Dear Editor,
We live in a world shaped by the stories we tell — about ourselves, about others, and about what it means to live a good life. But when society tells only one story about disability — that it is a personal tragedy to be cured or hidden away — we create not understanding, but oppression. This “single view” is the medical model of disability, and it has dominated our schools, workplaces, and healthcare systems for generations.
The medical model defines disability as a defect in the individual — something to be treated, rehabilitated, or, if possible, corrected. But this view, while sometimes useful for diagnosis or treatment, comes with real danger. It quietly tells people with disabilities that the problem lies in them, not in the world that excludes them.
Under the medical model, a child who cannot walk is “disabled” because their legs do not function typically. But under the social model of disability, that same child is disabled because buildings lack ramps, schools lack inclusion, and attitudes lack empathy. The difference is profound: one blames the body, the other challenges society.
The social model of disability emerged from the voices of people with disabilities themselves — advocates who dared to say, “Nothing about us without us.” It reframes disability as a natural part of human diversity, not a defect. It demands that society remove barriers — physical, attitudinal, and institutional — that prevent full participation.
By embracing the social model, we shift from pity to partnership, from charity to justice. It asks not “What’s wrong with you?” but “What needs to change around you?”
The medical model persists because it feels safe. It provides neat labels and treatment plans. It promises that if we fix the person, society can stay the same. But this illusion of simplicity hides harm. It leaves millions marginalized, undereducated, and unemployed — not because they lack ability, but because our systems refuse to adapt.
Imagine a city where buses kneel low enough for wheelchair users to board independently. Imagine classrooms where lessons are designed for visual, auditory, and kinesthetic learners alike. Imagine employers who see accessibility not as a burden, but as an innovation. This is not utopian thinking — it’s the logical outcome of embracing the social model. When we design for diversity, we design for everyone.
The danger of a single view is that it silences others. It reduces complex human lives to medical diagnoses and statistical categories. It denies agency and creativity to people who have much to offer. A society that listens only to the medical voice misses the symphony of lived experience. But a society that embraces the social model of disability listens differently. It hears not deficits, but diversity.
The next time we see a person with a disability, let us resist the reflex to ask, “What’s wrong?” Instead, let us ask, “What can we change?” Because the true measure of a just society is not how it treats the powerful or the perfect, but how it embraces difference — and builds a world where everyone belongs.
“Disability does not reside in bodies; it resides in barriers. The most disabling thing is not the condition — it’s exclusion.”
“The difference is profound: one blames the body, the other challenges society.”
“When we design for diversity, we design for everyone.”
Yours truly
Keon Cheong
