Wed 23 Oct 2019 16.49 BST
Last modified on Wed 23 Oct 2019 19.21 BST
I felt a strange mix of shock and weariness when reading comments by Jack Thorne, the screenwriter behind the new BBC adaptation of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials adaptation, who spoke out this week about what he called the “invisible prejudice in the industry” towards disabled people.
“I sit in meetings pushing disabled talent and I’m told, ‘we don’t want to overexpose them’,” Thorne wrote in the Radio Times. “I ask that parts be specifically defined as disabled and I’m told we’ll see disabled actors for the role, but they are almost never cast. I write shows that are exclusively disabled-led and they get rejected.”
The comments felt shocking because they are refreshingly honest – an insider unflinchingly shining a light on just how bad things are. What Thorne describes is a culture where commissioners are at best failing to include disabled talent, and at worst are guilty of institutional ableism. “We don’t want to overexpose them” feels akin to describing a fungus.
But I also felt weary because the reality is that this is far from a new issue. Disabled people have long called out the dire representation of disability on screen: more than one in five of us are disabled, but only 7.4% of the characters on television are portrayed by disabled people, and only 5.5% of those working behind the scenes are disabled.
It is an insight into the uphill battle facing disabled people’s representation on screen that it’s still seen as perfectly normal for non-disabled actors to do the representing for us. On the rare occasions disability is portrayed in TV or film, it is still customary for actors without disabilities to play disabled characters – or “crip up” – often to great applause and awards.
In contrast, it’s unusual for disabled actors to be hired to play characters who aren’t defined by their disability, to be given parts who are just “people” – the protagonist doctor rather than the multiple sclerosis patient.
The excuses for this status quo are as dated as they are daft: that there isn’t sufficient disabled talent out there (perhaps you just haven’t looked?) or the catch-22 that producers must hire well-known actors but disabled actors can only gain a profile once hired. Even at a time when audiences are becoming more vigilant about these issues generally, there is still often a pushback against any disabled person who explains how uncomfortable this practice is.
It is exhausting to have the same conversation over and over – to be asked to prove that disabled people matter, that we are worthy of being a part of “normal” culture. This is all the more painful considering disabled people are culturally seen as passive and invisible; when you’re a minority group who are spoken about rather than listened to in day-to-day life, it can feel particularly damaging to see our fictional lives played out by non-disabled people.
This isn’t just an issue of who is playing the parts, though, but what stories are being told. Disability-related topics are still too often seen as niche, despite disabled people being the world’s largest minority group. Both the creative talent and audience interest is out there; the only disabled-led programme Thorne said he’s “managed to get away” with – BBC Three’s Don’t Take My Baby – notably went on to win a Bafta, despite its modest budget. At the same time, disabled writers and directors need to be seen as more than tokens wheeled in for disability-themed programming, but as people who can add to any story.
Improving disability representation will take practical measures. Lenny Henry has backed the idea of a “representation tax relief”, which would reduce the taxes on UK film and television productions that meet certain criteria for women, ethnic minorities or disabled people. Disability diversity targets for drama schools, training programmes and agencies are also necessary. Broadcasters themselves – many of which already have targets – clearly need to do better, as well as celebrating the gains being made.
But it will also mean tackling the persistent prejudices that exist about disability in the entertainment industry; from the myth disabled actors will somehow slow down production, to the idea disability is an ugly thing to be shut away.
Thorne helping to highlight the problem is one thing, but getting others in the industry to listen is quite another. Instead of resisting, any TV exec worth their salt should rush to embrace the richness that only diverse art brings. We are all better off when our screens reflect reality.
• Frances Ryan is a Guardian columnist
