The Words We Choose: How Language Shapes Our Understanding of Disability and Ability

Language draws lines across how people are seen and understood. It can build connection or create distance. The words chosen to describe someone are never neutral. They reveal how society assigns value, how belonging is extended or withheld. A single word can offer dignity or diminish it.

Over the years, terms like physically challenged, differently abled, and diverse-ability have emerged, each coined with the intention of sounding more inclusive and respectful than the last. These phrases are usually introduced with good intentions. The hope is often to shift attention toward ability, to offer encouragement, or to distance the speaker from outdated or clinical language. Despite these motivations, the results are often mixed.

When language avoids directly naming a condition or identity, it risks sending a different kind of message—one that suggests discomfort, denial, or even shame. Replacing direct terms with softened alternatives may sound kinder, but it can create confusion or distance instead of clarity and connection. Euphemisms rarely reduce stigma. More often, they reflect the speaker’s unease rather than the needs or identity of the person being described (Dolmage, 2014).

In response to stigma and exclusion, person-first language gained popularity in the 1980s. This approach encouraged saying “person with a disability” instead of “disabled person,” placing the individual before the condition. It was meant to restore dignity in systems that often reduced people to labels or diagnoses. For many, this change felt necessary and became common in education, healthcare, and public institutions (Snow, 2007).

Organizations like the American Psychological Association and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention continue to recommend person-first language as a respectful practice, especially in professional and academic settings (APA, 2019; CDC, 2021). The goal is to recognize people as whole, complex individuals—not just defined by their physical, mental, or psychological conditions.

However, not everyone agrees with this approach. Some individuals and communities have questioned whether separating the person from the condition truly respects their dignity or instead suggests the condition should be hidden.

This concern led to the rise of identity-first language, which views conditions as part of a person’s identity rather than something separate. For example, saying “autistic person” instead of “person with autism” reflects the belief that autism shapes a person’s experience and sense of self, rather than being just a condition they have (Botha et al., 2021).

The discussion becomes even more complicated when euphemisms like “special needs,” “handi-capable,” or “differently abled” are used. While often intended to empower or include, these terms can have the opposite effect. They tend to overlook real barriers, minimize struggles, and hide the need for real change. In doing so, they risk erasing rather than affirming the people they describe (Dolmage, 2014; Snow, 2007).

Preferences around language vary widely. Some people feel strongly about using identity-first language. Others continue to prefer the person-first model. Many shift between the two depending on context, audience, or mood. What matters most is not enforcing a single standard, but making space for individuals to define themselves on their own terms. Respect begins with listening and continues with honoring what people say about their own identities.

Language has the power to signal belonging—or to subtly mark someone as “other.” It can make people feel seen, or reduce them to a single facet of their experience. At its best, language affirms identity with honesty and respect. Language, on its own, cannot remove physical, social, or institutional barriers. It will not undo decades of exclusion or discrimination. Still, it plays a powerful role in shaping perception. Language influences policy, education, healthcare, and access. It determines who gets counted, who gets support, and who gets left out (APA, 2019; CDC, 2021).

The words we choose matter. They set the tone for relationships, environments, and entire systems. Thoughtful language isn’t judged by perfection; it’s about being open, paying attention, and asking others what they prefer instead of assuming.

There is no one-size-fits-all phrase. Language evolves—just like identity. True respect isn’t found in a fixed guideline or glossary. It’s built through conversation, through listening with intent, and by making space for people to define themselves in the words that feel most true to who they are.

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