In Western societies it is rather difficult not to be exposed to sexuality, be it through commercials using near naked bodies to sell various products or popular culture where romance, sex and coupledom are common themes. This everyday exposure to sexual imagery is limited, however, in an important respect in that it rarely includes any bodies, minds and sexual practices outside a limited range. It is likely that we will see white, able-bodied women in sexy commercials and heterosexual able-bodied couples of roughly the same age as romantic partners in television and movies and having penetrative sex with orgasm as the goal (although usually only for the man) in erotica and porn. We seldom see disabled people – either in film or in everyday life – presented as sexual beings (for notable exceptions see Houston 2019; Waxman Fiduccia 1999). In fact, in mainstream culture disabled people are often portrayed in a desexualising way (Stevens 2010). And when they have sexual roles, it is often in ‘assimilative, rather than transgressive’ ways, in an effort to ‘be tuned to the demand of popular taste’ (Malinowska 2017, p. 365; see also Andree forthcoming).
In the words of Rose Galvin (2006, p. 503):
[T]he silences surrounding disability and sexuality are as vital to the production and reproduction of normative discourses as are the cultural images that flood us daily with what constitutes acceptable forms of sexualit[ies].
Young disabled people experience a lack of role models in a discourse where disability and sexuality is seen as ‘other’ (Wiseman 2014, p. 163). This follows a historical line where visual representations have been that of ‘freakshow’, ‘the clinical gaze’, ‘inspiration porn’, disability as a metaphor or as something to be concealed and looked away from (Hunt, Swartz, Braathen, Carew, Chiwaula & Rohleder 2019; see also Ebrahim 2019; Kafer 2012). While the focus has shifted, the common denominator has been an othering of disabled bodies, minds and lives.
While the research upon which this book is based is not primarily a cultural analysis, it cannot be understood without cultural contextualisation (see Rainey 2011; Shildrick 2007). The impact of culture on one’s body image, identity and sense of attractiveness is uncontested (see Guldin 2000; Wiseman 2014). The policies that will be analysed in subsequent chapters have been developed by actors in different cultural contexts, and the interviewed organisations working on sexuality and disability are situated and need to position themselves within these various local contexts. Although culture in today’s globalised world is much more fluid, multifaceted and less dependent on geographical boundaries, we as humans are nevertheless immersed in it from the day we are born and assigned a gender. Throughout our lives we are constantly bombarded with cultural influences that to different degrees will influence our socialisation and identity formation. Another important factor which this book focuses on is advocacy by civil society groups and organisations. They contribute in different ways to new knowledges and practices relating to social issues, marginalised communities and identities. In a larger sense this book seeks to expand our understanding of sexuality and disability, but more specifically, it seeks to raise important issues around sexual support needs of people with mobility impairments. Through policy analysis and interviews with disabled people, their organisations and other stakeholders in Sweden, England, the Netherlands and New South Wales, Australia, I aim to illuminate how sexual support opportunities can be vastly different.
Though my starting point for discussing sexuality and disability is primarily social constructivist, the importance of the body is not overlooked (as will be discussed in detail in Chapter 2). Because, as my own as well as other empirical studies have shown, a person’s opportunity to explore sexuality in their desired way can be impacted by experiences of the body as well as social, cultural and political contexts. In particular, the lack of acknowledgement of being sexual experienced by many disabled people and non-existing sexual support frameworks are emphasised (Bahner 2016). Policies and practices are investigated through the lens of sexual ableism: ‘the system of imbuing sexuality with determinations of qualification to be sexual based on criteria of ability, morality, physicality, appearance, age, race, social acceptability, and gender conformity’ (Gill 2015, p. 151; see also Liddiard 2018). Furthermore, the experience of sexually being in the world is influenced by intersectional positions, for example with regard to gender and sexual identity, age, ethnicity and socio-economic status. Another important aspect concerns impairment type and the particular ways in which it affects bodily experience, including how other people – including the state – view it (Shildrick 2007). Understanding sexual support needs therefore necessarily involves an analysis that connects policy, practice and theory, as the book’s title suggests.
The two research studies upon which the book is based will be presented in detail in the next chapter, but I will offer here a brief overview. The first is a Swedish project about the sexual support opportunities for personal assistance users with mobility impairments, including perspectives from personal assistants, service providers, a disabled young people’s organisation and a state agency. The second is an international comparative study about the conceptualisation of sexual support in policies and among disabled people’s organisations and other relevant organisations – and their implications for practice. The starting point for these studies has been to interrogate how disabled people who wish to explore and experience sexuality are unable to do so due to various factors. It is grounded in a normative framework of sexual expression, intimacy and pleasure as an important part of many people’s lives and something that should be acknowledged and supported. There are disabled people, just like non-disabled people, who do not wish to pursue sexual goals or who do not require other’s support in doing so, but this research does not have them as a focus.1 In the words of Dominic Davies (2000, p. 188):
We believe it is fine to be celibate and single, if it’s by choice. However, ableism, body fascism, and economic disadvantage are key social factors that cause many disabled people to remain single and isolated against their will. … We’ve fought for equality in terms of access to the built environment, to education and employment and now we want our rights to love, form relationships, and have sex with ourselves and with other people.
This chapter will now give an introduction to previous research on sexuality and disability, which provide important context for my own studies. In the next chapter, I will present the methods used and materials analysed in the projects, as well as the theoretical concepts that guide the analysis. In Chapters 3–6, each case study is presented: Sweden, England, the Netherlands and New South Wales, Australia. Finally, Chapter 7 discusses how disabled people’s sexual citizenship can be understood in relation to sexual facilitation opportunities in each context specifically, as well as more broadly. It also offers a conceptual framework for working with sexual rights advocacy on various levels to ensure what I term policy-based and practice-based sexual citizenship.