© Amanda Chapman-Bruce
“It’s not an if, it’s a when” - barrister Christina Warner on why full disability integration into mainstream society is everyone’s responsibility.
When I meet Christina Warner for the first time, I’m immediately taken by her beautiful smile and the powerful, calming aura that surrounds her. Having taken time out of her busy day, she’s talking to me from her home office in London. Behind her is an authentic 1950s Kit Cat Clock, which she tells me her father imported and repaired for her. “[He] also put loads of diamonds and pearls all over her; she’s all blinged up,” she smiles. “And I can follow the tail quite well because I can’t see the time.” She also shows me her Lady Justice statue beside her. “This is my Lady Justice - who is also blind.”
Christina is a multi-award-winning barrister practising family law with any aspect of disability, human rights law, international law, and animal protection, and since the beginning of September this year, she has also been studying for a PhD in International Criminal Law at Leiden University’s Van Vollenhoven Institute, the Netherlands her research investigating the legal protections in place for disabled victims of war crimes and genocide. She’s a native Londoner, a reluctant model, a dedicated cat mum, speaks multiple languages, and has been published internationally on discrimination against people with disabilities, animal rights, and international law. And she’s losing her sight.
Christina was diagnosed four years ago with Stargardt’s disease, juvenile macular degeneration, a progressive condition for which there is currently no cure. As if telling me about a minor ailment, she explains that “at the moment I'm still the verb, not the noun, so I'm going blind, I am not blind. I'm yet to get to become the noun of being blind.” Her brother, she explains, was diagnosed with the same condition in his late teens and started showing symptoms a lot earlier than she did, adding that her eyesight started getting worse during COVID. She admits that, although she noticed that she couldn’t see everyday things such as the drop of the curb, and hadn’t been able to see bus numbers or train platform numbers for years, she’d been in denial and had become an expert at masking those signs.
“I was born with 20:20 vision, and I had that up until pretty much in my twenties, so I used all of the resources from being someone who had full vision to carry on with my life. I was in absolute denial for years until one day I took the leap of faith and I ended up getting my diagnosis and it confirmed what I'd already known, what I knew for years.”
She names the day of her diagnosis as one of the most difficult moments in her life and admits that she struggled to come to terms with her new reality because she was mourning a life she knew she’d no longer have.
“It's a sense of grief that I've never felt before and it took me a lot of time [to say I was going blind] because it genuinely felt like I was summoning a demon, that I would be bringing something out of the depths of hell. I was terrified of losing my independence and more importantly, my dignity. And now I say it quite freely because I think it's empowering. It’s like taking back something that you find is a derogatory term, you have to take ownership and claim it. There was also a relief because I finally could say to my friends, listen, when you guys point something out, or when you ask me to meet somewhere, I can't do that. And I've not been able to do that. And it stresses me out. I'm going to need you guys to help me.”
Christina credits her friendship circle for making the transition to post-diagnosis easier and more manageable. She admits that her diagnosis was also tough and emotional for them, but, she mentions, they’re all part of minority groups in society and know what it feels like to be an outsider, to be excluded.
Christina had clear requests for them concerning her immediate future. “I told them: Invite me on holidays, invite me to gigs, invite me to comedy shows, invite me everywhere. Because once I get to a point where my vision's completely gone, I want to have a bank of memories. When I may not be able to see you, we can still refer to things that have happened in the past, or when I had vision enough to be able to absorb an experience from a visual perspective.”
She admits that her diagnosis also showed who her true friends were and who she could truly depend and rely on. Whether it’s helping her read the menu in a restaurant, pointing out the location of the toilets, or even taking her there and navigating dimly lit places with her - there is no embarrassment or awkwardness. It’s a natural thing for them to do.
© Amanda Chapman-Bruce - Christina is using a symbol cane, wearing a EUTOUR magnetic watch, and jewellery by Sara Christie
Despite so much support and positivity from her immediate social circle, there are plenty of issues Christina still encounters daily, like every other member of the disabled community. She has written multiple articles on the topic, such as disability and domestic abuse, protecting companion animals from domestic abuse, and exclusion from everyday establishments because of assistance animals. These only scratch the surface but highlight that discrimination is still rife. “Disabled people are always the first to suffer”, Christina says. “We’re always a footnote and the first to have our funding cut. My own theory as to why, is that the disabled community is not seen as being profitable. We are not seen as worthy.”
Being perceived as unworthy and incapable often seems to go hand in hand. Christina recalls that when she travels by plane, she gets special assistance because she can't get to boarding anymore.
“For a start, they come up with a wheelchair. I've got a symbol cane which lets other people know that I am visually impaired, but I don't need a wheelchair. I don't have those needs. Second, people are shocked that I'm able to speak multiple languages. It’s like they believe that, just because I need special assistance, I lack intellect. I've tried not to let that bother me. But equally, why would I not be capable of speaking multiple languages? Is it because you think that by virtue of losing my eyesight, I've got a lower IQ and therefore I couldn't possibly have any level of intellect? - On the contrary, the people I found have been most approachable are others who are also waiting for special assistance. Usually, it's elderly people who are in wheelchairs or have walking aids. And they're always very sweet.”
In her opinion, it all comes down to being an afterthought: “What people seem to forget, what the government forgets, and what society at large forgets, is that disability is the fastest growing marginalised group globally, as well as in the UK. Disability doesn't care about your race, or your income, it doesn't care about your height, your weight, your gender, or sexual orientation because disability can happen to anyone at any time. And as we all know, as we get older, cognitive, mobility and sensory function decline.”
“Disability is not an ‘if’, it's a ‘when’. And by cutting the services available for social care, community care, education, housing and accommodation, and even temporary accommodation for people with disabilities, you're effectively taking away money from a huge and continuously growing group in the UK.”
“I fear for people who don't wish to engage with the disabled community or don't really want to know that we even exist, because that transition for them, once it happens, be it overnight or gradual, must be horrendous.”
She adds that living with a disability shouldn’t stop anyone from taking part in everyday life. “It should be a smooth transition regardless of whether you’re someone who was born able-bodied and becomes disabled, or whether you're someone who was born with a disability. Interaction with your surroundings and society should be seamless like it is for everyone else. But it just isn't.”
One of the biggest - and most shameful - reasons for the lack of provision and integration of disabled people is that they’re not perceived to be high-net-worth individuals and not a profitable group, remarks Christina. She points to the former Ugly Laws in the US, which indicate that the mainstream is disgusted by people with a disability. “People support us in principle, but they don’t want us too close, they don’t want to see us, they don’t want to hear us.”
However, rather than seeing people with a disability as an inconvenience, viewing them as motivation and progress would be far more beneficial for everyone. “We [disabled people] are the next step in evolution, because we are the ones who have been able to overcome an impairment, a challenge, and we have met that head-on. We've carried on with our lives, and we're the ones who are going to bridge the gap between humanity and technology, robotics, and bionics.”
© Amanda Chapman-Bruce - Christina is wearing a EUTOUR magnetic watch and jewellery by Sara Christie
Making society accessible for everyone may seem a daunting and impossible task for those who aren’t affected by physical or mental challenges, however, it’s generally a lot easier than most people think.
“We forget that what resolves one challenge for one set of disabled people may well resolve challenges for another group. Obviously, it's not one size fits all because that's not life. But for instance, a lot of issues that would be resolved by way of ramps rather than stairs to assist someone who uses a wheelchair, or who has arthritis, uses a walking aid and so on, would also assist me because being partially sighted, I'd much prefer to take the slope and go up the ramp because that's easier for me.”
From a neuro-divergent perspective, Christina points out that quiet spaces aren’t just beneficial for those struggling with audio-sensory overload, but equally help someone who relies a lot on their hearing, such as partially sighted or blind people.
However, the biggest issue that’s stopping disabled people from becoming fully integrated members of society is, from Christina’s personal experience, the Department of Work and Pensions (DWP) and Access to Work Scheme. She tells me that the processes are antiquated and long-winded, and make it almost impossible for someone who also works full-time to apply for it.
“As a barrister, I work 80 to 100 hours a week. I cannot deal with the bureaucracy that I have to complete with the DWP as well as do my full-time work. In order to be able to get funding for my PA to come with me, I've got rafts of paperwork that I need to go through with her, with the DWP, and with the caseworker. I think [the whole process] needs to be streamlined significantly and not micromanaged because we need to just be able to do our jobs.”
In addition, disabled people have to prove time and time again that they are entitled to their funding, handing over sensitive medical records to case workers who have no medical understanding of each case.
As a second point, Christina points out the obvious problem of underrepresentation of disabled people in society. “I don't think that disabled people are anywhere. Considering that we make up over 20 percent of the UK population, I'm not seeing 20 percent of actors, 20 percent of presenters, 20 percent of anything anywhere.”
And thirdly, she believes it’s also about society telling disabled people what they need. Rather than that, she wants society to listen to what the disabled community needs. “We will tell you. And people need to listen to us.”
© Amanda Chapman-Bruce - Christina is wearing a EUTOUR magnetic watch
So what would be Christina’s advice for the able-bodied community and how they can be effective allies? “Again - able-bodied people - listen! Just listen to what we have to say because disability is inevitable. Ageing is a privilege, but when you get to that stage, you'll be a lot more aware of what it takes to be a member of the disabled community. [You can help by making sure that] we’re equipped with what we need to get through the transition, to be able to get into the mainstream. And then things do become much easier, much more manageable.”
As someone who has made that transition, Christina also has some advice for members of the disabled community, especially those who have recently had a diagnosis or an accident resulting in a disability. “
The first thing I’d say is: Find your people. Find your community because you won't get through this without them. The sense of isolation and desperation and grief that disabled people feel - you won't be able to get through it without them. Maybe that also means losing people and you may find that the friends you thought you had simply aren't there. Get rid of them. They weren't friends in the first place.”
“Secondly, reach out to organisations that will be able to set you up with the skills that you need to get through this because once you're out the other side and you feel that you are able to cope and you're able to continue living once you've adapted, it's easy from there. It's that transition from diagnosis to then getting back into the mainstream that will make or break you.”
It’s exactly the strength and perseverance of members of the disabled community that is unfathomable to outsiders, but it’s exactly that skill of being highly adaptable that is often missing in the able-bodied community.
“The resilience I see amongst my friends who are wheelchair users, have cerebral palsy, are amputees, or have dwarfism is incredible. We just have to get on with it. We don't have a choice. What else can we do? What am I meant to do? Just lay down and die? Just sit here and rot? Well, my bills will keep coming, regardless of whether or not I'm losing my sight.”
© Amanda Chapman-Bruce - Christina is wearing a EUTOUR magnetic watch and jewellery by Sara Christie
It’s high time that we reframed our perception of minority groups and started to listen, advocate, and implement change for them and with them. We’re all gaining from it in the long run. It’s also time that we drop the pointless and unhelpful assumption that there is a them and us. As Christina points out, it’s a “when”, not an “if” for all of us, so realising that we all belong together and are stronger if we look out for one another, society would be a much better place. Ultimately, whether we’re able-bodied or not, we’re all just ourselves. As Christina puts it: “In the words of Gwen Stefani: ‘I'm just a girl’. I'm just a South London girl with a quick mouth.”
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