Every year when I host the Disability Pride Readathon or my Read Disabled Storygraph challenge there are people who are upset that I don’t require participants to exclusively read books by disabled authors and think that I should do so. I understand the sentiment–I too want to support and promote disabled authors first and foremost, but I ultimately feel that in this case, the risks outweigh the benefits. I think this perspective of “exclusively disabled authors” works very well for personal convictions of what you read or recommend or for a book club or a reading challenge where participants read specific books–ie. instances in which you have control over which books are selected–but when it is an open-ended, prompt-based readathon/reading challenge that is for thousands of followers, with hundreds of participants, I think that requiring disabled authors runs the risk of causing harm.

Disability is an identity that is deeply personal. Two people may have the same condition, but one may identify as disabled and another may not. Many members of the Deaf community do not identify as disabled. Many people who have mental illnesses or certain chronic illnesses do not identify as disabled–many may not have ever considered it a possibility. Where, then, does that leave these books? Calling a character disabled when the author may not see it that way is one thing–but to include a book by an author who does not consider themselves disabled in a challenge requiring disabled authors is to publicly assign an identity to them that they do not identify with. Disability and the disabled experience are a spectrum, and people’s identities have so much nuance. Everyone is on a journey to understanding themselves and their identities, and I do not think that is my place, nor the place of my readathon or readathon participants, to assign an identity to someone who has not themself claimed it.

At the same time, the disabled identity is a marginalized one, and some people keep that identity private to protect themselves and/or their loved ones. Some people have personal or professional reasons where being public about their disability puts their financial, professional, familial, or personal safety at risk. But even if someone is in a place where they are safe, I believe they have the right to keep information private if they so choose, and I don’t believe that writing a fictional book where a character has a disability forfeits them that right.

Requiring books by disabled authors leads to people trying to search out if an author is disabled, and if that is not readily available information, it can lead to people asking authors if they are disabled, which is an invasion of their privacy. I don’t want a readathon or reading challenge that I organized to lead to people crossing boundaries. 

I also think that a general attitude that the only disability representation that “counts” is that which is written by disabled authors puts a general pressure on authors to open up about their disability when they may not truly be comfortable doing so. We have seen in other marginalized communities authors and celebrities who have been forced to publicly claim an identity before they were ready to because people claimed they shouldn’t be writing the books they were writing, and I do not want, even indirectly, to be involved in anything that could lead to that outcome.

These first two reasons are the driving force behind my decision to not require books by disabled authors for participants in my reading challenge. However, I believe there are also some benefits to allowing participants to read any books with a disabled character instead of exclusively those by disabled authors. It makes participation easier for those who are more casual readers, or those who are not generally invested in seeking out disability representation. Some people are going to look at the prompts, see if any of the books already on their shelves fit, and participate based on that. I’d rather a person pick up The Hunger Games or Percy Jackson or Love, Theoretically for the challenge as opposed to not participating at all. Everyone has to start somewhere, and if a book by a non-disabled author is what gets them in the door, gets them thinking about disability representation and diversifying their reading, then I want them to feel welcome in our discussions–because those discussions do emphasize books by disabled authors and #ownvoices representation.

I also see benefits to non-own voices representation, when it is done well. Yes, it is more prone to inaccuracies or stereotypes–but there are many books by non-disabled authors about disabled characters with good representation, just as there are harmful books by disabled authors. My thoughts on disability representation by non-disabled authors could be an essay on its own (and perhaps it will be at some point), but I do truly believe it can be good representation, and it can further the goal of promoting acceptance of disabled people in our society and help individuals with disabilities feel represented. My “main” disability (PANS/BGE) is only featured in two narrative books–one of them is own voices (My Heart to Find by Elin Annalise) and the other is not (The First Rule of Climate Club by Carrie Firestone)--but both were incredibly meaningful for me to read. Both represented my disability well. And only the latter is geared towards children, the main demographic impacted by PANS. I think that book has a place in the discussion of Disability Pride for people who have PANS, and I think other books that make people feel represented do as well, even if they are not by disabled authors. 

That said, I do believe it is vitally important to prioritize own voices representation and uplift disabled authors. I just don’t believe that requiring disabled authors in the challenges that I run is a requisite part of that. Instead, I do so by encouraging people to seek out books by disabled authors. All recommendations that come from me, for these challenges are own voices or by disabled authors (as are the majority of books with disability representation that I recommend on my page, generally) as well.

As of the writing of this post, over 80% of books that people have added to the Storygraph challenge associated with the Disability Pride Readathon are by openly disabled authors (this number was ascertained by me going through the Instagrams and author websites of any author I was unfamiliar with to see if they mentioned being disabled/writing own voices rep). When I look at the books people are discussing in the Discord channels or the posts people tag me in on social media for these challenges that I run, they are overwhelmingly by disabled authors. To me, that shows that my efforts to emphasize disabled authors are effective. Maybe I could increase that percentage by strictly requiring books by disabled authors, but I, personally, do not consider that worth the above risks when the vast majority of books read for these challenges are by disabled authors.

I know that not everyone is going to agree with me on this. We each have our own consciences, and we can weigh the same variables and come to differing conclusions, but I hope that you are at the very least able to understand where I am coming from and why I have made this decision for the challenges and readathons that I run.

Thank you to all of you who show up and support these readathons, and thank you to those who have and continue to challenge me to improve them and improve my support of disabled authors and the disabled community at large. Even when we come to differing conclusions, I appreciate your perspectives and your desires to make the world and our shared bookish community more accepting, equitable, and supportive of disabled authors. I truly believe that we all want what is best for our community.