Politicians with Disabilities Are Rare Because of Structural Barriers, Discrimination

Connell Crooms isn’t shy about his desire to change the American political system.

“A Black, disabled, working-class person like myself has faced marginalization in different forms, and recognizes the need for police accountability, health care reform, living wages, and housing control, because if able-bodied individuals are struggling … then people with disabilities … are going to experience much worse hardships,” Crooms says.

A deaf, labor organizer who studied law at Gallaudet University, Crooms has run for Jacksonville, Florida, mayor and city council, and was preparing to run for Congress in 2021, before redistricting made that a nonstarter. He is part of a growing group of young, disabled people running for office nationwide, including candidates such as New York State Rep. Yuh-Line Niou, who recently lost a Democratic primary bid for Congress, and Maryland’s Lydia X. Z. Brown. In addition to high-profile seats, disabled people are running as local candidates for school board, mayor, and city council across the country.

For some disabled voters, these candidacies are reason for celebration, but there is a problem: Many disabled people face significant hurdles that prevent them from mounting successful campaigns, including a Social Security Administration policy that can declare them ineligible for benefits like Medicaid, which they may need to survive, even if they are just volunteering on a campaign. For them, all of this means that attempting to take political office is a huge gamble.

Enter Senator Bob Casey, the third-term Pennsylvania Democrat who introduced two pieces of legislation in July to ensure that more disabled people can work on campaigns, run for office, and serve in local government without facing unnecessary workplace-access issues.

The Removing Access Barriers to Running for Elected Office for People With Disabilities Act would ensure that disabled people can campaign without the risk of losing their social security disability benefits. For candidates or appointees who serve in local office, the ​​Accessibility and Inclusion to Diversify Local Government Leadership Act would offer city and town governments federal community grants of $3,000-$50,000 to make facilities more accessible.

Casey says he was moved to file the legislation because he wants to see more disabled leaders in government. “They have different experiences, generally, but in particular, sometimes different experiences with government services. And elected officials with disabilities tend to have a stronger track record on disability related issues and policy,” Casey explains. “In so many ways, it makes a government office, a government agency, or a branch of government or level of government more aware of and responsive to the needs of the disability community.”

But there’s a catch. The two bills do not tackle whether disabled people who win these races would still be subject to the strict asset limits that come with employment when someone is receiving social security disability benefits. In New York City, where city councilors make $148,500 per year, a candidate might be able to forgo benefits, but positions in smaller towns and cities can pay much less, putting disabled candidates in a bind.

It’s a sticking point that advocates like Sarah Blahovec, a disability policy expert who has worked as the voting and civic engagement director at the National Council for Independent Living, are deeply concerned about. “There are plenty of unpaid positions, sure, but there are ones that have maybe a couple thousand dollars a year [in compensation], a couple hundred. That's something that someone wouldn't be able to take,” Blahovec says. “They, from what I can understand, probably wouldn't be able to forfeit [it] either. So what happens there?”

Still, Blahovec believes that this legislation is an important step forward. “I can't say one part of social security being broken is more important than the other,” she says, referring to the many problems that disabled people encounter with the public benefits program. “I think we need to see a lot more reforms, but first we need to see this legislation actually get passed.”

Social security benefit issues loom large, but they are not the only barrier for young, disabled people who want a life in politics. Sophie Poost, a disability advocate who works as the director of programs with the Disability EmpowerHer Network, was excited to attend a series of sessions offered by the National Democratic Training Committee, but came away feeling that a run for office was inaccessible. “Their staff was great, and we talked a lot about accessibility, but the more I went through it, and the more I heard about these long days, and everything being on a tight timeline," she recalls, "and the kind of wages people are earning and the benefits they can expect, it just became something that daunted me.”

On the campaign trail in Florida, Crooms says that the lack of support has made communicating with voters radically less accessible. “As a disabled candidate, I can say that hiring interpreters for door knocking, debates, meet and greets, literally became one of the most expensive items," he points out, "and I wondered why the federal government didn’t have resources for candidates like myself and why there weren’t any active PACs to help.”

Shahana Hanif, who won a seat on New York City’s council in 2021, says that being diagnosed with a disability is what led to her “politicization” as a tenant organizer prior to her run for office. “After graduation and taking on a full-time job, I realized that I needed a telework option, or just a work from home option,” she remembers. “I remember being met with a lot of resistance, and being struck by that because it felt to me like I had been delivering and that I was trustworthy and committed to the organization’s principles and values. So, to be met with skepticism showed me that it's not necessarily a personal attack on me, but rather a structural issue.”

Hanif says she began her campaign far in advance of her competitors simply because she knew her body might need to work according to a different timeline than her peers. For Hanif, COVID and the increase in remote work meant that she could continue to meet the needs of her constituents, even while undergoing a hip replacement shortly after taking office.

But accommodations did not just materialize for Hanif — and if she had not asked for them, they may not have materialized at all. “I remember expressing to my colleagues just how important this moment is," she says, "that I get to come out of my replacement surgery, and while in recovery I get to come to the meetings over Zoom or conduct my hearings over Zoom, and continue to participate.”

Hanif’s experience has led her to believe that nondisabled elected officials could have a much more intricate understanding of accessibility and inclusion if they had more disabled colleagues to work closely with every day. “We really have to emphasize that participation is not just in person or being in a building somewhere,” she says, “and [that] that's what representation looks like.”

Senator Casey says the same beliefs motivated him to propose the current federal legislation on access barriers. “Just like we need diversity in government by way of race, gender, and other considerations in other categories," he notes, "we need to make sure that diversity extends to having elected representatives and others in government who are diverse by way of their disability.”

Even if the legislation does pass, Blahovec says, the complicated challenges posed by the Social Security Administration’s disability rules can create a painful, persistent split between the disability haves and have-nots, favoring candidates who do not need government support over those who do. “I think it certainly reinforces some sort of divide between disabled people who can basically contribute to capitalism by working a job and then disabled people who are not able to do that and need access to benefits," Blahovec says, "and a perception of, like, ‘They're less worthy of running for office because they're not trying hard enough, or they need too many supports,’ or things like that, when that's really not the case.”

Poost sees it firsthand in her friend group, who people go to when they make voting plans. She said that two-spirit, LGBTQ+, BIPOC, and intellectually disabled people are radically underrepresented within organizing circles, and that reducing these barriers needs to include them. “If you look at any panel or conversation of disabled people who have gotten elected, you see the same kinds of people,” she says. “They're usually cis, they're usually white, they're usually [having] physical disabilities with some limitations. There might be a few people who are autistic, but you don't usually see people who have intellectual or developmental disabilities, [or] are multiply disabled."

Given the many barriers young, disabled candidates like Crooms could be forgiven for giving up on changing the system from the inside. But Crooms says he plans to continue to seek opportunities to lead, and says other disabled people can too, disrupting the political landscape by going straight to the foundation.

“Ableism is a cultural problem in America,” Crooms tells Teen Vogue. “And a lack of disabled leadership at the highest levels — where laws are crafted that shape our social conditions — are a big reason for this. We need more community control models to craft better policies and normalize disability in everyday society.”

Blahovec says, at the end of the day, the barriers Casey’s legislation is trying to shift are — like much of disabled life — just another example of the political world unnecessarily getting in the way: “It's another level of bureaucratic nonsense that keeps them from being able to affect change.”