When we read Shakespeare’s Social Model of Disability, it introduced a concept I had never considered before. At first, I did actually like it, but the more I thought about it, the more my thoughts changed.
I am someone who is both physically disabled and neurodivergent. I have always been neurodivergent, of course, but my physical disability did not become more prominent until recently; and with it has come shame. I think this is why I was drawn to the social model of disability at first. I am ashamed and embarrassed of the visibility that comes with my disability and how I have to accommodate it. Reading this social model helped me think of this shame in a new light, however – it is not my fault I am ashamed. It is the society around me who has made me embarrassed and forced me to push myself past my limits countless times.
At the same time, however, I realized that this is not fair to myself and my identity as a whole. Yes, it is the society around me that has caused me shame and embarrassment and an unrealistic stubbornness that makes me push myself. But that does not take away the pain I am in, or the potential complications of my disability. And even if it is “just” society causing this shame, that doesn’t take away the pain from the nights I’ve wasted staying up wishing with everything in me I could be “normal”, wishing that I could just understand social cues and not have sensory issues or anxiety or mood issues.
It also takes away from the community I’ve found in spite of this pain. I’ve had negative social interactions because of my neurodivergency and my disability, but framing these things as purely societal issues takes away from all of the positive aspects of social interaction while disabled. I am always so grateful for that community and the people that have been there for me consistently. I’ve learned a lot about both myself and the world around me as I navigate being disabled and neurodivergent, and even though there are bad days, I love the community and the people I’ve found, and I love our persistence despite the pain we experience, regardless of where it comes from.
Image source: https://www.hamiltondds.org/cincinnati-region-celebrates-disability-pride-in-july/
Unruly Bodies 
I also have mixed thoughts on the social model of disability – for some disabilities and individuals, better accommodation really can make all the difference. It’s easy to get caught up in that idea; in a perfect world you wouldn’t be held back. There’s only so much, though, that society can change.
A perfect world might more easily accommodate disabilities, but it can’t make pain disappear. Sure, accommodations for migraine and other chronic pain can be helpful – less consequences for needing time off, more comfortable lighting, whatever. But they don’t change the fact that some days I am just stuck until it goes away. Class accommodations for neurodivergent students are cool, but they don’t change the fact that I forget to feed and water myself sometimes (pretending I’m a plant sometimes helps). Extended time is helpful, but our time here is still limited, and some deadlines can’t be modified (see: eating and drinking). “Society” can’t give me back the extra time it takes me to complete tasks, not on a greater scale than an exam or two at least.
I also relate heavily to the community part, though I don’t feel as though I have much to add there.