The COVID-19 pandemic has brought the failings of our society into sharp relief – exposing inadequate healthcare systems, social security nets and incompetent governments worldwide. And, due to its very nature as a health crisis, the pandemic has laid bare the rampant ableism that permeates our individual and collective lives.

As a 25-year-old with multiple invisible chronic illnesses – which have left me immunosuppressed and limited my physical capacity – I am intimately acquainted with ableism. Simply put, it is a set of attitudes, beliefs and behaviours that discriminate against those who diverge from the “norm” of being able-bodied, neurotypical or without chronic illness. It ranges from structural design failures like inaccessible buildings to seemingly harmless attitudes such as the belief that working in bed is inherently unproductive. The needs and behaviours of those who fall outside the able-bodied “norm” are positioned as inconvenient or undesirable.

It falsely reassures able-bodied people that there is always someone “less than” them, and it allows them to maintain the fantasy that, ultimately, they are in control of their lives. But the pandemic has exposed this belief for being exactly that, a fantasy, proving that everyone is just one step away from getting sick, becoming disabled or developing a chronic illness.

Because the world has been built by and for them, I’m not surprised by the lack of awareness among the able-bodied that, for those with a disability or chronic illness, living under many of our current constraints isn’t new.

Witness the ableist language in their efforts to bond during this time of isolation. From the flood of articles with tips on how to stay “sane” – a term with its own deeply ableist roots – to the constant yearning for a return to pre-COVID life, the past 18 months have exposed just how commonplace ableist attitudes and stereotypes are.

Watching Sydney’s current lockdown unfold would have been depressing if it wasn’t so predictable. Memes prepared us to “waste” another few weeks/months of our lives. Citizens living in moderate isolation were referred to as “inmates”, implying the existence of those who are literally incapable of leaving home is as unfulfilling as a life in jail.

The basics for which health and disability activists have been campaigning for years – telecommuting, tele-health and distance learning – were quick and easy adjustments to make, once the able-bodied population needed them.

It’s also shown that the basics for which health and disability activists have been campaigning for years – telecommuting, tele-health and distance learning – were quick and easy adjustments to make, once the able-bodied population needed them. A McKinsey Digital report found their implementation would ordinarily have taken five years but, because of COVID, took a mere eight weeks.

Caroline Reilly, a legal fellow with Rewire News Group, writer and reproductive rights advocate, has called out ableist attitudes during the pandemic. “When I was in law school, I struggled immensely because I wasn’t given accommodations and during COVID, watching that same school go entirely remote was really hard … there was no reason I couldn’t have had those accommodations extended to me, other than ableism and a lack of understanding.”