Brian Sibanda 
“I used to think I was poor. Then they told me I wasn't poor; I was
needy. Then they told me it was self-defeating to think of myself as needy; I
was deprived. Then they told me underprivileged was overused, and I was disadvantaged.
I still don't have a dime, but I have a great vocabulary.” ― Jules Feiffer.

In our politically correct
culture, language around disability is shifting rapidly, striving to change
perceptions and foster inclusivity. Yet with each new term, we seem to end up
with a euphemism treadmill that doesn’t improve the reality of life for people
with disabilities. This trend makes me question: Is rephrasing disability
enough to help, or are we simply making ourselves feel better with thoughtful
words?

I came across a TikTok
video where a mother described her son as “suffering from autism,” only for her
son to correct her, “I don’t suffer; I have it.” That moment captured what
political correctness around disability should be about representing how people
feel about their conditions. Feiffer’s words echo here too calling him
“disadvantaged” instead of “poor” never changed his struggles.

Words like “physically
challenged” or “people living with disabilities” have replaced offensive terms,
but real change goes beyond vocabulary. For instance, while society retires
outdated terms like “creeps,” there’s still an unsettling undertone in how disability
is often met with pity, discomfort, or judgment. South Africa’s public
transport system illustrates this divide starkly: as people who use wheelchairs
still fight for safe passage on Johannesburg’s streets, larger structural
issues like accessible pavements and transportation routes remain mostly
undiscussed.

Political correctness has
the potential to foster respect and understanding, yet, as Dr. O’Nell observes,
euphemisms can sometimes serve as a convenient mask-softening language while
failing to address the root issues. As we refine our vocabulary, people with
disabilities continue to face concrete barriers in accessing workplaces,
transportation, and public spaces. Changing language alone does little to
counteract these obstacles.

Take, for example, the
idea of implementing dedicated “colored bicycle lanes” and there’s no need to
soften or rephrase the term. Rather than getting caught up in language, we
could focus on taking actionable steps, such as creating simple green lanes. These
designated pathways could open freedom of movement and provide safer transit
options for people who use wheelchairs or live with visual impairments. Imagine
the impact of small infrastructure changes like this: a clear, accessible path
allowing people to commute to and from work without constantly navigating
around pedestrians, vehicles, or unsafe road edges. Such an initiative could
transform daily commutes into safer, more empowering experiences, granting
autonomy and dignity in the movement for those who, all too often, are left out
of the infrastructure conversation entirely.

While language is a good
starting point, creating awareness, opening discussions, and making people
comfortable talking about disability without fear of offending, it’s simply not
enough. True progress requires addressing the tangible barriers that the disabled
community faces: inaccessible public transport, limited job opportunities, and
a lack of representation in decision-making. Constructive actions like policy
advocacy, infrastructure changes, and real community support are essential to
move beyond words toward meaningful inclusion.