staff are not enough to address how the labour market is structured to keep disabled people out.

Now, I’m not saying this investment is bad. It’s excellent, and warmly welcomed! But we need this investment, and structural reform. And while structural labour market reform might sound impossible, many countries actually have an enforced disability hiring quota system – where private medium and large businesses are expected to hire a certain percentage of disabled employees, or face fines. It’s already being done in Brazil, Germany, Spain, Turkey, you name it (Legal 500, n.d.)!

8) Home Accessibility Tax Credit

What do you know, we’re back on tax credits! Quite similar to the Medical Expense Tax Credit, Budget 2026 proposes an optional flat rate of $1000 in a non-refundable tax credit, as opposed to itemized expenses (p. 384). There’s a whole list of conditions tied to the one-time flat-rate payment, such as eligibility in future years requiring itemized lists, how individuals living together can file different claims for different modifications, and how the flat rate here would still require documentation.

The Budget 2026 Impacts Annex identifies that the Credit has historically benefitted those with middle- or higher-incomes, while those with lower incomes are more likely to incur expenses that would be covered by this credit (p. 61).

I will note, however, that I appreciate the Budget’s clarity in assuring that individuals residing in the same dwelling can submit claims for different expenses. When disabled people still don’t have full marriage equality due to social assistance clawbacks (CHRC, n.d.), seeing a federal policy acknowledge that disabled people may live together with different accessibility needs is depressingly refreshing.

That said, I find this Budget commitment is symptomatic of a wider issue: accessibility considerations in the housing crisis, and the housing crisis debate itself, is often geared towards homeowners. Disabled people are far more likely to rent than the non-disabled population (CHRC, n.d.), and likely wouldn’t be able to pursue accessibility renovations on their own. And this creates a significant policy gap: landlords have no obligation to provide accessible rentals, disabled tenants can’t inherently pursue accessibility modifications, and housing accessibility initiatives are geared to homeowners.

Closing-ish Thoughts

It’s difficult to assemble some closing thoughts on these commitments alone, knowing I’ll be spending the next few hours still hunched over my laptop looking at areas for strengthening disability inclusion and areas of concern.

You really can’t ignore the emphasis on tax credits here. There are clear benefits – it’s a streamlined administrative process that doesn’t require any new offices or staff, it bypasses federalism concerns, and it doesn’t necessarily always translate to government out-of-pocket expenses in the way that benefits or programs do.

But there are also drawbacks: again, disabled people in poverty can’t wait until the end of the fiscal year. At that, automatic tax filing is nowhere near in place yet. The disabled people who need financial relief most are not the ones independently filing taxes. They aren’t the ones who are able to afford home accessibility renovations.

I also have to say: there is way more related to disability than I expected. Grain of salt, I expected very little. Disability inclusion and accessibility has seemingly fallen off of the government agenda, which is not surprising with zero openly disabled representation in the House of Commons.

I don’t know if some disabled or allied staffers are behind-the-scenes, or if disabled persons organizations have managed to break through to policymakers, or if accessibility is finally being integrated into basic economic considerations.

Maybe the CRPD Concluding Observations rattled the more attuned public servants, or maybe all of the federal departmental Accessible Canada Act reporting is hammering in some lessons somewhere.

But whatever is happening seems to be working. Even as disability falls off the priority list, it is still present. It has become an unignorable force in politics and policymaking.

Does that mean the proposed measures are enough? Certainly not! But it’s certainly something to work with, and somewhere to start.

Ranking Every Paralympic Mascot So You Don’t Have To

While you might’ve been watching the Opening Ceremonies for the 2026 Milano Cortina Winter Olympics, I was… also doing that.

But to beat the crowd and hopefully remind non-disabled people that the paralympics exists, I was also reading up on every single mascot the Paralympic Games has ever had – for better, or for worse.

In what should only be read as a lighthearted comedic blog and absolutely not my entry into diplomatic commentary, please enjoy my personal ranking of every Paralympic mascot – from 1980 Arnhem to 2026 Milano Cortina.

22: Blaze (1996 Atlanta Summer Games)

photo of Blaze, a 1996 phoenix Paralympian mascot holding a flame, with text reading "triumph of the human spirit"

Boring!

This fire chicken looks like he would have bullied disabled kids at recess. He looks like he sits in the accessible seating section of the bus, and doesn’t even look up when someone with a walker needs that seat. He looks like he double parks in accessible spots.

I don’t trust this guy with an open flame, I don’t trust him with the PR of disabled athletes. 

Next!

21: Ray of Light and Snowflake (2014 Sochi Winter Games)

a horrendous computer animated set of alien mascots that look like humans, with snowflake all in blue with a snowflake cape and ray of light in all yellow with a big yellow headband

Obviously, their appearance is unsettling. Looking like 2000s Microsoft Office assistants cursed with sentience, they make you check your surroundings out of the corners of your eyes.

But their appearance is unfortunately the least jarring thing about these two.

You would assume they are humans, and would believe this is a creative reversal of the tendency to dehumanize disabled people – particularly with the olympic mascots being a polar bear, hare, and leopard.

Nope!

They are actually aliens! That look like humans! Space travellers who came down to earth to invent sledge hockey and wheelchair curling! 

THEY AREN’T EVEN DISABLED!

What makes this harrowing entry even worse, is that these things were voted by a jury of Paralympians.

Sometimes, it’s your own people.

20: Mandeville (2012 London Summer Games)

what is allegedly a piece of steel but is truly just an indescribable blob, mandeville is in grey and blue and appears to be skating, though its really anyone's guess

Another entry from the 21st century that has you squint, tilt your head, and ask “what the hell were they thinking?”

Mandeville, named after the city that failed to provide a proper peer to Dan D. Lion during the 1948 Summer Games, is literally a piece of metal.

A piece of leftover metal from the rafters of the Olympic Stadium.

Don’t worry, it gets worse.

His eye is a CAMERA. 

Which I do not believe is a clever take on how disabled people are under increased social surveillance and pressure to conform.

Not even remotely.

This personification of the panopticon or police state, depending on your persuasion, represents friendship.

Keep your friends close, and keep whatever this thing is far, far away from me. 

19: Aster (2006 Turin Winter Olympics)

early 2000s computer animation style of a snowflake with a big smile

It is worth noting that, compared to the Olympic mascots that year, Aster is only somewhat ugly.

It is also worth noting that Aster existed in a time before the phrase “liberal snowflake tears” would characterize a time of increasingly violent political polarization.

HOWEVER!

The idea of a snowflake representing how we (and by we, they mean us disabled people, not we) are all different?

Especially since the paralympics are based on categories designed to group disabled people that are as similarly disabled as possible.

Listen, in the pre-Glee era, this was probably a breakthrough. If it works it works, and it works until it doesn’t.

18: Dan D. Lion (1948 Long Island & Stoke Mandeville Summer Games)

a hand drawn human-like lion in full old school workout gear, including track pants, a matching sweater, and a headband - he has a kind face

Let’s all give Gramps here a hand for being the mascot of (what is generally considered to be) the first ever Paralympics!

Or at least, half of it. (The other half, occurring in Mandeville, UK, was mascot-free.)

Created by a local art teacher and named by a class of severely physically disabled students, Dan D. Lion has heart. He was accepted by the community. He was the original ally.

He also has a kind face and a whimsical aura. I would ask him to watch my drink at a bar. I would not feel the need to cross the street if I was walking alone at night.

Dan D. Lion was unfortunately implicated in a Soviet Bloc boycott of the Olympics – where a boycott of the paralympics was deemed unnecessary because they “didn’t have disabled people.”

Weird thing to say! 

Let’s move on.

17: Fu Niu Lele (2008 Beijing Summer Olympics)

animated picture of a multi-coloured cow with her hands behind her back and one foot kicking up

Listen, she’s cute, she’s whimsical, she’s forgettable.

Apparently she symbolizes both the striving of para-athletes for progress, and mankind-nature relations.

Which is great and all, but when the Olympic mascots are the Fuwa (good luck dolls based on the five natural elements) – I want more than a panda.

You know what a great element is? Style. Flare. Personality.

16: Parabbit (1998 Nagano Winter Games)

cartoon of parabbit, wth one ski pole and two different coloured ears

Honestly, I don’t know what to make of Parabbit.

I think the school kids that voted on the name absolutely knocked it out of the park here: para, rabbit, parabbit. Incredible.

But I’m not sure what it is supposed to represent. Who this thing is trying to be.

And above all, why it only has one ski pole.

15: Proteas (2004 Athens Summer Games)

a multi-coloured, hand-drawn seahorse with HANDS who is smiling

This cute little guy seems absolutely whimsical, until you learn the Olympic mascots that year were HUMANS!

Tell me what is wrong with this picture:

olympics = humans

paralympics = seahorse

And it gets worse! Apparently, a seahorse was selected to “convey the nature of the competitions.”

WHAT NATURE?

Now, if someone did somehow develop a mermaid tale it would absolutely qualify as a disability. However, until that happens, I’m not understanding the whole seahorse-disability connection.

14: Lizzie (2000 Sydney Summer Games)

a 2000s well drawn hyperrealistic cartoon of a frilled-neck lizard who is smiling

Now this is where the ranking really starts to kick off.

May I introduce the court to a frill-necked lizard voiced by Olivia Newton John?

May I also introduce the court to the only official mascot not arguably upstaged by folk hero and controversial unofficial mascot, Fatso the Fat-Arsed Wombat?

Further, may I also also introduce the court to Fatso the Fat-Arsed Wombat?

Australia, keep doing you.

13: Paralympic Phyrge (2024 Paris Summer Games)

a hat with hands, but the arms reach to the bottom of it. it has one blade prosthetic.

Besides… that… and it not having a name…. and it looking like that…

Look, at least “Paralympic Phyrge” (its apparent government name) is disabled. At least it is showing off that prosthetic. 

PP, as I’m calling it, is also described as a “party animal”, “spontaneous”, and “a bit hotheaded.” 

Now that is disability representation. 

(It better get better than… this.)

12: Bandabi (2018 Pyeongchang Winter Games)

a 3d computer animated asian black bear, with a white half-moon patch on his chest, wearing a hat and giving a thumbs up

You are going to look at Bandabi and think, “aw, cute!”

NO! It is a half-baked recycled imitation of the beloved Gomdoori – a former (and better) Paralympic mascot from the same damn country!

Now I love Asiatic Black Bears more than the average person, but I KNOW South Korea has more to offer.

Ignoring the fact Bandabi’s existence is a disparaging spin-off, I’m arguing Bandabi is a bisexual icon.

With banda meaning half moon, and bi meaning celebrating competition, this is the disabled bisexual icon we have been waiting for!

Unfortunately, our newfound icon is a controversial public figure: Bandabi was described as representing the enthusiasm of the players in the Paralympics so that they can overcome their limitations.

Bandabi is secretly ableist, pushing disabled people to be less disabled.

A sleeper ableist, if you will.

11: Noggi and Joggi (1980 Arnhem Summer Games)

vintage cartoon of two squirrels, one with a shirt one with a dress

To continue our tour through the old folks’ home, let me introduce you to the OGs.

Yep, the squirrels were the first every Paralympic mascot – a mere eight entire years after the first Olympic mascot was introduced in Munich…

While squirrels were chosen because they “frequent the forests surrounding the arena” (read: literally lying around), they were seen as representative of Paralympians as they “crack hard nuts.”

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!

As you can clearly tell since one of these squirrels is a pantsless freak and the other is wearing a dress, they are husband and wife.

Which, in a way, is the biggest win for disabled marriage equality to date.

(Disabled people risk losing their provincial disability assistance benefits if they marry and their household income increases, whereas squirrels don’t believe in the institution. Legislated disability poverty, not marriage.)

These squirrels were also created from a crocheted model, and if I’ve learned anything in my time with arthritis, it’s that chronically ill people love little crafts.

10: Shuey Rhon Rhon (2022 Beijing Winter Games)

the cutest human-like paper lantern ever! has a curious face with rosy cheeks, alleged to have snow on face as sign of good luck

I think Shuey Rhon Rhon is just delightful! And sometimes, that’s all we really need a mascot to be!

This sweet perfect angel is a Chinese lantern, representing harvest, celebration, warmth, and light while ringing in the Chinese/Lunar New Year!

The attention to detail is fantastic: her design incorporates paper-cutting art and a pattern of a dove and the Temple of Heaven – but I want to focus on her face.

Allegedly, the “snow” on her face promises a fruitful year – but I know better. Our queen, our icon, our peer is disabled just like us.

Shuey Rhon Rhon has a facial difference, only she’s not ready to own it yet. 

But I believe that if we, as a community, band together, we can create the empowering space she needs to embrace her true identity.

9: Petra (1992 Barcelona Summer Games)

cubist, hand-drawn cartoon of a young girl without arms

The only reason the first actually disabled Paralympic mascot is ranked here is because, when compared to the infamous Cobi, you can tell she was treated as an afterthought. 

And because, with love and respect, she’s just a girl! I get we’re going for beauty and perseverance in the ordinary or whatever, but a mascot is supposed to be a mascot!

Petra is actually based on mascot designer Javier Mariscal’s friend and plastic artist Lorenza Böttner, who was a trans woman with dual arm amputations and HIV.

Which is a beautiful tribute to such an influential friendship, and incredibly progressive for its time, but it goes beyond caricature. Which means, it can’t be a mascot.

Petra, you are so many things that calling you a mascot seems diminishing.

8: Alpy (1992 Albertville Winter Games)

a cartoon doodle of a mountain (more of a pyramid) smiling and doing mono-ski - with one ski in the middle and two skis and poles to the sides

While he might not be the peak of Paralympic mascots, he is the summit of Grande Motte mountain!

I am also choosing to believe this guy is disabled.

He appears to be on a mono-ski, minus the whole sitting in the bucket part – at first glance.

Yet upon further consideration, I asked myself: do mountains have butts? What if he’s sitting on the mono-ski bucket, and we just can’t see it?

While I don’t need to see it to believe it. That’s disabled kin.

7: Someity (2020 Tokyo Summer Games)

a cartoon of someitcy, a pink alien cyborg thing with antennae resembling a cherry blossom branch

Somehow, this superhero manages to avoid the whole super-crip overcoming narrative through sheer love of the game.

Our invisibly disabled icon is locked and loaded with superpowers – just like her Olympic counterpart! 

While superpowers are usually invoked to “inspire” the non-disabled   and make our lives as disabled people look like something terrible to overcome – Someity bravely shows us how sick having superpowers would be for most of us.

Telepathy? I get to communicate with my brain. No need to enunciate my words (did you know I had a speech impediment? fun fact…), no need to make sound, no need to hear sound in return.

Flying? That sounds like a low-impact activity for my joints, count me in. The idea of being able to just fly places instead of trudging through the snow or fighting for my life on public transit is simply overwhelming. 

Telekinesis? Moving things with your mind might be the ultimate mobility aid. Imagine it: you come home after work, in spoon deficit, and can’t physically cook dinner under the exhaustion. Then, you just think about making dinner – and it happens. 

You drop something outside of your mobility range? Swoop, back in your hand, just like that.

Annoying ableist questioning your disability or giving you weird looks in public? Throw them into the sun!

(If there’s some sort of Captain America-style superpower program going on, I am free.)

6: Tom (2016 Rio Summer Games)

a beautiful rendition of tom, whose hair forms an afro of leaves - he is jumping and has a big smile

Carrying on with the theme of unexpected accommodations, Tom represents Brazilian nature and can pull anything out of his branchy head. Anything.

That cost-prohibitive walker? There it is.

An ergonomic mouse? Here ya go.

A wearable heating pad? Get at it!

Now I wouldn’t say that Tom is disabled himself (though who am I to speculate, really) – Tom is disability ally #1.

But he isn’t loud about it.

He knows allyship is an active practice embedded in accountability to the community you’re in solidarity with.

Tom doesn’t take up space in the room, he makes space in the room. 

Forget a seat at the table, Tom will pull a seat out of his head for you.

Thank you, Tom.

The only reason Tom is ranked here and not higher, is because he was not thrown into the wrestling ring by coaches to challenge referee’s calls the same way his Olympic counterpart was.

All I’m asking for is equal treatment. Equal commitment to the bit. Controversy based on our actions, not portrayal.

5: Otto (2002 Salt Lake City Winter Games)

a 2000s cartoon of an otter with googles, gloves, and a scarf

At first glance, Otto just appears as a regular old (kinda swaggy) sea otter.

But he’s so much more than that.

First, he vehemently rejects extractive capitalism.

With the three Olympic mascots Powder, Copper, and Coal named after natural resources, Otto rejects the exploitation of our natural world for capitalist profit. Otto instead embraces nature, going so far as to be an otter himself.

That’s commitment!

While this is purely speculation, I’m going to argue Otto is rocking some form of neurodivergence. 

The goggles and the gloves? Despite being a sea otter, physically designed to self-insulate and remain waterproof? To address his sensory sensitives. 

Avoiding bad textures and bright lights, Otto also loves para skiing and ice sledge hockey – though, of course, he wouldn’t actually be allowed to compete. 

Not because he is an otter, but because he wouldn’t fit in the classification categories.

4: Sumi (2010 Vancouver Winter Games)

cartoon of Sumi, a chimera of a bear, thunderbird, and orca whale, smiling and waving

Canadians, please do not kill me for putting Sumi 4th.

Listen, Sumi (and MukMuk, and Quatchi, and Miga, and no I didn’t have to look that up) did the impossible: they treated the Olympics and Paralympics so equally, I had no clue Sumi was the Paralympic mascot. I really, at the time, had no idea there was a Paralympic mascot. 

Because they operate as a pack, it didn’t really give Sumi the time and space to shine – which is the only reason she’s at 4. That, and she’s just not disabled. 

Speaking of pack, MukMuk was working double time – acting as sidekick for the Olympics and Paralympics. Sounds like hyperactive ADHD to me, but this is supposed to be about Sumi.

Sumi is absolutely dripped out, wearing the hat of an orca whale, the wings of a thunderbird, and the legs of a black bear. Her name comes from Sumesh, the Salish word for guardian spirit, and I know she guarded over me as I played her online computer game for hours.

For teamwork, nostalgia, and mainstreaming, I’m happy to put Sumi at 4th.

3: Sondre (1994 Lillehamer Winter Games)

a 90s style cartoon of Sondre, a norwegian troll skiing on one leg, with the other amputated - he winks at the camera

What a fascinating guy.

In what has become one of the more intriguing trends, this is not the first time we’ve seen a non-human mascot when the Olympic mascots are… well… human.

And this feels a little worse because he’s a troll. Like an actual troll.

One of those Norwegian trolls. And like, maybe I don’t know enough about these dolls and should assume it’s some sort of compliment… but why the hell is is a troll?

That aside, Sondre is one of us. And we should uplift our own. It’s not his fault he’s a troll.

But he is responsible for being a skier with enough confidence to wink at us as he flies by. 

Not only is he disabled, he’s an athlete. He has personality, and he’s not afraid to break the mold. 

And somehow that really checks all my boxes here.

2: Gomdoori (1988 Seoul Summer Games)

an old style cartoon of two brown moon bears with their legs tied together completing a three legged race

I promised you would meet him and here we are: meet Gomdoori.

One of the first entries into Paralympic mascot history, I think they knocked it out of the park!

First, there’s a real story: Gomdoori (plural?) are Asiatic Black Bears, also known as moon bears, modelled after the constellations of Ursa Major and Ursa Minor.

That’s the level of creativity and cultural tie-ins I expect.

Now, this is the part where you’re asking: Carly, are they disabled or not?

Who am I to say?

They both have arthritis.

My rationale: my arthritic twin and I (also arthritic) have CRUSHED every three-legged race we have ever participated in. 

Which clearly means these bears have arthritis. 

I don’t make the rules.

The two bears being tied together is supposed to represent brotherhood, guidance, and cooperation between the Olympics and Paralympics – but we all know it’s a cleverly subtle cultural critique of the portrayal of disabled people as dependent.

The Gomdoori (now confirmed to be plural) also subvert another common portrayal of disabled people – taking us from victims of violence to perpetrators.

I do not know why the hell one of them has a stick menacingly gripped in their hand – I just know they’re armed. 

Too often, disabled people are only considered victims of crime. And wouldn’t true equality empower us to commit crimes on an equal basis with our non-disabled peers?

I think we all know the answer to that.

1: Milo (2026 Milano Cortina Winter Games)

gorgeous cartoon of a stoat (like an otter) jumping for joy, with the tail wrapping around to resemble another leg

No one else could have been number 1 here. And it wasn’t even close.

As far as I’m concerned, Milo has reinvented the wheel – giving us a refreshing, stylistic, meaningful, and youthful mascot with personality, poise, and persistence.

A stoat, just like his Olympian sister, he’s meant to symbolize innocence and purity. And while this could have easily veered into paternalistic territory, this innocence is celebrated – equally so at the Olympics! 

While it’s first instinct to shrug off anything remotely resembling harmful stereotypes, it’s important to recognize we contain multitudes – some of us are pure and innocent, and Milo isn’t afraid to lean into that!

Milo and his sister, Tina, are also the first officially Gen Z mascots. I think Gen Z is going to seriously challenge and alter how we think about disability, so Milo is definitely representing the community in a reflective way.

Speaking of youth, what terrifies me about Milo and Tina are that Italian schoolchildren drew them. Aged 6-14. What are they feeding them over there? Genuinely?

And we haven’t even got to his disability yet. Milo is disabled – on purpose! I don’t have to come up with some backstory!

Milo was born without a right leg, and uses his tail in a prosthetic-adjacent manner. And it’s not in your face at all, the way non-disabled portrayal of us tends to be. The media portrayal sees Milo’s disability the us disabled people tend to see each other – as we are.

You’ve gotta watch this clip introducing Tina and Milo (again, on equal, snowy grounds!) Not only does Milo get equal screen-time, he’s an utter shithead! 

The video quite literally opens with him launching a snowball in his sister’s face. Equally capable of violence. Beautiful.

Milo also has a personality – he’s an inventor! And while I’d be wary of Milo contributing to the growing wave of technoableism, where technological interventions are designed to ‘solve’ disability, I’m considering him innocent for now.

With an actual personality, incredible design, and a delightful narrative, Milo was always the clear winner of this ranking. 

I just put it here last so you had to read through the whole thing.

Where to Watch The Paralympics In Canada

CBC Gem will be streaming the paralympics for free online at https://www.cbc.ca/sports/paralympics/streaming-schedulefrom March 6th at 1:30pm ET all the way until March 13th at 11:30pm.

Sources

Wikipedia’s List of Paralympic Mascots

International Paralympic Committee’s Paralympic Games Mascots

IDPD and Trying Something New: Disability-Inclusion in Economic and Military Security

This International Day of Persons with Disabilities, I had the very unique privilege of spending the day with the UK High Commissioner and the British High Commission team to discuss how Canada-UK relations can and must centre disability inclusion and accessibility in multilateral diplomacy, similar domestic and foreign policies, economic growth and trade resilience strategies, and international leadership on critical security issues.

While I could give you a play-by-play of the day (which honestly felt more like a Make-A-Wish than my actual Make-A-Wish) I want to try something different.

I genuinely believe we as a society have finally reached a level of disability awareness that enables us advocates to go beyond basic awareness-raising and into tricky, complicated, unresolved issues. 

International Day of Persons with Disabilities means a lot of things to a lot of people. For me, quite honestly, it usually means hiding in my bed, scrolling through socials, tracking who even acknowledges the day, and who ignores it outright.

It means watching ‘progressive’ organizations and activists fail to include disability in their version of intersectionality. It means watching the frenzy of last-minute, we-forgot posts flood in around 3pm. It means I’ll be reminded that for some, disability remains an afterthought at the very best.

On the other hand, it means rolling my eyes at stock images of disabled people the poster has never met. It means yelling out loud to myself when I see outdated language. It means typing angry comments and deleting them over and over. It means holding my tongue when service providers emphasize our economic productivity and labour potential without addressing the legislated disability poverty crisis.

In short, it means a lot of things.

But I want it to mean something different. I want the International Day of Persons with Disabilities to reflect our everyday realities, that can champion our potential without shying away from the barriers we face.

I want IDPD to be an encouraging and effective call to action for disability allies – one that teaches them about our rich history of fighting for civil, social, economic, political, and cultural rights. One that demands progressive movements include disability in all aspects of their work. One that addresses all of the systemic forces of oppression at play to keep disabled people in place – out of work, out of school, out of the community.

But above all, I want IDPD to be a celebration and continuation of the disability rights my disabled ancestors fought for. The rights that I was born with, the rights I grew up with, and the rights I choose to fight for today.

We are beyond disability awareness. We are starting to understand disability inclusion. But we are not going to get anywhere without disability rights. 

And for me, in practice, realizing disability rights requires engaging in the tricky and complex debates most people assume disabled people have never even considered. Realizing disability rights requires that we make ourselves seen, heard, and known in all aspects of life.

Realizing disability rights requires that we get involved in all aspects of political and policy debates, including military and economic security.


I know! Curveball! Where did that come from! (Got you, we just talked about this…)

While I don’t often bring it up, my undergrad in international development and conflict studies has deeply influenced my approach to advocacy – but I could never figure out how to share those influences without it feeling too academic-y.

Since starting grad school just a few months ago, this struggle to connect my academic life to my advocacy work has been viciously gnawing away at my brain.

I realized that if I was going to be able to mentally cope with momentarily taking a break from the grassroots, I had to find a way to ensure whatever nerdy stuff I got up to would somehow find its way back to – and benefit – the community.

It wasn’t until writing this blog that I realized I had to do the same with my undergrad too.

I’ve also been acutely aware that with the new national government, my federal (non-partisan!) advocacy work was going to have to shift to meet evolving political priorities.

One of the main reasons that I’m an advocate and not an activist is because I genuinely believe that working with people in positions of power will be the most effective way of delivering real, impactful, and desirable change for the disability community.

The values, aims, and ends of my advocacy remain the same – I just communicate it to certain people in new ways. The goal will always be the full realization of disability rights at home and abroad – but the way we’re gonna get there will naturally shift with time.

So, I hope you guys can appreciate this new experimental approach, and that little behind-the-scenes of my advocacy work.

At best, we all learned something new. At worst, I do the usual “what IDPD means to me”/“disability rights revamped” blog-gy bit at the end.

Be brave.

As I prepared to spend the day with the UK High Commission to celebrate the International Day of Persons with Disabilities, I found my usual speaking points weren’t resonating the way they used to.

While I had spoken on international disability rights, I’d never taken a crack at specific bilateral disability relations. After about a year of silently feeling stagnant, this was the challenge I needed to revitalize my own advocacy work. 

While the whole military and economic security thing felt a little out of my wheelhouse, it was now or never – since the UK High Commissioner and his team were stuck with me for what felt like a Make-A-Wish-y amount of time. (And yes, I told the entire team this.) So, I spent hours developing some points on disability-inclusive diplomacy, defence, development, and trade.

Here goes: 

As we know, the world is rapidly shifting under the escalating polycrisis of climate change, conflict, economic inequality, democratic backsliding, and so much more. As Canada and our allies seek to strengthen our militaries, economies, and people, disabled people cannot be forgotten. 

In fact, I believe that disability inclusion can play a critical role in promoting meaningful, transformative change that not only improves overall efficiency and adaptability, but addresses deep-seated issues of inequality and barriers to access.

Here’s just a few ways how:

Economic Growth

Canada, like other G7 countries, is facing relatively slowed productivity. Simply put, our economies have reached a level of development that resists further innovation and adaptation. After years of stagnation, our positioning in the global economy grows increasingly precarious. But, as mainstream economics has begun to realize, our countries are full of untapped, skilled, ready potential. 

Many disabled people want to work – in fact, the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities recognizes the importance of meaningful work and the need to remove barriers to participation. However, the labour market remains inaccessible. With the majority of accommodations carrying zero financial cost, and the remainder of accommodations averaging out to about $300-$500, these are minor investments in unlocking massive potential. 

Trade Resilience

Us Canadians have seen firsthand just how quickly a long-standing, cherished relationship can (literally) go south. Today’s unanticipatedly unstable global economy is a wake-up call for countries to diversify trade partners, encourage domestic manufacturing, and to leverage economic concerns to meet social and security aims.

We know that disability and neurodivergence-inclusive workplaces are more productive, more flexible, and more adaptable. Disabled and neurodivergent workers experience the world differently, and their experiences and resulting insights contribute to more agile workplace policies and practices. 

These agile and reflexive firms are better prepared to adapt to acute and chronic macroeconomic shocks, and could provide a foundation for building an inclusive economy that meets the needs of all Canadians.

Democratic & Diplomatic Representation

To make the most effective, relevant, and practical decisions – we need the right people at the table. From trade talks to peace talks, we know that the right guest list is the very foundation of strong and effective negotiations that deliver tangible and impactful change.

Yet, too often, when we talk about disability – disabled people themselves are left out of the conversation. 

Having champions of the disability community with lived experience actively participate in critical negotiations and debates is essential to informing policies and programs that actually reflect and meet the needs of all Canadians. 

Canada has long been a leader on the international disability rights stage. Whether it’s the protection of child soldiers, prohibition on land mines, drafting the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, or guiding its ratification on the Committee – Canada has a long, but often forgotten, history of championing international disability inclusion.

Canada also has, in my opinion, the most sophisticated youth disability delegate program in the world. As a former delegate myself, I witnessed firsthand how having youth embedded in governmental delegations transforms the agenda and encourages candid discussions on emerging disability issues. 

As our generation inherits an increasingly troubled world, I want to encourage all CRPD delegations to ensure youth participation. Youth are not the future – youth are now. We must be provided with critical opportunities to develop our skills, networks, and voices to champion intergenerational change.

Domestic Human Security Approaches

As our countries pivot towards more security-oriented agendas, we must remember that security is not exclusive to the international realm – and that human security must start at home. 

If our societies are to respond to an increasingly complicated and unstable world, we must have the internal capacity and resilience. A human security approach prioritizes meeting a population’s basic needs – such as health, education, nutrition, and sanitation. 

This may sound obvious. But for the disabled recipients of disability assistance programs legislated into poverty, they struggle to meet their basic needs everyday. They are forced to choose between keeping the heat on, or putting food on the table. And sometimes, this legislated poverty prevents them from either.

To build a united, resilient, adaptable society prepared to respond to unimaginable circumstances, we must first ensure all members of our communities have their most basic needs met. Addressing this completely resolvable issue would foster individual belonging, community inclusion, and societal participation. When our individuals feel secure, when our communities feel connected, when our societies feel united – only then, can we band together to face the daunting challenges ahead.

Disability-Inclusive Development Aid & Post-Conflict Reconstruction

Official development aid has plummeted to a previously unimaginable low. Now, the most marginalized are asked to do so much more, for so much less. Given the current political context, it is unlikely Global North countries will increase their ODA anytime soon.

In this drastic context, disability-inclusive development aid stands as an innovative tool to deliver improved health, education, and employment outcomes to the most marginalized. Disability-inclusive development requires, by design, human-centred development that supports local populations of all abilities in designing the services and programs they deem most essential. When we design with disability in mind, we deliver for all ages, abilities, and backgrounds.

The 2025 Global Disability Summit’s Amman-Berlin Declaration recognizes the transformative power of disability-inclusive development, and calls on donor countries to commit 15% of ODA to disability-specific programming. 

The United Kingdom has signed on. Canada has not.

A Particularly Uncheery IDPD Post

This may seem like a particularly uncheery IDPD post. But I believe that IDPD is about so much more than including disabled people and recognizing our accomplishments.

I believe that IDPD is an incredible opportunity to acknowledge the disability community’s historic fight for recognition and justice, and to honour it by ensuring that disability rights and disabled people are meaningfully included in all aspects of our lives.

Disability rights, and all human rights, are not “nice to have.” They did not emerge because they are “the right thing to do.” 

Disability rights emerged as we tackled the systemic killing of disabled populations in Nazi Germany, the institutionalization of those labelled with intellectual disabilities, the disproportionate rates of casualties and fatalities in humanitarian disasters and conflicts.

Disability rights emerged and envisioned a better future for all. One where work is always voluntary and meaningful. Where healthcare is always appropriate and responsive. Where education is for everyone, and everyone has the right to live with dignity, autonomy, and respect.

On this IDPD (or, more likely, the days after it), I ask you all to go beyond surface-level acknowledgements that we exist.

Beyond glossy stock photos of a person in a wheelchair that you have never met going up a ramp. Beyond the aspects of disability you find comfortable, or positive, or marketable.

Because disability is so much more than that.

Disability is, quite literally, everything.

Honour our agency, our autonomy, our fight for progress by pledging to fight alongside us. 

We are all aware of disability. We are all only going to become more aware of disability. So move beyond awareness, and towards solidarity. 

Challenge yourself to think of disability beyond the usual realms of employment and education – to include disability in the important conversations you may deem too “intense” or “irrelevant” for us. 

And yes, that includes defence, diplomacy, and development. That includes economic security and trade negotiations. It includes everything you can imagine, and then, probably, a whole lot more.

Nothing About Us Without Us. Nothing Without Us. 

Thanks for reading and letting me try something new <3

Making Soup

In the limited light of a Friday November afternoon, I brace myself for the herculean task of making soup.

In the one hundred square feet of my studio sanctuary, soft jazz fills the silence. It’s not that I mind silence – I find myself craving it more and more these days – of all things, because I heard cows love it. Or, something about their nervous system loves it.

I set out the ingredients precariously – chicken broth and pasta stacked on top of my toaster. I found a rubber band in the toaster last week, ever so slightly smoking as it burned further into the metal grid. 

I said I wouldn’t stack things on top of the toaster after that, but I do. It’s too convenient not to. Or at least, it’s convenient for now.

The dutch oven carries so much weight, and I nearly take out a few ramekins wrestling it out from the back of the top of the fridge. With a thud, it lands on the stovetop burners I’ve been meaning to clean for months now.

Maybe next week.

I look at the mirepoix-to-be: carrots still going strong after a few days of fridgeratory isolation, celery on its last limbs and just passable to be cooked down and hidden in something larger. The onion, however, is brand new – hand selected from the masses at the grocery store last night coming home from school.

The onions will have to go in first, so I grab my dull kitchen knife and set to work. Some days I try to ignore the arthritis entirely, and other days it makes sure it is impossible to ignore. 

Proper knife technique is abandoned on the precipice of just getting things done. My whole upper body goes into halving the onion through the root, while shaky hands cautiously make horizontal incisions.

I think back to two years ago, when I had to cut off all my nails to avoid scratching myself up when I struggled to navigate the increasingly blurry divide between reality and nightmare. The scars I have on my hands were never consciously done by my own hands, but remain visible all the same. 

But now, I chop away – knife as comfortably as it’s going to be in hand. There is no more danger, no nightmares last night, only soft jazz and soon to be soup. 

The carrots are next, which consistently pose more of a challenge than the onions. Which is odd, because I always thought onions would be the hardest to get through. 

Onions, with their roots and layers and hard skin and soft skin. It turns out once you get to know it better, it was never difficult at all. It was the way you approached it.

Carrots used to feel easier. Peel away, chop off the head and tail, and cut it up. I don’t know if I’m growing weaker or these carrots are growing stronger, but my hands ache with exhaustion when I’m done.

The carrots follow the onions into the pot. Onions get a head start, which I soon realize is nonsensical. The heat and time wear the onion down and change its colour, but the carrots in all their stubbornness visibly remain the same. The carrots also seem to need twice as much time in the pot to soften, while the onions carry the burden of marginal overcooking. 

Next is the celery, and I can’t tell if I’m happy to put it to use on its last legs of life or if it feels like an unfair fight after the carrots. It’s soft, and straightforward, and too easy to cut through.

I’m so worried that I’ll become too soft and get cut right up and put into some soup that gets forgotten in a fridge and left to grow mold and die.

But I can’t stay a carrot forever. I don’t want to be a carrot. Impossible to cut through, requiring way too much time to soften, never changing shape, barely changing flavour. 

The crackling breaks me out of my weird, melancholic, vegetable thinking. Which is for the best, because I don’t want to personify the vegetables I will be eating later.

I’m not afraid of eating anymore. 

This dutch oven has a habit of overheating. The vegetables crisp up, the handles grow hot, and I routinely pick up the lid’s handle only to remember that yes, it is still hot. 

Why did I think it wouldn’t be hot this time?

I pour in a little extra olive oil and some pre-mined garlic. I’ll say I use it because some chef somewhere said it’s better for flavour – but I know it’s because my hands are tired. 

I don’t know why I’m so afraid to admit that I’m so tired.

I stir it all together, lifting vegetables at the bottom to the top. Everything is supposed to cook evenly, to get its turn cooking at the bottom or steaming at the top.

I pour in the chicken broth from the toaster coaster, as I have just decided to call it, and put the pot lid – less hot this time, though I forgot to check before touching it – back on and let it simmer.

Almost forgot – I’m supposed to throw in a parmesan rind at this point for “flavour.”

Between us, this initially sounded like some rich people shit. Parmesan is supposed to be the flaky little white stuff coming out of the shaker with an expiration date years past on it. It should not have rinds. 

So, I was pretty taken aback when just the discards of rich people cheese actually changed the flavour. 

What else didn’t I know growing up? What am I going to learn next? Are they going to find out I didn’t grow up like them? What’s going to give me away next time?

I restlessly get up off the couch and check in on my simmering soup early.

Simmering is an understatement – I forgot to take the lid off. I go back to that pot lid (the same one that is always hot, if you’re following along) – nope. I go back, grab a towel, and try again.

Everything is fine. A little extra heat never hurt anyone. 

I begin my hunt for this famous parmesan rind. Sorting through the mess of carrots, onion, and celery, I manage to weed it out. Sure enough, it looks boiled – little holes emerge, and I prod the new texture. 

Freaky little thing.

I take my handheld mixer (another kitchen secret these rich people have been holding on to) and indiscriminately blend everything together. 

The onion, no longer so hard to get through now that I know it better.

The celery, which ended up just as soft as all the others.

And the carrots, who in all their stubbornness must get the final say on the colour of my soup.

Oh, and the garlic. A low maintenance, last minute throw-in that brings it all together. 

Who is the garlic in my life? Who am I failing to appreciate and recognize in the moment? I am so scared I won’t realize how much someone means to me until they’re dead – again.

Everything blends together, and I now set it to boil on purpose. The recipe calls for pastina, but I’m convinced it’s some sort of italian way of messing with the rest us since I can never actually find it. The next smallest pasta I can find – ditali – will have to do.

With ten minutes of stirring ahead of me, I pull out and check my phone. Nothing.

It’s been like that for the last two years. 

Sometimes I regret telling people about what happened. I don’t know if it’s because they don’t know what to say, or if they pity me, or if they think I’m being dramatic.

But I do know that if I didn’t tell people what happened, if I chose to suffer in silence, I would probably be dead right now.

It feels like there’s this unspoken expectation that I’m supposed to be fine now. Hell, that expectation started 3 months after it happened. 

I think that’s when everyone realized I wasn’t going to get better anytime soon. And that was when the texts stopped.

Well, it still beats the alternative.

I get to work dismantling the rotisserie chicken, whose joints are just about as stiff as mine. There’s something meditative about systematically taking the chicken apart, making sure all the meat is put to good use.

There’s the usual line of thinking about how I weigh the chicken’s life below mine, now complimented by my recent realization I technically have hamster ovary cells inside of me and always will.

I think my brain has sectioned off the memories of being on all the hardcore arthritis drugs.

Microdosing chemotherapy throughout high school, steroids that made my face puff up and mouth taste funny for months afterwards, and the hamster-based biologics that altered how my immune system functions.

Still shaky and always freezing hands wrapped around the needle, clawing for any fat left around my stomach. The doctor threatened to take me off the meds if I didn’t gain weight. The needle goes in, but the initial adrenaline rush had run out months ago. Another Sunday injection, with side effects masked as Monday blues.

Yeah, I can’t blame my brain for suppressing that.

With the pasta cooked in the broth, I slide the chopped up chicken in and let it simmer (no lid this time). 

I already know this batch will be better.

The first time I loaded in too much chicken and pasta, trying to maximize nutrients and diversify food groups and ultimately making some sort of slop. Good, hearty, nutritious slop – but still slop. 

I’m not in a scarcity mindset anymore – I don’t have to be. Soup is just soup now, and I know there will be more later.

I sit down on the couch, frustrated that my body is so tired from something as simple as making soup. It’s a Friday afternoon, I should be gearing up for the weekend.

But with the rain, I told everyone I would be studying. And I will be. But I also won’t have it in me to do anything else. 

I don’t know why I’m afraid to tell people I’m in pain.

I think people know that I’m in pain anyways.

Whether they know or not, I worry they can sense that there is something wrong with me. That I have a lot of baggage. That I’m not being fully honest. That I’m hiding something. 

And I think that’s really taken a toll on everyone. 

I know that I need to open up and be honest to actually connect with people. I know that I’m the problem here. 

But I know what happened when I did tell people. And I’m so sick of it.

The pitiful looks, the self-censorship, the way people look at each other in a group when I say something “concerning.”

Or worse, when they finally get the answers they wanted so bad and decide it’s too much. Too much to believe, too much to handle, too much to care. 

It’s a trauma dumping catch-22 that I have no intention of participating in.

The smell of the soup settling on the stovetop begins to compete with the rain hitting the cement outside. I hope all of my Novembers smell like this.

The truth is that I am a happy person. Or at least, I think I’m a happy person. I love being alive and I love making soup – even when it hurts. 

I think the real issue is finding balance. I feel like an unwilling ping pong ball at times, bouncing between perfect days surrounded by good friends and never ending nights where I am haunted by everything I try to forget.

But then there’s other times, like making soup, where I feel everything all at once. 

When I find peace and purpose in chopping carrots, but feel the pang of frustration synced with the pain in my hands. 

When I settle into a quiet flow under soft jazz, but remember I had to research what kinds of music could help me manage my nervous system when it was convinced I was dying. 

When I remember I am in my beloved apartment that is full of so many happy memories hosting friends, but flash back to how I curled up in a ball on the same floor when the nightmares became too much. 

There is so much pressure to forgive and forget and let go of the past. There is so much pressure to overcome my disability and just act “normal.” And there is so much pressure to be everything to everyone while doing everything right all of the time. 

And I think that’s all bullshit.

Nothing about my trauma prevents me from experiencing joy now – but joy doesn’t make it go away.

Nothing about my arthritis is going to stop me from doing what I love – but I could never love something so much that I won’t feel pain.

Life is messy, and complicated, and never turns out the way you expect. And I think that’s part of what makes it so beautiful.

And soup is also messy and complicated – all you have to do is look at the state of my kitchen: a stray carrot peeling in the sink, broth splattered on the wall from the immersion blender, a stray piece of onion I’ll fish out from an unused burner later. 

But that mess doesn’t mean there’s no soup. 

There’s actually a lot of it. 

So I’ll turn up the jazz, breathe in some cold November air through the mesh window, grate more of that rich people parmesan over a heaping bowl of freshly made soup, and dig in. 

Surviving School: How the Education System Failed Me as a Disabled Student, and Why I’m Going Back Anyways

Albert Einstein allegedly said that “insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” 

Which is to say, I’m about to write a blog about how much K-12 and university education sucked as a disabled student just a few days before heading off to grad school.

Say what you will, no one is doing it quite like me.

By some miracle, spite, actual effort, or some combination of the three, I graduated from uOttawa summa cum laude (which is latin for big, big nerd) this Spring.

I’ve been told graduation is supposed to be this big celebration of your academic achievement or whatever, but that Spring I just kept telling myself “uOttawa can’t hurt me anymore.”

I’d like to think I was at least half-joking. 

While uOttawa gave me a fairly hard time, it would be unfair to say that my issues, grievances, and general disenfranchisement with the education system started in 2020 as I started my freshman year. 

No, they started 16 years ago on the first day of Grade 1, and they really haven’t let up since. 

I’m writing this blog for a few reasons:

  • One: it’s been a bit since I wrote a blog and the guilt has been eating me alive, so this topic feels like an easy target.
  • Two: with undergrad behind me, I figured I should actually process my relationship to education before heading off to grad school in a few days. probably should have done it sooner, but we ball nonetheless.
  • Three: while my career has largely focused on disabled post-secondary students, K-12 plays a major role in shaping which disabled students actually make it to university – and not having the capacity to work on that issue continues to haunt me every day of my life.
  • Four: there are so many kids out there right now that, just like me, are struggling through school in silence while navigating undiagnosed and invisible disabilities.
  • Five: there has yet to be a reckoning for K-12 administrations that target, bully, and push out their disabled students. yet.

With that being said, let’s get into it.

Grade School: Unwell, Undiagnosed, Unimpressed

My Secret Speech Impediment

Unless you’ve talked to me drunk or in French (or god forbid, both), you probably don’t know I had a speech impediment. 

Compound consonants like CH, TR, and SH (which, as you may know, are in a LOT of words) were a bit of a struggle for me. The CHs and TRs would get caught behind my nose and come out silently in an exhale, and I didn’t quite understand where to start to make my SHs not sound like SSs.

Naturally, this was a gold mine for bullying. They would ask me to say “beach”, and I would be confused why they were laughing in my face.

One of the best parts of growing up undiagnosed neurodivergent is that things like this went completely over my head. 

Luckily, by some geographical miracle, I was at a rich person school. And rich person schools have resources. Before I knew it, I was being whisked away from class to meet with some nice lady to play word games, and without realizing, the speech impediment faded away. 

With the speech impediment taken care of, I was able to generally exist as a normal student for the next few years. Yes, I was frequently thrown a textbook for the grade ahead and told to entertain myself during class. Yes, I was known to be very chatty and had to multitask at all times – but also a privilege to have in class. Yes, I could be a little problematic when I thought a rule was dumb or when I was overwhelmed by others making too much noise or not following rules. 

But, you know, normal student. 

Head Start/False Start on Mental Illness

And then, as it so often does, mental illness kicked in around Grade 5. 

I like to joke that I got a head start on the whole depression and anxiety thing as most people aren’t diagnosed until high school, and I guess that’s true enough. But I also genuinely believe we are dismissing so many mentally ill youth as “going through puberty” in a way that sets them up for failure when they finally do get diagnosed. 

Anyways, my head start with depression, anxiety, and an eating disorder would turn out to be a false start. It turns out, all of my symptoms would be explained 5 years later with the ADHD diagnosis we now all know and love. 

But at that time, I just felt like I had too many problems to have even the slightest clue where to start.

So, I went with the obvious response when you don’t know what to do. Withdraw. I started missing a lot of class, and on days when I did bother to show up, I would often leave around lunch.

By the time I got to high school, my mom gave me access to her attendance app so I could sign myself in and out at will. But before that, I had to go through the secretaries. And they sure made sure I had to go through them.

I will never know what possesses certain kinds of people to work in school administration, but I do know these kinds of people love to berate and belittle children. 

While I was clearly struggling, these secretaries decided to make fun of me to my face when I was at my lowest. I was 11. 

I’ll tell you, it definitely did not encourage me to come back to school.

High School: Diagnoses (Sometimes) Make a Difference

C+ for Effort

By the time grade 9 rolled around, I knew my body wasn’t exactly in peak condition. 

I would blame this on a past eating disorder, a lack of stamina from time spent in bed depressed, continued growing pains, and any other form of mental gymnastics I could think of at the time. 

But all these mental gymnastics simply could not help me with gym class.

My attendance had not improved since grade 5, and wouldn’t for another few years – so I wasn’t exactly shocked to receive a mid-term gym grade of C+. However, my average was going to absolutely tank if the C+ stuck around.

So, I talked to my gym teacher. She said that if she only marked me based on the days I was actually in class, I would have an A. 

On the days I managed to show up, I gave a great effort.

On the days I struggled through undiagnosed pain and mental illnesses to show up to school and get side comments on how I’m actually at gym today, I grit my teeth, pushed through the pain I couldn’t yet understand, and gave a class I cared nothing about everything I had. 

And that was worth a C+.

While I did a written assignment and pulled an end-of-term B+, that moment sticks with me. 

The teacher didn’t understand what I was going through, I didn’t understand what I was going through, but most importantly, the outdated graded attendance system didn’t care what I was going through. And it never will.

Oh, the Drama

Grade 11 Drama Class (taken in Grade 10 because my timetable was a nightmare) was a similar attendance-based issue. And let’s be fair, missing rehearsal without explanation did not exactly endear me to the teacher or my group members.

However, there’s a very clear line between consequences for your actions and teacher-sponsored bullying. 

Now, this teacher was equally famous and infamous. Get on her good side, and you’re set. Get on her bad side, you might as well drop the class and then drop dead. In that order. 

Things were looking particularly irredeemable for me until word got to this teacher that I had acquired a bright and shiny new diagnosis that suddenly made me tortured, interesting, and ultimately worthy of being a true artist: Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis.

Oh yes, with this revered title my absences had instantly become their own performances. My knee brace became a strategically placed costume. My now perfectly understood pain worth inexhaustible sympathy became the object of the perfect character study.

What a complete and utter switch-up from the woman who encouraged other students to gang up on me. 

I tolerated her the same way I tolerate plenty of people now. Focus on the good intentions, painfully smile at their pity, then metaphorically bash my head against the wall the second they turn their backs. 

You can bring a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.

You can explain your disability, but you can’t make them see you as equal. 

There Was This Dog in Math Class

Sometimes when people ask me how I got diagnosed with ADHD and I’m not in the mood for some nuanced or wise or enlightening or earth-shaking revelation about being diagnosed as a woman, I just say “there was this dog in math class.” Which isn’t entirely not true.

While there had been some exceptionally clear signs of ADHD from a young age, schools really do not care until your grades are dropping or you’re disrupting class.

And I had already tried disrupting class – they just thought it was funny!

So, it was time for the second approach. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was only good at school because it suited the way my brain functioned, and my brain only functioned that way because of the ADHD being socialized in a traditionally feminine way (aka do not create problems, figure it out yourself, never complain.)

This whole façade quickly dropped once Grade 10 math got to parabolas. (Which I have yet to use in real life.)

Now, I had study skills. I had perseverance. I was (I think) pretty smart. 

But there was something about that god damn parabola that altered my brain forever. Or better yet, how I perceived my own brain. 

My perfect little brain that went a thousand miles a minute and spit out any answer I wanted (more because of pattern recognition than actual intelligence) had become this evil malfunctioning machine that could not shortcut its way through understanding parabolas.

I hit a wall. A curved wall. Plotted on an x and y axis.

Now that my brain wasn’t being constantly fed easy content for analysis, it refused to focus on anything. Anything except a brown labrador that walked the block every day around 10am. 

You really can’t blame me for focusing on the dog. Without it, I was now conscious of the viciously loud and constant noise of my own brain that had finally met its match. 

I genuinely felt like I had officially gone crazy. That I was losing all my intelligence, and that all my future plans had gone up in smoke. 

(Can you believe the last section was about drama?)

Naturally, I refused to accept any responsibility for myself and went straight to the doctor. Surely, if my brain was broken, it could be fixed.

To her credit, my family doctor was way ahead of the curve on destigmatizing ADHD. I walked in, said I was having issues paying attention, and absolutely aced the test she gave me.

Apparently, you are not supposed to ace that test.

I went straight on the same meds I’m still on today, which without counselling or awareness was effectively like throwing gas on a fire. 

With more mental energy and focus, I was terrifying. Quick with a comeback, no tolerance for distractions, and deeply irritable when the outside world somehow drowned out my inside world. 

I’d love to pretend I figured out this whole concerta-sponsored irritability nightmare fuel pretty quickly, but it took until the COVID lockdowns for me to make peace with my own mind. 

But we aren’t quite there yet.

That One Time They Tried to Kick Me Out of High School

Even with the diagnoses, my attendance had not picked up.

This sounds deeply counter-intuitive, unless you’re familiar with the drugs used to treat arthritis. Microdosed chemotherapy, steroids, biologics that change the composition of your immune cells. 

One day I’ll rank all the drugs I’ve done for one of our more fun blogs.

By the time Grade 11 came around, I was struggling. The meds made me incredibly nauseous and constantly fatigued, to the point where I felt more zombie than human.

Apparently zombies are still under the jurisdiction of the school’s attendance officer.

Despite somehow still being a straight A student at this time (largely due to my teachers going above and beyond to email me assignments, shout out Doc Wat), the Vice Principal called my mom and myself in for a meeting.

Having absolutely no clue what was about to happen, I walked in with an open mind. To me, the attendance officer was just there to scare us into going to school – like an academic boogeyman. They didn’t have any real power.

Apparently they did. Again, despite being a straight A student, I was explicitly told I could no longer remain in mainstream schooling.

Oh yeah. A straight A student was getting kicked out of high school.

Luckily, I had no clue what was going on. And when this happens, I ask what the options are. 

In what would become a signature move, I quickly confused everyone in the room enough until I had exactly what I wanted: a customized Frankenstein education plan that would allow me to attend one morning class three times a week (conveniently coinciding with band practice, which I was holding on to for dear life), and meet with an itinerant teacher once a week at the public library.

I even managed to schedule the itinerant meeting right after the therapy dog session at our central branch. 

While I thought it was going to be completely embarrassing to be known as a semi-drop out at school, it turns out no one even noticed my Frankenstein’s monster of an education. People saw me at band practice and in the halls first thing in the morning, and just assumed I was in different classes.

I was getting away with murder.

And, thanks to Itinerant education, I was able to finally apply myself to the self-taught lesson packets and fly through courses way faster than I had any right to – ultimately freeing up additional spares for my final year of high school, which I planned on attending full-time.

Magnum Opus

By some miracle, things were actually looking up my senior year of high school. We had 20/20 vision we would joke, as the upcoming 2020 seemed so clear…

I had speed ran countless arthritis treatments until finding a manageable balance of methotrexate (microdosed chemo) and Enbrel (a biologic that apparently has me banned from donating blood the rest of my life.) My ADHD meds were working. I was somehow, slowly, starting to feel better.

Was my attendance the first semester perfect? Absolutely not! This was still me we’re talking about. But it was better – and everyone noticed.

At this time, I was also taking the Grade 12 Creative Writing course. While I had enjoyed English classes way more than my peers, I had never really considered myself much of a writer. I really only took it because I needed a credit, it fit my schedule, and everyone’s favourite teacher taught the course.

Somehow, I actually started to like creative writing. With an ADHD brain that was becoming less nightmarish by the day, and that teacher openly sharing his own experience with ADHD, it became almost fun to apply my “new” brain to creative challenges. 

Parabolas still weren’t my thing though.

The biggest creative challenge I faced was developing my own end-of-year independent project, which he called a Magnum Opus. While I initially rolled my eyes at the assignment and pretended not to care, something genuinely awakened inside of me.

My end-of-year project (which I still will not refer to as a Magnum Opus) was a poetry book called Body Betrayal – which paired poems on ADHD and arthritis with pantone colour swatches and a custom Spotify playlist.

Writing it was cathartic, and reflective, and challenging, and enriching, and allowed me to finally put years of silent struggle into words for the very first time. 

And as you can tell, once I started to put my experience with disability into words I have never really been able to stop.

The Best Semester Ever and Nothing Will Go Wrong, Obviously

Now, the first half of Grade 12 was my best academic performance yet. But that was before I was finally old enough to receive treatment for my fibromyalgia.

The difference was instant and obvious. I had my brain back. I had my body back. I had my life back.

I went to school. First one day at a time, then a whole week. 

While the other kids had stopped making fun of my attendance when they found out about the whole arthritis thing, they had now taken to cheering me on. 

Then another week went by.

Still there.

Another.

I made it 40 days. 

40 whole days without a single absence. An unimaginably low bar for some, and an unimaginably high bar for me. 

Everyone wanted me in a group project, now that they knew I would show.

While my band director was initially apprehensive about me becoming section leader given my past absences, he went on to select competition pieces based around my section who were improving by the day. 

And to think, just a year ago, they tried to kick me out of school.

And then – you know what’s next – we were about to have the longest March break in history. Three weeks of vacation, with no homework or tests or makeup classes!

March break ended up being a lot longer than three weeks…

University

I’ll keep this section short, since a lot of it has been documented already and I don’t want to beat the dead horse.

(Horse, GG, uOttawa? Give me some credit here folks.)

Also, like most of my blogs, this is getting pretty long.

Despite the pandemic, I moved to Ottawa in September 2020 to begin the first year of my undergraduate program in International Development, assuming class would be moved in-person in a few months and I would not have to brave an upended housing market at full demand.

While online school lasted longer than anyone imagined, it turned out to be the perfect set-up for me, personally speaking. 

Chasing the interrupted academic high of the second semester of Grade Twelve, I was able to completely throw myself into my studies – without wasting time and energy on things like commuting and meal prepping. 

I quickly learned that if I turn my camera off during Zoom lectures, I would quickly do anything but pay attention. So, I became the one person in every lecture with her camera on. Worse, I nodded to signal I was paying attention and to inconspicuously stim.

By my fifth year, I was still known as the girl who had her camera on.

Around halfway through second year, uOttawa began transitioning to hybrid courses – allowing students to choose between attending online or in-person.

Thriving under online classes but aware I was probably missing key psychological milestones, I was able to gently ease myself into the demanding lifestyle of university education and began to enjoy in-person classes.

That was, until there were only in-person classes.

Despite spending thousands of dollars on equipment and training staff on how to use hybrid equipment, it feels as though post-secondary education as a whole continues to have a hybrid amnesia. 

I have documented the betrayal, and the rage, and the frustration I felt at this time. And I am very comfortable not revisiting it.

But one thing I haven’t explicitly visited is the disconnect I felt between reality and academia. 

Despite studying international development (improving health, education, and employment outcomes for the most marginalized) and conflict (the most mass-disabling man-made event to date) – neither program adequately acknowledged disability, let alone meaningfully incorporated it.

While I was very lucky to have peers and profs encourage me to incorporate disability in assignments, class discussions, and group projects – I felt incredibly disenfranchised and disillusioned. 

How could I possibly care about these studies that don’t care about me? 

How can I consider this education worthwhile when there are such glaring knowledge gaps?

To make matters worse, I was working my dream job with the National Educational Association of Disabled Students. My day job was disability, my personal life was disability, I was disabled. 

There was no escaping disability, unless you looked in any course syllabus.

Despite this, I convinced myself that a solid academic background in international development and human rights would help my career in disability. And it already has. But the whole time, I had to push through this overwhelming feeling that this program, this field, this career path I had my heart set on was just not meant for me. Not meant for people like me.

Reader, this is obviously melodramatic bullshit dredged up from some of my lower moments. This field is very much so for people like me, and everyone is about to get real disabled from conflict or climate change or communicable diseases anyways. Basically, I’m way ahead of the curve.

But that doesn’t erase how abandoned I felt. So, I lashed out the way any rational person would: I got way too into my job.

Professors, if you are reading this, I am so sorry. None of this was personal. But I was pretty much working non-stop during every lecture. 

Was I paying attention? Yeah! 

Was I taking notes? Absolutely! 

Were many other students distracted because I was putting together a marketing plan or instagram advertisement on my laptop? Definitely.

This heavy dependence on multitasking to juggle a technically impossible workload would later result in burnout so bad I had to quit my job, but I’m gonna save that topic for a later date.

At this point, if you’re still reading because wow this is getting long, you might be asking “how was your attendance?” 

To which I would answer, “bad, but for new reasons!”

In what can only be described as perfect irony, I was missing a lot of class to go to other universities and talk to disabled students about their experiences as part of my work for NEADS. And I mean a LOT of class.

I also got struck down by a fun new mystery disease in my final year, which turned out to be Hashimoto’s – an autoimmune thyroid disorder. Turns out autoimmune disorders are not like chicken pox…

Between this and an absolutely shot immune system from years of immunosuppressants, a particularly bad case of flu led me to miss 30% of classes – or $900 in tuition. 

I feel sick writing that.

Of course, graded attendance was coming back to bite me in the ass too. As if nearly $1k in educational losses wasn’t enough. 

Half of my classes that final semester had graded attendance, and I had a nerdy average to maintain. To this day, I have no clue how I pulled it off. Desperation, Dayquil, spite? 

My thoughts and feelings on graded attendance remain the same, so I’ll just leave you with this conversation:

Prof: “You were an excellent student. I just wish you were at more classes, you always had something to contribute.”

Me: “[Prof], I wish I was at more classes too.”

Grad School: The Definition of Insanity

Returning to the alleged Einstein quote (which turns out is very contentious but there’s no way I’m changing the intro now), you’re probably baffled as to why I can write all of this about the state of education and all the many ways in which it has failed me – just to go to grad school in a few days.

How I can come back from that gym class C+, or missing 30% of my final term of undergrad.

How I can dive right back into an academia which ignores, excludes, and exploits disability.

Because those moments and others’ (in)actions don’t define me. 

Because I genuinely love nerding out about economics, and governance, and human rights, and yes, disability. 

Because I found a program that lets me finally embed accessibility and disability into my studies. With actual courses, not just DIY leg work.

Because I get to attend the most disabled university in Canada, if not the world. 

And because education is supposed to be for everyone.

This Fall, I’ll be attending Carleton University for a Masters of Arts in Political Economy, with a specialization in Accessibility. 

I’ll take classes on social policy, and universal design, and the politics of health care, and lots of other nerdy stuff!

I’ll TA classes on international development, and maybe be the representation I never had. 

And for the first time in 8 years, I’m going to put school first. 

I have effectively put my career in the disability non-profit sector on hold to either be the definition of insanity or to challenge it.

Which is terrifying, and nerve-wracking, and exhilarating.

And I can’t wait. 

Canada at the CRPD Committee

Welcome to the final instalment of the Blogging to Berlin Series, where I attempt to cram as many blogs on Canadian disability rights and accessibility legislation as I can right up until my plane takes off for the Global Disability Summit.

While I was originally going to keep it to three blogs, Canada’s recent appearance before the UN Committee on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities in Geneva is simply too good to leave out. Unfortunately, the whole process is honestly super confusing and hard to summarize – but that’s what I’m here for!

So buckle up, because I’m going to do my very best to explain what Periodic Reporting is, summarize key reports to the Committee, share some highlights from the actual hearing, and suggest some practical next steps in anticipation of the upcoming Concluding Remarks.

Trigger Warning: Brief Mentions of Disability Rights Violations (Institutionalization, Sterilization, Detainment, Forced Treatment, Medical Assistance in Dying)

Ratification

Before we get into the Periodic Reporting process, we’ll need to start with understanding how ratification works. Stay with me.

When a country signs on to a UN Convention, they become a State Party – which means they accept certain obligations and responsibilities detailed in the Convention they just agreed to follow.

Once a country is a State Party, they must begin the ratification process: this means domestic actions that incorporate the international convention into a country’s law. This can be done in a few different ways. 

Most effectively, States can ratify international law through a large, national bill like the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Act, which explicitly makes all articles of the international law legally binding in Canada!

More commonly, States will pursue a patchwork approach of reforming old, outdated laws and introducing programs and policies designed to gradually implement more of the Convention domestically. In Canada, we’ve seen initiatives such as the Disability Inclusion Action Plan and Canada Disability Benefit address parts of the Convention, with varying degrees of success.

Additionally, courts at all levels can choose to claim rights provided by international conventions, even if they haven’t explicitly been incorporated into domestic law yet. Once a court rules in favour and recognizes rights from an international convention, future rulings must take note of this and more often than not comply. 

(For my international friends, Canada has TWO legal systems and I do not have it in me to get into it here.)

Periodic Review

Alright, let’s start with our key players.

As part of its obligations as a State Party, and to help with the ratification process, signatories to the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (CRPD) must submit a report detailing their ratification progress to the Committee on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities and attend an in-person committee hearing in Geneva.

The Committee also considers reports from National Human Rights Institutions (NHRIs) and civil society organizations, both of which can also attend the committee hearing in Geneva. 

Some countries, including Canada, will fund a coalition of civil society organizations to develop a “Parallel Report”. While funded by the government, they do not control or guide any of the content – which means that Parallel Reports are often more critical than the official government report!

Now that we know our key players, let’s attempt to break down the periodic review process:

  1. After the previous Periodic Review, the Committee issues a number of Concluding Observations. These will highlight impressive areas of progress, note continued or new areas of concern, outright condemn certain government actions, and provide a number of highly relevant and useful suggestions for the State Party to work on implementing.
  2. After a few years (COVID-19 messed up the scheduling), the Committee will inform the State Party its due for a Periodic Review, and share a List of Issues Prior to Reporting. This List covers all articles of the CRPD, and requests information from the State on what they’ve done to implement certain clauses. 
  3. Once the State Party has received notice and the LOIPR, they begin developing their Report to the Committee. The Report must answer every single issue or question raised by the Committee in the LOIPR with concrete examples and in-depth references.
  4. National Human Rights Institutes (NHRIs) and Civil Society Organizations (CSOs) will also generally begin work developing their own reports to the Committee at this time – but much of the work for civil society occurs in response to the published State Party report.
  5. With all reports finalized and submitted to the Committee, the government sends a delegation to Geneva for the hearing. This often includes high-level bureaucrats and provincial officials, with federal political officials’ participation greatly fluctuating. 
  6. During the hearing, the Committee questions Canada on its ratification progress – drawing from the government’s report, the NHRI report, and CSOs reports. The hearing is livestreamed, and the questions and responses are all summarized and published online.
  7. Following the hearing, usually within 1-2 weeks, the Committee will issue their Concluding Observations – and State Parties are expected to get right to work implementing their suggestions!

Deep breath, we made it. 

This whole process was INCREDIBLY confusing for me at first, but I hope this boils it down into a more approachable step-by-step explainer! 

In summary, Periodic Reviews are when the CRPD Committee questions a country on how it is implementing the CRPD, and provides recommendations for future action. 

NHRIs and CSOs are invited to the party to provide a critical perspective and supply additional information, but it’s mostly a dialogue between the country reviewed and the Committee.

Background Information That Is Important I Promise

Because previous Concluding Observations and the List of Issues Prior to Reporting basically shape the structure and content of a country’s Report and its review, I’m going to attempt to break down what you need to know.

Canada’s last Periodic Review was in Spring 2017 (the 2021 Review was postponed because of the pandemic, they didn’t ditch anything I promise!) – which means this Report worked with Concluding Observations from 2017!

In terms of key concerns, the Committee criticized Canada for continuing to uphold substitute decision-making, where non-disabled people speak for disabled people without their consent. Canada has been incredibly stubborn about reforming their guardianship laws in favour of supported decision-making, which is essentially just a more accessible and inclusive approach to how disabled people navigate the legal system.

The Committee also criticized Canada on a number of key issues: institutionalization, segregation of disabled children in school, the involuntary detention and treatment of psychosocially disabled people, and coerced and unwanted sterilization in medical settings.

The suggestions were fairly straightforward: remove outdated laws, develop monitoring mechanisms for MAiD and institutionalization, publish national policies on inclusive education and employment, and create a CRPD implementation monitoring body with full participation from civil society. Remember these suggestions, because you are definitely going to see them again, and again, and again.

Flash forward to 2019, when the Committee provides Canada with its List of Issues Prior to Reporting. There’s a lot of overlap with the Concluding Observations (suggesting slow progress towards ratification) – so I’ll focus here on more in-depth or new points raised.

By 2019, the Committee had really embraced an intersectional approach to ratification, and paid particular attention to children, women, migrants, asylum seekers, indigenous persons, and 2SLGBTQIA+ persons with disabilities. 

Additionally, the Committee had generally been pushing all States to pay more attention to persons with intellectual and/or developmental disabilities, and autistic people – noting they were often excluded from disability rights-based programs. 

There was also a clear emphasis on the need for quality, timely, disaggregated data on disability – which generally means recent, relevant, appropriate, accessible data that examines how different groups of disabled people are impacted by issues differently.

In Canada, our survey on disability occurs every 5 years, and largely focuses on employment, education, income, and housing for persons with disabilities ages 15 and up. And while it occurs every 5 years, the general public is still working with the 2017 Survey, as more recent ones are behind what I am told is a SEVENTY THOUSAND DOLLAR PAYWALL. 

Do you have seventy thousand dollars? I don’t! 

(If you do hit me up though…)

The Reports!

I know what you’re thinking – “how are we STILL not at the hearing?” But you’re reading this. Imagine writing this. My whole day is cleared. 

I will say this, though: the Reports are where the majority of the work and content is. These are lengthy, nerdy, in-depth reports with tons of data and references and sources. They are also incredible resources to inform your own advocacy work, projects, and briefings – if you have it in you to trudge through them.

If you don’t though, you’re in the right place! Hopefully. 

While any civil society organization can submit a report to the Committee for their consideration, I’ll focus on Canada’s report, the Canadian Human Rights Commission’s (CHRC) Report, and the civil society working group Parallel Report.

I’ll also be opting more for a vibe check than a comprehensive breakdown, because if I even attempt to do that, I will have a comprehensive breakdown.

So here goes.

Canada’s Report (Read Here)

Canada’s Report, as required, responds to the Committee’s List of Issues Prior to Reporting with all the work they’re doing to implement the CRPD.

However, in true Canadian fashion, some believe the Report glossed over key issues and chose to emphasize the more positive aspects of ratification, instead of explicitly noting where there is significant room for improvement. 

As Canada uses a identify, remove, prevent approach to remove accessibility barriers at the federal level, this lack of identification is frustrating.

Further, the majority of examples of implementation were from the provinces. Now, this makes sense to a certain degree: provinces in Canada are responsible for key areas like education, employment, and disability income supports. 

However, there was a clear emphasis on provincial actions that prevented a better evaluation of federal initiatives. This can also be seen by some as the federal government pushing responsibility for CRPD implementation onto the provinces.

While I could go into all the federal initiatives underway (but won’t), I do want to note that some of the initiatives mentioned as CRPD ratification did not explicitly include disability, but emphasized intersectionality.

Here’s why this is different, and why it’s important. 

While disability is an identity factor and a marginalized group part of intersectionality like all other equity-denied groups – disability is the only group requiring modifications to the built environment, processes, and procedures. 

These modifications often require additional financing and organizational flexibility, and disability-specific needs are rarely addressed by a “regardless of” approach. 

It’s great that I’m entitled to services regardless of my disability. But it’s a completely different thing to be able to access services that accommodate my disability. 

I’ll leave it there for the Canada Report, but I would encourage you to read it if you have the time and capacity to see what areas the federal government is prioritizing, and what programs it chose to highlight.

Canadian Human Rights Commission’s Report (Read Here)

My initial impression of the CHRC Team was already very positive – they’re incredibly personable, responsive, and cooperative, and I wouldn’t say it’s a stretch to claim that they’re well respected by civil society.

But this positive impression went absolutely through the roof when I read their report.

Now, I want to make this clear: the Commission is small. And underfunded. And tasked with monitoring CRPD implementation without the capacity to effectively to do so. 

So while their overall monitoring of CRPD implementation is obviously not where we want to be (and I don’t think they want to be there either!), this report goes HARD.

Three things stand out to me: 

  • how the Commission is able to be critical in a constructive way
  • how they reference specific events and reports for increased accountability
  • and just how well formatted and communicated their findings were

Hear me out on that last point: you can be doing the best work in the world, but it doesn’t help anyone if you aren’t communicating it. 

If you read any document referenced in this blog, read the Commission’s report.

The Commission hits the usual suspects: employment, education, decision-making, community living, income, and so on. 

But they also highlight some interesting areas: how disabled people disproportionately experience homelessness, how systemic discrimination creates a higher unemployment rate, how the climate crisis disproportionately impacts disabled people, and how PWD are over-represented in prisons. 

The Commission also included its own recommendations for Canada’s ratification throughout the Report, so here are a few of my personal favourites:

  • Canada must address systemic barriers to accessible education, including a more comprehensive approach to accommodations and learning supports, and coordination to end the use of seclusion and restraint. 
  • Canada must improve timely access to appropriate and effective mental health and addiction care in a holistic way, including through poverty, housing, and food insecurity relief.
  • Canada must ensure services for Indigenous people with disabilities are equitable, adequate, and culturally appropriate – based on their distinct culture and identity and provided within their communities.

I also just love how they call out Canada’s patchwork approach to CRPD ratification, and call for a foundational structure for monitoring and implementation with full participation of civil society. 

Canada loves to say it punches above its weight in international affairs. I will now be co-opting this to say that the Canadian Human Rights Commission is the real one punching above its weight. 

Civil Society Parallel Report (Read Here)

Full disclaimer, I got to be a part of this one!!

As I previously explained, the government funded a handful of organizations to create a working group of civil society organizations tasked with developing this Parallel Report.

Our internal process consisted of sub-working groups for each Article, feedback from all working group members, further edits, and final submission to the working group secretariat. 

I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to lead our sub-working groups on Article 8 (Awareness-Raising) and Article 21 (Access to Information) – and more importantly, so grateful that my colleagues had enough faith in me to let a then-21 year old lead this work!

(Yeah, it was a long process.)

Process aside, I want to highlight the extensive use of footnotes to elaborate on ideas, link to concrete actions, and cite references. If you check it out yourself, you’re gonna see it’s like 60% footnotes. 

Why? Because civil society submissions have a limited word-count – but the word count does not include footnotes. 

(We had a field day, what can I say.)

Fortunately for me, the Report summarizes its key themes itself: 

  • increased funding and individualized services enabling independent living in dignity
  • developing an effective CRPD-specific ratification monitoring mechanism with civil society
  • and the need to abolish harmful and outdated laws such as institutionalization, forced treatment, and Track Two MAiD (solely on the basis of disability, not foreseeable death)

The Report also offers its own recommendations for further implementation:

  • Enact a comprehensive national action plan to implement the CRPD in coordination with PT governments and disabled persons organizations, including legislative reform and increased investments in disability services.
  • Ensure youth with disabilities are engaged, and that their feedback is reflected in the development, implementation, and monitoring of the laws, policies, programs, and services concerning them. (I didn’t even write this one!)
  • Repeal Track Two MAiD, and investigate and fully address the root causes and systemic inequality driving PWD to seek MAiD.
  • Abolish all legislation violating and denying the decision-making rights and legal capacity of persons with disabilities, in favour of a well-resourced framework facilitated supported decision-making.
  • Replace discriminatory legislation, policies, and practices facilitating detention, discipline, and coercive and involuntary treatment based on impairment or disability in favour of a human rights-based approach that prioritizes self-determination.

The Actual Review

Alright, home stretch. We made it through the reports. We are finally at the CRPD Committee hearing. 

If you’ve made it this far, congratulations.

Delegation

In my opinion, you can tell a lot about a country’s priorities based on who they send to different conferences, negotiations, and reviews.

This year, Canada’s delegation was headed by Elisha Ram from Employment and Social Development Canada (who is absolutely lovely to work with by the way), and included representatives from a handful of federal government departments – Indigenous Services, Refugees and Citizenship, Statistics, Global Affairs, Heritage, and Justice. 

3 of 10 provinces (Manitoba, Saskatchewan, and Québec) also sent representatives – which is odd, when you consider 8 of 10 provinces have accessibility legislation.

Notably, there were no federal-level political officials. Quite honestly, I’m not the most knowledgeable about this whole prorogation thing, but I’m pretty sure Ministers could still attend events and reviews in their official capacity. 

However, with the government’s political party leadership race and an upcoming federal election, I’m not shocked they chose to emphasize domestic priorities.

(Learning about electoral incentives has permanently altered how I approach advocacy work. Someone please remind me to write a blog on that one day.)

That being said, Canadian civil society made the trip – with representatives from Arch Disability Law, Inclusion Canada, the Canadian Council on Rehabilitation and Work, the National Network for Mental Health, the ASÉ Foundation for Black Canadians with Disabilities, and so on. 

And this was despite the Zero Project occurring about two weeks earlier in Austria, and the annual UN Conference on the Status of Women in New York occurring at the same time!

Proceedings

While the proceedings occurred through two 3-hour sessions, they are surprisingly hard to summarize.

I first want to highlight how iconic the CRPD Committee is, quite honestly. Markus Schefer and Rosemary Kayess in particular did not hold back – and weren’t afraid to call Canada out for resorting to prepared statements and not constructively engaging in dialogue (which they did, more than once!)

Of course, Canada’s nominee to the CRPD Committee, the incomparable Dr Laverne Jacobs, was excused from this hearing. Which means I’ll have to watch another committee hearing to watch her in action – from her tweets alone, I hear she also isn’t afraid of asking the hard questions.

Going back to the governmental delegation, the reliance on prepared statements was frustratingly felt throughout the proceedings. While some statements were relevant, well-delivered, and informative (shoutout Catherine Ivkoff’s points on climate change and gender-based violence) – there was this very odd disconnect that I believe really limited how relevant, and even transformative, these hearings can be.

The usual suspects were again brought up: education, employment, MAiD, disability poverty, data collection, and decision-making. However, there were also less expected discussions on the role Canada plays in weapons exportation and mass disabling armed conflict, the decision not to appeal the Québec MAiD ruling to the Supreme Court, and how Canada’s immigration system continues to discriminate on the basis of disability.

One moment that particularly caught my attention was when, after Canada shrugged off a number of questions on the basis of federalism, multiple committee members from federalist countries called them out. 

This process is really important and serious, of course – but hear me out: a courtroom-like drama about CRPD Committee hearings. We just need a little editing, because the drama was there. I felt like I was watching RuPaul’s Drag Race with some of the (well-delivered and serious, of course) clap backs. 

Again, very serious process. However, we could call it awareness-raising.

Back to the actual hearing, I don’t really have any insightful takeaways here. While the Committee asked some great questions, there was a lot of overlap from the LOIPR and 2017 Concluding Observations. Not their fault, of course, but it shows how slow implementation progress can stall more innovative action and prevent timely responses to emerging issues.

What’s Next?

So glad you asked. 

We’re now waiting for the CPRD Committee to issue their 2025 Concluding Observations – which provides a fantastic resource to government in guiding future policies and initiatives, and an even better resource to civil society in their advocacy work.

However, again because of slow implementation, I’m honestly not expecting anything too exciting. What needs to be said has been said, several times, in many different formats. 

These Periodic Reviews are very much what the country makes of it: if they commit to authentic and honest dialogue and focused implementation strategy, they’re going to get more niche questions and illuminating insights.

If a country treats these PRs like PR (public relations), relies on prepared statements, and shrugs off important questions – it’s going to get very repetitive, very fast.

Now, obviously, I am all in favour of Periodic Reviews. Even if they get repetitive, it provides a wealth of documented evidence on government action or inaction – and can help chart the rise and fall of government attitudes and priorities towards disability. 

Looking at the CRPD Committee’s line of questioning and recommendations already published from the CHRC and CSO reports, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to expect Concluding Observations around a monitoring and enforcement mechanism, a national implementation framework, a shift towards supported decision-making, appealing Track Two MAiD, an inclusive education strategy, and a deinstitutionalization framework. 

(Note to self: create Concluding Observations Prediction Bingo Card.)

But that’s what should be done. Based on the current state of Canadian politics, here are my suggestions on what could, more feasibly, be done. 

With the recent abolishment of the Ministry of Persons with Disabilities, the Disability Advisory Group is now without a home and may potentially cease to exist. Further, with no Minister dedicated to disability, more ministers may be expected to incorporate disability into their own mandates.

I see this going one of four ways: 

  • one ministerial advisory group shared between several ministers
  • a handful of smaller and more specific ministerial advisory groups 
  • re-introducing the Standing Committee on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities from the 90s
  • abandoning a consistent and predictable approach in favour of one-on-ones and ad-hoc consultation processes

While the Committee, CHRC, and civil society have all repeatedly called for a CRPD-specific implementation body, the government appears quite insistent that the Federal-Provincial-Territorial Human Rights Forum is adequate. (I have been, and it is not.)

With this continued refusal to support a federal body, here are a few alternatives:

  • civil society can attempt to build a working group monitoring CRPD implementation among themselves, though this is particularly challenging with uncertainty around non-profit funding in this economy
  • the Canadian Human Rights Commission – if granted additional funding past their initial 5-year package (taking a moment to reflect on how wack it is they have to apply for additional funding for such a critical mandate) – could host quarterly roundtables with civil society organizations to at the very least discuss CRPD implementation
  • the FPT forum can host ad-hoc roundtables specifically on the CRPD, and make an increased effort to invite Disabled Persons Organizations

In terms of the legal need to repeal certain laws, such as substitute decision-making and psychiatric holds (involuntary detention of the psychosocially disabled), this again can go a number of ways:

  • without adequate public and electoral pressure, the government will not act on recommendations to appeal laws violating the CRPD
  • with enough pressure, the government could pursue parliamentary reviews of these laws with some consultation of civil society
  • with enough funding and capacity (which is already so strained), disability organizations could pursue Charter Challenges against these outdated laws

Carly Commentary

And there you have it, the final feature of our Blogging to Berlin Series. 

I won’t lie, this was way too much fun. 

The Series was a result of a policy brief I developed for both participants at the Global Disability Summit wanting to learn more about Canada’s disability rights and accessibility legislation, and myself to ensure I could speak to Canada’s disability rights landscape from a more informed perspective. 

But it then became something much more than that.

Policy, programs, and legislation at any level impact our lives. Yet for so many of us, we find the whole legislative process too difficult to follow and contribute to. And for disabled people, we often aren’t even consulted in the decisions that impact us.

When I started work at NEADS (love you guys), I had the very unique privilege of getting to dive into disability rights and legislation as part of my paid employment. And from this opportunity, I was increasingly able to leverage policies and legislation to support our advocacy work. Now, I get to use it to share where Canada is at with delegates from around the world!

Call me a nerd all you want, but learning about provincial, federal, and international law gave me the confidence I need to better represent myself and my community. While they may just be words on a page to some, to me, they represent undeniable claims to fundamental rights and freedoms. 

But it’s bigger than just policy: accessible education and awareness is empowering. And all too often, it’s hidden behind paywalls, or embedded in way too wordy documents (if you thought this blog was bad, check out some of the raw legislation), or just not properly advertised. 

Canada, as part of its CRPD obligations, has a responsibility to educate the public on disability rights and share information in an accessible way. In my opinion, this is the most important step to ratification. 

When we know our rights, we can claim them. When we know what is possible, we can achieve it.

So thank you for making your way through the Blogging to Berlin series, and bearing with me as I balance the more nerdy advocacy work with the fun stuff!

You can definitely expect a more personable post-Berlin update summarizing how the conference went, and some (hopefully!) fun and informative blogs as I try something new and take a few months off of work this Summer to spend time with family and prepare for grad school.

Federal Accessibility Legislation in Canada

Welcome back to the Blogging to Berlin series, where I try to cram in as many blogs as possible before the 2025 Global Disability Summit!

I’ll be so honest – this was supposed to be the last blog in the series. However, Canada’s review by the United Nations Committee on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities is simply too good to ignore.

So make sure to stay tuned for that, or to see if I can survive midterms on top of all of this advocacy work! Whatever floats your boat.

With all that being said, I am very excited to get into federal disability and accessibility legislation across Canada! This blog will cover the Canadian Human Rights Act, the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, the multiple bills around Medical Assistance in Dying (MAiD), the Accessible Canada Act, and more!!

Trigger Warning: Medical Assistance in Dying

1977 Canadian Human Rights Act

Read Here

The CHRA is best known for prohibiting discrimination against a number of protected groups – including on the basis of disability, age, race, and sex. More recent court interpretations have also expanded this clause to include gender identity and sexual orientation, reflecting how the Act is able to evolve to meet the times.

The Act prohibits discrimination against any of its protected groups in terms of employment, goods and services, accommodations, compensation, and policy. AKA, everyone deserves equal access to everything.

As disabled people face unique accessibility barriers around the built environment, the Duty to Accommodate is most often referred to when detailing what employers, business owners, and policymakers must do to ensure persons with disabilities have that equal access to all aspects of life.

Of course, whenever there is a duty to accommodate – some people will try to get out of it. The Act outlines that there must be a bona fide reason to not provide the accommodation on the basis of health, cost, or safety. A bummer it has to be included, but very much so time saving as the bar to not accommodate is quite high!!

The Act also created the Canadian Human Rights Commission, and the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal. These two institutions are central to human rights-based legislation at the federal level. The Tribunal is the highest human rights court in Canada, and often presides over high-level human rights cases that have made their way through the lower courts. The Commission takes on a wider variety of tasks, including the monitoring of the implementation of the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (CRPD)!

1982 Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms

Read Here

The Charter was introduced as part of a larger effort to update Canada’s 1867 Constitution and further cement its independence from Britain.

While many Canadians are familiar with the 1982 Constitution Act that introduced the Charter, fewer know that the Charter is only Part I of the Act – with the second Part recognizing and affirming Indigenous treaty rights!

The Charter itself guarantees all sorts of fundamental freedoms, democratic rights, mobility rights, equality rights, and official and minority language rights to everyone residing in Canada.

The Charter is the overarching law in Canada, and proposed or enacted laws can be challenged through “Charter Challenges” – when people argue that the law violates any article under the Charter.

This means that the Charter effectively acts as an important safeguard to ensure all future laws honour the key values of the entire country, while ensuring the safety and inclusion of protected groups.

Section 15 of the Charter, like the Canadian Human Rights Act, provides equality rights to protected groups on the basis of race, ethnicity, mental or physical disabilities, and more. Interestingly, sub-section 15 (2) allows for discrimination when it benefits protected groups, such as targeted employment programs or women-only spaces.

And maybe even more interestingly (or frustratingly) – disability was almost excluded from the Charter.

You heard me. They almost passed the Charter without including disability as a protected ground.

Why? (GREAT question!)

They argued that disability was “too vague”, and would cover too many people. To which I immediately point out that sex would protect 50% of Canadians!

However, thanks to the tireless efforts of the disability community – including a protest on Parliament Hill led by what is now know as the Council of Canadians with Disabilities – the committee drafting the Charter would finally give in.

As someone who grew up with the Charter, I think it is so important for us all – disabled and not – to realize just how close we were to passing this landmark document while excluding disability.

Disability rights have always been precarious – and just because they’re now included in our Charter, doesn’t mean we can stop fighting to ensure disability rights are respected, protected, promoted, and fulfilled by the courts.

2016-2020 Medical Assistance in Dying Provisions

MAiD is legally complex – and I will not pretend to be an expert on it! But I have pieced together a timeline of the rulings and Federal Acts that have brought us to where we are today.

The 2015 Supreme Court case Carter v Canada ruled that physician-assisted suicide must be decriminalized, to provide equal access to end of life and to ensure the liberty of persons.

To fulfill this SCC-required change, Bill C-14 introduced MAiD as an option for those with reasonably foreseeable deaths seeking physician-assisted suicide in 2016.

However, in 2019, the Superior Court of Québec ruled in Truchon v Attorney General of Canada that MAiD discriminates against disabled people without reasonably foreseeable deaths.

Shockingly, this ruling was accepted at the provincial level – meaning the Attorney General chose not to appeal this decision for the Supreme Court of Canada to review!

Instead, the government introduced Bill C-7, which expanded the eligibility criteria as required by the Truchon ruling. This expansion is generally referred to as “Track Two MAiD”.

As MAiD expansion began, Parliament had to study who would become eligible under potential future interpretations of the law, what safeguards were in place, and the potential impacts it would have on the wider public.

A particularly controversial route of expansion was to provide MAiD to those solely with mental illnesses, including “mature minors.” After significant public pushback, Bill C-39 permitted the delay of further MAiD eligibility as required by Bill C-7.

As you can see, MAiD did not come around in the same way as other disability and accessibility legislation did. Instead of a conscious government effort to create legislation, bills around MAiD were reactions to court rulings.

2019 Accessible Canada Act

Read Here

The 2019 Accessible Canada Act is a key component of Canada’s CRPD ratification strategy, and builds upon the commitments Canada has made by signing onto the CRPD.

The Act sets out a goal of realizing a barrier-free Canada by 2040, and applies to areas of environment, the built environment, transportation, communication, information and communication technology, the design and delivery of programs and services, and procurement.

The Act mainstreams the principles of dignity, equal opportunity and participation, meaningful choice, disability considerations and consultation in policymaking, and striving for the highest level of accessibility.

Virtually all federally regulated entities are subject to the ACA, and must publish both accessibility plans and progress reports within a 3-year cycle. As of 2024, government departments and crown corporations have completed their first accessibility reporting cycle! These Accessibility Plans and their progress reports are available to the public, as well as an anonymous feedback mechanism.

The Act also created the Chief Accessibility Officer, the Accessibility Commissioner, and Accessibility Standards Canada.

The Chief Accessibility Officer is tasked with advising the Minister on accessibility and providing updates on the completion of accessibility plans, while the Accessibility Commissioner operates out of the Canadian Human Rights Commission and is able to issue fines and legal warnings to departments failing to comply with the Act.

While the Act can seem very nerdy and restrained to the federal fishbowl, as I like to call it, it has actually been a very impactful tool with a wide scope of impact!

Requiring every federal department – such as Environment and Climate Change Canada, Employment and Social Development Canada, and the Justice Department – to identify their own accessibility barriers and identify concrete plans to remove them on an ongoing basis means that the programs and services they provide to Canadians will become more accessible and disability-inclusive over time!

2023 Canada Disability Benefit Act

Read Here

The 2023 Canada Disability Benefit Act aims to address the pervasive poverty impacting working-age Canadians with disabilities through enacting a federal monthly direct cash transfer, on top of provincial disability supports.

The Act required that the Government enact regulations detailing the development and delivery of the benefit within 12 months, and that two progress reports detail commitments to engaging and collaborating with the disability community.

The proposed total amount of $6.1 Billion for the Benefit was introduced in the 2024 Federal Budget, and the proposed $200/month amount and Disability Tax Credit eligibility requirement was fiercely protested by the disability community.

Interestingly, this budget line included a clause I’ve never seen before that explicitly states the overall $6.1 budget line cannot be increased. Despite this clause in the budget, consultations largely revolved around raising the rate and removing the DTC requirement.

Despite the consultations, the Canada Disability Benefit Regulations came into force on March 3rd, 2025, identical to what was promised in the 2024 budget despite extensive consultations.

Federal Accessibility Standards & Regulations

Learn More

Accessibility Standards Canada was created by the Accessible Canada Act and mandated to coordinate technical committees responsible for drafting accessibility standards for consideration to become legally enforceable regulation.

ASC is Canada’s first majority disability-led federal entity, with the Board of Directors and Technical Committee both required to maintain a disabled majority to ensure appropriate and diverse representation in the policymaking process!

ASC has successfully completed draft standards on accessible-ready housing, emergency measures, outdoor spaces, plain language, and the built environment, and successfully published standards on employment and Information Communication Technology (ICT).

While the standards and regulation process is particularly nerdy, legally-enforceable standards (regulations) will require the removal of many pervasive and persistent accessibility barriers.

Further, the technical committees bring together incredible disability advocates with lived experience and in their own areas of professional and academic expertise to ensure the standards include a wide variety of considerations!

Carly Commentary

While I had the bullet points laid out, I generally wrote this bad boy in bed with the flu. So I’m 50% sure it will make some sense.

Generally speaking, it so interesting how Canada consistently emphasizes accessibility over disability. Of course, accessibility is the entry requirement of inclusion – but when the Americans with Disabilities Act is just over the border (for now…), it makes you wonder why our approach was so different.

The whole federalism thing is also on my mind. Canada is a massive country with a lot of regional differences and considerations – so it makes sense a lot of the work is devolved onto the provinces. However, I am shocked at the lack of required collaboration and coordination.

More importantly, most Canadians don’t follow the legislative process. It’s a confusing process that took me years to learn how to follow. And I was only able to pick up that skill because I had the time, funding, and energy!

One of the reasons I am such a policy/legislation nerd is because I want to help more Canadians understand their rights, the legislative process, and how all of these bills impact their everyday lives.

So I hope this blog could help you better understand the federal disability and accessibility legislation in Canada, how it came to be, and how it impacts you day-to day!

(I am going back to sleep now.)

Provincial Accessibility Legislation in Canada

Welcome back to the Blogging to Berlin series, where I try to cram as many blogs on disability rights in Canada as possible into the remaining weeks until the 2025 Global Disability Summit!

This week, we’re travelling coast to coast (for my international friends, Canadians LOVE saying this) and exploring provincial accessibility legislation across Canada!

Spoilers: 8/10 provinces have enacted accessibility legislation. Quebec was WAY ahead of the curve back in 1978, and New Brunswick only recently joined the party in 2024!

(Fun Fact: NB was SO recent I wrote this entire blog and had to revise it when I found out New Brunswick does have legislation during my fact-checking process…)

I won’t make you google it: Alberta and Prince Edward Island have yet to enact provincial accessibility legislation. But shockingly, it’s actually not that straightforward!

Alberta has embedded accessibility considerations into their National Building Code and enacted the Office of the Advocate for Persons with Disabilities, while PEI has their Supports for Persons with Disabilities Act – but that just generally outlines what all provinces provide for disabled people anyways.

If someone from PEI can explain to me what on earth is going on there, that would be sick.

With all of that background aside, let’s get into this provincial legislation!

1978 Act to Secure Handicapped Persons in the Exercise of Their Rights with a View to Achieving Social, School, and Workplace Integration

Read It Here

  • Quebec was the first province to pass disability-specific legislation, and the only province to have disability-specific legislation for over 25 years!
  • This Act emphasized the importance of disabled persons’ right to be fully integrated into society, and the responsibility of government departments and agencies to ensure this integration. 
  • The Act is based on principles of wholeness, autonomy, living in the community, built environment accessibility, ensuring the availability of relevant and appropriate resources, and a decent quality of life.
  • The Act created an Office to ensure coordination and implementation, with a board majority-led by persons with disabilities.
  • The Act requires the provincial government to ensure policies and programs are accessible and disability inclusive, that school, social, and workplace environments are fully integrated, that individualized services are appropriate and available,  and that accessibility standards are developed and enforced.

Carly Commentary: While I think it’s a shame more Canadians can’t speak French and enjoy everything Quebec has to offer – it keeps this province as a hidden legislative gem. Quebec is the only province to have legislation revolving around disability instead of accessibility, and did this only one year after the Canadian Human Rights Act was introduced!

Also, don’t dunk on them for using ‘handicap’ – there’s really no great French alternatives for disability. But for my bilingual friends, personnes en situation de handicap is the more appropriate term these days – which is basically just “person experiencing disability” for the anglophones out there.

2005 Accessibility for Ontarians with Disabilities Act

Read It Here

  • The AODA aims to develop, implement, and enforce accessibility standards across Ontario in the areas of goods and services, accommodation, employment, facilities, and buildings to promote the inclusion of persons with disabilities.
  • The Act facilitated the creation of legally-enforceable standards for information and communications, employment, transportation, customer service, and the design of public spaces.
  • The Act has been criticized for its emphasis on accessibility over disability, for its lack of substantive content, and for the general lack of enforcement of the related accessibility standards. 
  • While the Act promised a barrier-free Ontario by 2025 – Ontarians report persistent and pervasive barriers around employment, businesses, education, transportation, and healthcare.

Carly Commentary: Boo! Tomato, tomato! Jokes aside, this is the perfect example of an accessibility law with no “teeth” – aka enforcement measures. The province has essentially decided not to enforce any regulations except for making most of us take their poorly developed Customer Service training – and as someone living in Ontario, I can report we did NOT become barrier-free by 2025. I’d be shocked if we can beat the (much more catchy) federal goal of barrier-free by 2040 at this rate.

2013 Accessibility for Manitobans Act

Read It Here

  • The third province to introduce provincial accessibility legislation, and the first to explicitly incorporate the CRPD into provincial law, Manitoba enacted its Accessibility Act in 2013.
  • The Act is based on principles of barrier-free access, equality in opportunity and outcome, universal design, and systemic responsibility to prevent and remove barriers. 
  • The Act creates a Minister for Accessibility, an Accessibility Advisory Council, and a body establishing accessibility standards that apply to the public and private sectors.
  • The Act successfully facilitated the publication of standards covering customer service, employment, information and communication, transportation, and the design of outdoor public spaces.
  • The Act has been celebrated for its use of clear timelines, the application of standards to the private sector, and consistent collaboration and consultation with the disability community.

Carly Commentary: I think I might actually be Manitoba’s #1 fan because of their accessibility legislation and disability community. I have lost track of how many times I point to Manitoba as a legislative best practice, and their Accessibility Office is a dream to work with! I’ve actually done two speaking engagements in this province – which, population wise, is totally hitting above its weight.

2017 Act Respecting Accessibility in Nova Scotia

Read It Here

  • Nova Scotia’s Accessibility Act aims to improve accessibility through the implementation of accessibility standards, and ensure the inclusion of persons with disabilities in this process.
  • The Act creates a Minister responsible for accessibility, an Accessibility Directorate, and a majority-disabled Accessibility Advisory Board mandated to coordinate the province in improving accessibility and addressing emerging issues.
  • The Act veers towards a more minimal approach to disability areas, including the delivery and receipt of goods and services, information and communication, employment, education, the built environment, and public transportation and transportation infrastructure – though this would be the first mention specifically of public transit.
  • The preamble is particularly impressive given the explicit admission that persons with disabilities disproportionately experience poverty, and that attitudinal and environmental barriers prevent full and equal participation in society. This makes the lack of guiding principles particularly unfortunate. 

Carly Commentary: I give this legislation one “womp, womp.” Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE Nova Scotia – Cape Breton is literally my home away from home, and the home of Canadian folk artist and arthritic icon Maud Lewis! In fact, Nova Scotia is the most disabled province at 37.9% (source)

Which brings me to my real question – what the hell are they doing in Nova Scotia??? This legislation was very bare bones, and pretty much copy and pasted from Ontario. For our most disabled province, with a great culture of knowing your neighbours and helping out your community, I would expect a lot more.

I actually went back to re-review the legislation to see if I could squeeze out any more bullet points around notable features. I found that the preamble was fairly decent in terms of a progressive understanding of disability – but this only made the lack of guiding principles even more noticeable.

2021 Accessible British Columbia Act

Read It Here

  • BC’s Accessibility Act identifies a Minister responsible for publishing an annual accessibility report detailing provincial accessibility efforts and appointing an individual to conduct independent reviews, and requires the provincial government to establish a majority-disabled accessibility committee.
  • The Act also empowers the Lieutenant Governor in Council to create regulations around identifying, removing, and preventing barriers in the areas of employment, service delivery, the built environment, information and communication, transportation, health, education, and procurement. 
  • The Act promotes principles of inclusion, adaptability, diversity, collaboration, self-determination, and universal design in pursuing greater accessibility.
  • British Columbia was the first provincial Act to provincially recognizes American Sign Language and Indigenous sign languages, and the only province that explicitly requires the consultation of Indigenous peoples in accessibility standards development.

Commentary: BC was the first province to officially recognize sign languages, AND still the only province to meaningfully ensure consultation with Indigenous persons and nations directly in the legislation. Now, BC does have a very organized Indigenous population and a number of self-governance treaties they’re legally bound to recognize, but you would expect more provinces (looking directly at you again, Nova Scotia) to follow suit here.

2021 Newfoundland and Labrador Accessibility Act

Read It Here

  • Newfoundland and Labrador’s Act aims to improve accessibility by preventing, identifying, and removing barriers to facilitate persons with disabilities’ full participation and inclusion in society.
  • Similar to BC, this Act also requires accessibility standards addressing the built environment, information and communication, procurement, education, health, employment, and the design and delivery of programs and services. Notably, Newfoundland and Labrador include accommodations as its own clause, but exclude transportation. 
  • Newfoundland and Labrador also recognize American Sign Language and Indigenous sign languages as official languages for the deaf community.
  • The Act tasks the designated Minister with raising awareness around barriers, promoting the identification, prevention and removal of barriers, overseeing the development and implementation of accessibility standards, and ensuring appropriate consultations. 
  • The Act creates a majority-disabled Accessibility Standards Advisory Board, a Disability Policy Office, and standard development committees.

Carly Commentary: At this point in the analysis, I kept convincing myself I was just re-reading the Accessible Canada Act. Mandating a minister, creating a board, publishing standards – all great stuff! I just would have loved to see a better regional vibe here. You’ll notice transportation is missing from this legislation – that’s no mistake, because the terrain out there is notoriously difficult to get around, disabled or not!

2023 Accessible Saskatchewan Act

Read It Here

  • The second latest province to enact accessibility legislation, Saskatchewan’s Act aims to increase accessibility through the development of accessibility standards identifying, removing, and preventing barriers in the built environment, information and communications, employment, transportation, procurement, service delivery, and service animals – making it the first province to include service animals in provincial accessibility legislation. 
  • The Act designates a Minister tasked with raising awareness of barriers and promoting improved accessibility, creates the Saskatchewan Accessibility Office, and establishes a majority disability-led Accessibility Advisory Committee.
  • The act bases accessibility efforts on the principles of inclusion, adaptability, diversity, collaboration, self-determination, and universal design.
  • The Act recognizes American Sign Language and Indigenous sign languages as the primary languages of communication by deaf persons in Saskatchewan.
  • The 2023 Act is the first to explicitly require accessibility standards to ensure the CRPD is considered during development.

Carly Commentary: Again, we’re pretty deep in the analysis and everything looks the same. But then you get a stand-out win, like Saskatchewan requiring CRPD considerations in standards, and perk up a little bit! I’m also loving the accessibility principles, but my Day One Homie Manitoba did it first.

2024 New Brunswick Accessibility Act

Read It Here

  • The most recent province to enact accessibility legislation, New Brunswick takes the standard approach of mandating a minister to oversee accessibility, requiring the development of accessibility standards, and establishing an Accessibility Office.
  • New Brunswick is unique, as its standards include the usual transportation, education, employment, built environment, and information and communications – but swaps out program and service design and delivery with government services, while introducing both housing and sports and recreation. 
  • Instead of an official advisor or chair of a board, New Brunswick opted for a Director of Compliance and Enforcement inside of their Accessibility Office! This is an intriguing break from the usual approach, and I look forward to seeing if this changes the implantation process.
  • New Brunswick requires the establishment of an Accessibility Advisory Board, but reverses the provincial trend of requiring a majority disabled board in favour of “persons with disabilities, persons who work on behalf of persons with disabilities, or members of provincial agencies or provincial branches of national agencies that work on behalf of, or represent, persons with disabilities,”
  • New Brunswick also requires that accessibility standards comply with the CRPD, continuing the trend introduced by Saskatchewan!

Carly Commentary: Reading this legislation was an emotional rollercoaster. The introduction of housing and sports/recreation under accessibility areas was exciting! Then, lumping in non-disabled people working in disability was pretty disappointing and a direct reversal of a promising trend. But then, New Brunswick continued the positive trend of requiring CRPD compliance in accessibility standards! All of this to say, this is definitely a province I’ll be watching over the next few years.

Key Takeaways

As I get really nerdy in school and further studying institutional economics, I’m learning about path dependency – where your past or present actions shape future ones. For me, a critical juncture was when Canada chose to opt for accessibility-focused legislation over disability rights legislation, despite Quebec’s progressive disability-centred law from 1978, and the Americans with Disabilities Act in 1990 setting a clear precedent for impactful legislation. While I know that this legislation is actively removing accessibility barriers – I wonder how our country will look, if we achieve that barrier-free Canada by 2040 without a parallel shift in including and empowering persons with disabilities.

Another nerdy thing I noted was just how intriguing the differences in accessibility areas are between provinces! What made Nova Scotia include transportation, while Newfoundland and Labrador steered away from it (no pun intended?) Why would Newfoundland and Labrador include accommodations as a distinct area, on top of employment and education? Why has only Saskatchewan mentioned service animals, and what made New Brunswick include sports and recreation for the first time?

I am particularly impressed by the legislative requirement to ensure accessibility standards organizations and advisory committees are majority-led by disabled people. We’ve seen Accessibility Standards Canada absolutely thrive under this approach, so I’d love to think they played a key role encouraging the provinces to follow suit. However, this makes me look down on New Brunswick just a little bit more for including non-disabled people as adequate substitutes for disabled people. Luckily, they could be just the third-last province to enact legislation, so I don’t see them significantly deterring this pattern of mandated representation in the long-run.

But most importantly, overall, I was shocked by how similar the provinces’ accessibility legislation was. I mean, these bills were enacted by political parties of all different stripes. And while I would love to see disability become a non-partisan issue, this more likely suggests that governments are pursuing the bare minimum of accessibility without accompanying expansions in disability income supports, employment programs, and educational services.

Timeline of Disability Rights in Canada

Welcome to the Blogging to Berlin Series! With less than a month until I fly out to Germany for the 2025 Global Disability Summit, you can expect to see a LOT more blogs on disability rights, legislation, and monitoring in Canada!

As I gear up for grad school, this blog also marks the start of me acting on my commitment to create accessible, open-access resources on the more nerdy aspects of accessibility and disability – to help my disabled peers out there understand and claim their rights!

To get things started, I wanted to share a timeline of disability rights in Canada that I had the privilege of developing as part of my work as Communications & Partnerships Director for the National Educational Association of Disabled Students (NEADS). I have so much love for this organization and the work they do, so make sure to check them – and their incredible scholarship program – out!

While I did my best to cover key events in this timeline, disability history is changing and evolving every day! Don’t be afraid to drop a comment or shoot me an email if you’d like to see something added – and I’ll make sure to credit you 🙂

Trigger Warning: Institutionalization, Sterilization, Segregation, Murder, Medical Assistance in Dying

1800s

With widespread trust in state and church-run institutions and unchallenged ableist discrimination, disabled people are institutionalized in segregated residential settings without their consent – leading to mass human rights violations including forced sterilization, abuse, and murder.

  • 1839: The British Government passes An Act to Authorize the Erection of an Asylum within its Province for the Reception of Insane and Lunatic persons
  • 1850: The Provincial Lunatic Asylum is opened in Toronto, becoming the first Canadian mental institution
  • 1876: The Asylum for Idiots and Feeble-Minded (later renamed the Huronia Regional Centre) is opened in Ontario – there are now 1440 unmarked graves and 571 numbered graves on this site alone

1950s

Following WWII, disabled veterans and civilians band together to demand improved disability services, mainstream inclusion of disability, and the end of institutionalization.

  • 1918: War Amps is established to support returning veterans who experienced amputation as a result of battle injuries, becoming one of the first organizations for persons with disabilities
  • 1928: The Alberta Government passes the Sexual Sterilization Act, which gave the Alberta Eugenics Board authority to force those living in government-run institutions into sterilization without consent or awareness, becoming the first part of the British Empire to legislate involuntary sterilization – BC would follow suit in 1933 with the Sexual Sterilization Act of British Columbia
  • 1955: The Saskatchewan Association for Community Living forms and becomes the first organization to call for deinstitutionalization
  • 1958: The Canadian Association for R*tarded Children (now the Canadian Association for Community Living) is formed to advocate for improved education and services for children with intellectual disabilities

1970s

Thanks to the advocacy work of growing grassroots disability organizations, the 1970s saw governments slowly introduce legislation to cement progress.

  • 1974: Nova Scotia amends its Human Rights Act to prohibit discrimination against the physically disabled
  • 1975: The Ontario Government creates the disabled-led Ontario Advisory Council for the Physically Handicapped
  • 1976: Provincial disability groups band together to create the Coalition of Provincial Organizations of the Handicapped (COPOH) – now known as the Council of Canadians with Disabilities
  • 1977: The Canadian Human Rights Act passes and prohibits discrimination on the basis of disability, amongst others, with disability defined as a previous or existing mental or physical disability, including disfigurement and drug/alcohol dependence 
  • 1978: Quebec’s Act to secure handicapped persons in the exercise of their rights with a view to achieving social, school and workplace integration

1980s

Disability issues rapidly build momentum to become a significant federal priority – but legislative progress is threatened by neoliberal cuts to social services.

  • 1980: COPOH protests on Parliament Hill to demand inclusion in Charter, after policymakers argued disability is “too vague” to include
  • 1981: Thanks to civil society’s advocacy efforts, the Parliamentary Committee drafting the Charter unanimously agrees to include disability under Section 15
  • 1981: The federal government releases The Obstacles Report – advancing 130 recommendations for improving accessibility and inclusion with emphasis on disability leadership and supporting self-help
  • 1982: The Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms prohibits discrimination on the basis of disability
  • 1985: The Canadian Human Rights Act bans discrimination on the basis of disability, and requires federally regulated employers to provide accommodations
  • 1986: The Employment Equity Act comes into force to address employment barriers faced by women, visible minorities, Indigenous peoples, and persons with disabilities
  • 1987: The House of Commons establishes a Standing Committee on the Status of Disabled Persons under the Mulroney Government

1990s

Under an increasingly neoliberal and globalized economy, the Federal Government introduces several domestic initiatives to mainstream disability.

  • 1991: The federal government publishes the National Strategy for the Integration of Persons with Disabilities, a 5-year plan to integrate disabled people into society and the economy
  • 1996: The federal government appoints a Federal Task Force on Disability Issues
  • 1997: The federal government establishes the Opportunities Fund for Persons with Disabilities to their (self) employment
  • 1998: The federal government publishes In Unison: A Canadian Approach to Disability Issues that largely focuses on disability supports, employment, and income

2000s

The disability rights landscape explodes under landmark Supreme Court rulings, the introduction of further accessibility legislation, and the signing of the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities – but fades from federal agendas.

  • 2001: The federal Office for Disability Issues is established to coordinate policies and programs across federal jurisdiction
  • 2001: The Ontarians with Disabilities Act passes and requires the provincial government eliminate barriers, despite limited enforcement measures and scope
  • 2001: The Supreme Court hears R v Latimer, ruling that Latimer’s murder of his disabled daughter Tracy is not justified
  • 2003: The Supreme Court of Canada hears Starson v Swayze and rules that Starson had the right to refuse psychiatric medication because the Consent and Capacity board had insufficient evidence
  • 2005: The Accessibility for Ontarians with Disabilities Act comes into force to develop accessibility standards around goods, services, employment, and the built environment
  • 2006: The federal government releases the Federal Disability Report and announces plans to create a National Disability Act
  • 2007: Canada signs the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (UN CRPD)
  • 2007: The Supreme Court of Canada hears CCD v Via Rail, siding with the Council of Canadians with Disabilities
  • 2008: The Canadian Transportation Agency ordered Air Canada, Air Canada Jazz and WestJet to adopt a 1P1F policy for persons with severe disabilities
  • 2009: The final three institutions for persons with intellectual disabilities in Ontario are closed, including the Huronia Regional Centre

2010s

The CRPD renews efforts towards mainstreaming disability, and more provinces join Quebec and Ontario in enacting accessibility legislation!

  • 2010: Canada ratifies the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (CRPD) as it enters into force
  • 2012: A landmark Supreme Court of Canada ruling says mentally disabled adults can give reliable court testimony
  • 2013: Manitoba passes the Accessibility for Manitobans Act, and later implements a series of accessibility regulations around employment, transportation, outdoor spaces, and more
  • 2015: The Supreme Court of Canada rules in Carter v Canada that the Criminal Code must be amended to decriminalize physician-assisted suicide for persons with disabilities, known as Medical Assistance in Dying (MAID)
  • 2016: Bill-C14: An Act to amend the Criminal Code and to make related amendments to other Acts (medical assistance in dying) comes into force, exempting physicians providing MAID from criminal prosecution
  • 2017: Nova Scotia passes An Act Respecting Accessibility in Nova Scotia
  • 2018: CBC’s “Deadly Force” report documents all known police executions in Canada from 2000-2017, identifying that over 70% of those killed had mental health and/or substance use issues
  • 2019: The Accessible Canada Act passes, introducing requirements for federally-regulated bodies
  • 2019: The Superior Court of Québec rules in Truchon V Canada that the eligibility criteria of “reasonable foreseeability of natural death” was unconstitutional and required wider eligibility for all persons with disabilities

2020s

Despite significant setbacks from the COVID-19 pandemic, provinces continued to enact legislation as the federal government continues mainstreaming efforts.

  • 2020: Bill C-7: An Act to amend the Criminal Code (medical assistance in dying) is introduced in Parliament in response to the 2019 Quebec Court ruling
  • 2021: British Columbia passes the Accessible British Columbia Act
  • 2021: Newfoundland and Labrador pass An Act Respecting Accessibility in the Province
  • 2022: The Disability Inclusion Action Plan is published, emphasizing finance, employment, and communities
  • 2023: Saskatchewan passes The Accessible Saskatchewan Act
  • 2024: The Canada Disability Benefit Act enters into force, requiring the government to begin delivering this federal income top-up within 12 months.
  • 2025: The Canada Disability Benefit Regulations are published, detailing a maximum amount of $200/month and eligibility criteria requiring a burdensome Disability Tax Certificate.

Sources

  • The “Unfit” in Canada: A History of Disability Rights and Justice, Shanthiya Baheerathan and the DJNO Youth Action Council (2019) (Link)
  • People with Disabilities Significant Historical Events, Inclusion Canada (Link)
  • Disability Rights Movement in Canada, The Canadian Encyclopedia (2015) (Link)
  • Council of Canadians with Disabilities: 48 years strong and “On The Road to 50 Years”, Council of Canadians with Disabilities (2011) (Link)
  • Accessibility legislation, standards, and regulations in Canada (2024), BDO Canada (Link)
  • “Legislative Background: Bill C-7: Government of Canada’s Legislative Response to the Superior Court of Québec Truchon Decision” Justice Canada, 2021 (Link)
  • “Medical assistance in dying: Legislation in Canada” Health Canada, 2024 (Link)

4 Great Reasons to Stop Giving Chronically Ill People Unsolicited Advice

Chronic illnesses can be so diverse, complex, and confusing that it should be difficult to find a universal experience.

However, thanks to the notorious phrase “have you tried yoga?” and its seemingly infinite variations, we as chronically ill people have all shared the universal experience of receiving completely unsolicited advice on how to “cure” our illnesses. 

These seemingly well-intentioned suggestions can come from complete strangers at the grocery store, very loose acquaintances at school or work, or even from your closest friends and family.

No matter who they are, or where they came from, the second they know about your chronic illness they immediately transform into the Absolute Expert Authority on exactly what you need to do to cure your chronic illness.

Forget med school, white coats, and stethoscopes – the real experts are speaking.

Their qualifications? Don’t worry about it!

Regardless of who they are and what they know about you, they come armed with one hyper-specific, magic bullet remedy that is guaranteed to Completely Fix And Cure You If You Just Commit And Do It Right. 

They see the Random Woman With Unexplainable Knee Brace, That Kid With Arthritis Who Is Definitely Too Young To Have It, and That Weird Guy Who Walks Funny and spring into action with their groundbreaking, medically proven, undeniably effective, sure to work cures of turmeric, turmeric and black pepper, swimming, yoga, Pilates, mindfulness, and losing weight. 

How grateful we must be, how cured we must be, how Not Disabled we must all be by now, thanks to these well-intentioned saviors. Right?

Wrong!

Regardless of the reasoning and intentions behind offering unsolicited advice, we as a society need to knock it off for four main reasons:

One: We do not know these people!

Two: We do not know their illnesses!

Three: We do not know their lives!

And most importantly, Four: We need to stop trying to cure them!

As I have humored countless recommendations, humor me as I explore these four reasons a little further. 

(Let’s be so real with ourselves, if you’re reading this you probably already know better than to offer unsolicited advice to anyone – but let’s just give it a go anyways!)

Reason #1: You Do Not Know This Person

This reason goes out to all the strangers who insist they Know What Is Best For Us – “Us” being everyone, or just specifically you (and no, I can’t tell which one is worse). 

Innocent, well-intentioned, sympathetic strangers – please ask yourself, why do you feel qualified to tell someone else how to live their life? How to manage their illness? How to cope with pain?

If you really reflect on why you’re offering unsolicited advice to the chronically ill, you most likely won’t find the sympathy you thought you had – you’ll just find pity.

There is an incredibly long and continuing history of non-disabled and non-chronically ill people insisting that they are the experts on disability and chronic illness.

And while this largely applies to doctors and service providers, you’ve been swept up in it – most likely, without even recognizing it!

Can you imagine how patronizing it is to be told by someone without lived experience how we are supposed to act, think, and feel? 

Can you imagine how belittling it is, when someone believes you don’t know what is best for yourself? 

And can you imagine how exhausting it is, kindly pretending to accept your advice that we know isn’t going to work for us?

(Do me a favour, and try to fight that urge to ask “but how do you know it isn’t going to work?”)

Yes, we appreciate you want to help us. But ask yourself why you believe we need to be helped – why you believe there is something wrong about us. 

Reason #2: You Do Not Know Their Illness

This reason is for those among us who have been possessed by the Spirit of Medical Excellence and Supreme Knowledge the second they saw someone existing outside of what they believe to be the norm – despite a complete lack of medical qualifications. 

Chronic illness is complex illness.

And because it can be so complex and confusing, some people are desperate to whittle it down into something simple, easy to understand – and curable.

And I really do believe people choose to oversimplify chronic illness because they’re scared, because chronic illness is inherently not easily understandable.

And I think this is something that we as chronically ill people could do better to speak more on. To share that we’re scared and confused, too.

That it’s scary and confusing to not understand what’s going on in your own body, and to not know what to do to fix it.

That it is weird that our conditions can come and go, flare and enter remission, and look different from day to day.

That we don’t actually fully understand what’s going on ourselves.

However, if we, the people with the chronic illnesses, don’t know what’s going on – those without them definitely don’t know either. 

Now, if the emotional appeal didn’t get you – let me try with two examples.

The first is for those who insist they understand the complexities of chronic illness, and are still qualified to provide advice on cures, treatments, and symptom management:

Before I even reached age 18, I had microdosed chemotherapy, done a month’s worth of steroids, and regularly injected myself with white blood cells taken from chinese hamsters’ ovaries.

Even with advanced scientific breakthroughs, medical professionals, and intense treatments – I still had arthritis. The experts could not – and still have not – come up with a cure.

If the experts can’t cure me, you definitely can’t cure me either.

If chemo, steroids, and biologics didn’t scratch me – turmeric isn’t going to do what they couldn’t. If it could, Big Pharma would have already monopolized it. 

For those who insist chronic illness is fairly straightforward, easy to understand, and even easier to treat: 

For six weeks, seemingly out of nowhere, I was getting violently ill nearly every day. I couldn’t keep food down. I was ditching work and school because I felt so sick.

I became convinced I had developed a new, bonus inflammatory disease.

Do you know it actually was? (No, you don’t. Stop that.) Sun-dried tomatoes.

I had developed an intolerance to sun-dried tomatoes because of my fibromyalgia meds – which are literally just low-dose anti-depressants. Microdosing anti-depressants made me intolerant to sun-dried tomatoes. 

Sure, chronic illness can appear simple.

And I would say sun-dried tomatoes are a fairly simple food.

But we are not working in a simple, straightforward environment.

Simple things become very complicated, very quickly.

If you haven’t caught on yet, there is a LOT going on with my body. 

It’s like a moving jigsaw puzzle, where the pieces are constantly changing shape. And it’s also in 3D.

And you’re putting it together in zero gravity.

And you’re probably in a murky lake filled with piranhas.

And sharks. 

But if you just want to see it as a 24-piece puzzle, go for it!

Don’t let the piranhas bite you on the way out.

Or the sun-dried tomatoes. 

Reason #3: You Do Not Know Their Lives

This reason is for those who ambitiously aim to make the world in their image, who truly believe that everyone could be perfect if only they acted exactly like them. 

These people often take great care of themselves and (dare I say, obnoxiously) reap the benefits, leading to an unwavering belief in Their Specific Cure That Will Help Everyone Ever.

They often live by an “if I can do it, you can do it” attitude – and can even come from our own chronically ill ranks.

A devastating betrayal (not the doing well part, the going from receiving to giving unsolicited advice.)

This reason is most frequently invoked by unsolicited advice to exercise – yoga, swimming, Pilates, cardio, you name it.

And while these activities can be helpful, The Proponents aggressively push a one-size fits all model that will shame you if you don’t literally get with the program. 

And getting with this program can be incredibly hard, for so many different reasons.

(The Proponent’s excuse alarm is probably going off really hard right now. Breathe. Especially if you’re trying to make me do yoga.)

As chronically ill people, so much of our time is already consumed with the invisible administrative work of having a disability (appointments, para-transit, navigating support programs) – and a lot of us are working multiple part-time, unpredictable jobs to make ends meet.

This leaves very little time left to specifically get exercise in.

Most of us also deal with chronic pain and fatigue that absorbs so much of our energy! 

Spoon theory literally exists just to explain how excessively exhausting “normal” tasks are for us – for example, while taking a shower is one spoon (unit of energy) for a “regular” person, it could be five spoons (units of energy) for a chronically ill person!

On top of this increased need for spoons, we often start with less spoons than non-chronically ill people.

(For some reason the spoons in a fishbowl, so I’m gonna leave the metaphor here.)

The point is, so many of us don’t even have the time or energy for our daily tasks – let alone for an additional, energy-intensive task like exercise!

Here, the Proponent will either get very angry with you, or start clamoring to explain how exercise will reduce pain and increase energy in the long run. 

Proponent, you have a point. (Got you there, huh?)

But unfortunately, many chronically ill people genuinely do not have the time and energy to immediately spare, even when they understand exercise could help them in the long-term. 

There’s a great example about winter boots when explaining the economics of poverty that might help break through to the Proponents among us:

When you’re at a low, fixed income, you have to buy the cheap winter boots knowing it only lasts one winter – because that’s all you can afford. 

(No Proponent, you can’t take out a loan! The bank doesn’t care about you!) 

But over time, you end up spending so much more on cheap boots every year, than if you just bought the well-made expensive ones in the first place. 

But that’s the economics of poverty – you end up paying more in the long-run, because you can’t afford large, up-front costs.

Chronic fatigue is energy poverty. The good quality expensive boots are exercise. Hopefully you’re starting to get the picture. 

Reason #4: You Should Not Want to Eradicate Disability

The most important reason not to give unsolicited advice to chronically ill people, is because you shouldn’t want to cure them.

Most people know not to offer unsolicited advice to strangers, but I think a lot of us struggle with this idea that we shouldn’t want to cure those in pain.

That it’s okay people are in pain. 

And it’s something I struggled with personally for a long time.

Do I want my joint pain and chronic fatigue to go away? Obviously!

But, that’s just not going to happen. Womp womp.

I have made my peace with being chronically ill, with being disabled.

My favourite definition of disability sees it as a naturally occurring feature of human diversity.

Disability is as natural as the way some animals walk on four paws while others walk on two. 

And when I see disability in that greater context, I understand that there is nothing wrong with me.

That I don’t need to be cured, or fixed – to be okay.

That I, like everyone else – disabled or not – has inherent value and worth.

We also need to be incredibly mindful of why we put so much emphasis on curing chronic illness, rather than managing it.

And when we choose to advocate for a cure, we need to be incredibly mindful that we are not contributing to possible eugenic practices such as gene editing and genetic testing designed to eliminate disability. 

But that is a very big blog for another day!

Speed Round

Alright. If the four reasons didn’t get through to you and you’re still just itching to cure me – let me entertain you. 

Have you tried turmeric?

Yes! I love turmeric and have incorporated it into some delicious plant-based dishes. Great spice, but didn’t do anything for my arthritis.

Well, that’s because you didn’t try it with black pepper.

What is this, amateur hour? Have you ever cooked anything in your life? I promise you, there was plenty of black pepper. I still have joint pain though.

Fine – but have you eliminated inflammatory foods?

With an eating disorder history? You really want to encourage good elimination? Are you sure about that? Because it didn’t go too well last time.

Okay, okay. No more food recommendations. But what about –

Yoga?

How did you know I was going to say yoga?

Lucky guess. And experience.

You will be pleased to know that I love yoga – especially for waking up and soothing stiff joints. I’ve been doing yoga for years, I’m very happy with my form and practice – and I still have arthritis.

Well, what about Pilates?

Girl, that’s literally just yoga with more breathwork and strength building. Are you running out of ideas?

A little bit. What about swimming, isn’t that supposed to help?

Swimming is definitely an arthritis friendly exercise given its low joint impact – it won’t cure inflammation or stop joint pain though.

God! It’s like you’re not even trying to get better! You dismiss all the cures!

I’ve incorporated turmeric, supplements, strength-training, cardio, yoga, AND pilates into my life. I’ve just done it in a healthy, balanced way that suits my lifestyle and illness – and in a way that doesn’t align with your completely unrealistic expectations that one activity alone done at an extreme and excessive intensity will outright cure me.

Why are you so mad? I’m literally just trying to help you!

But why are you trying to help? Especially when I didn’t ask for it?

I can appreciate you wanting the best for me, but I need you to trust that I know what is best for myself.

And I know that there is nothing wrong with me – just with you, and how you choose to view disability.