For those who don’t know, the UK Government’s “Green Paper” on disability support is a policy proposal intended to reshape how benefits, healthcare, and employment are approached for disabled individuals. Most people think of it as a survey designed to collect public feedback on proposed policies. Green Papers are often used to spark public discussion before laws are made—or at least, that’s what the government claims to hope for.

But the reality is: proposals like this have immediate, lasting consequences for people already living under stigma, chronic illness, and mental health struggles.

This particular Green Paper has raised serious concerns among disability advocates. Rather than expanding support, many of the proposed changes risk limiting it—tightening eligibility, introducing harsher assessments, and placing greater pressure on already-vulnerable individuals to “prove” they are worthy of care. While it’s framed as a modernization effort, many disabled people see it as a quiet step toward exclusion.

Simply put, they are asking disabled people to work like healthy individuals to earn support—and punishing them if they can’t. One especially harmful proposal suggests delaying access to funding until age 22, rather than 18—making it harder for young people to receive care when early treatment could increase recovery and improve long-term outcomes.

As a disabled leader and advocate outside the UK, I chose to respond—not because I’m eligible for these benefits, but because this reflects a global pattern: the slow erasure of disabled voices in the name of efficiency.

What follows is my unfiltered response. I debated softening it.

I chose not to.

Because the truth should not have to be polite to be heard.

An International Disabled Leader’s Open Letter to the UK Government” “Don’t Save Money with Our Lives”

This is the unfiltered response I submitted to a UK Green Paper on Disability Policy. I debated toning it down. I chose not to. Because the truth should not have to be polite to be heard.

Q1. Do you have any thoughts you’d like to share about the Green Paper in general or the Government’s approach to reforming disability services?

This might include thoughts on the language used in the Green Paper and the wider conversation about disability benefits, a statement summarising your opinion on the likelihood of the Green Paper in achieving its aims of saving the state money and getting more disabled people into work, or anything else you’d like to share.

Hello there, to make it clear I am not a UK citizen, but I am an international member of the DLN (Disabled Leaders Network) and I see answering your questions as my responsibility as a fellow disabled individual and leader. I apologise if I may seem rude, but I need to be extremely blunt because this is a matter of importance.

I believe that people who don’t understand what it is like to live with a disability, or know what it’s like to care for someone who is suffering from a physical or mental disability, shouldn’t be given the authority to decide how much support one gets in the name of benefitting the people. All they are actually doing is saving money by taking it from those who actually need and deserve it, and giving it to the government to buy, at worst, more weapons and, at best, building more parking areas.

Please, before you set a policy in motion ask yourself what is more important for your people, to live their lives a bit more peacefully knowing that those they love are not going to suffer when they themselves are gone, or to know that the next time they go out on picnic there is a parking area nearby.

Q2. Are you likely to be one of the people no longer eligible for PIP as a result of the proposed changes? If so, how do you feel the loss of this benefit will affect you?

Since I was never eligible to begin with as a non-UK citizen one might think It doesn’t affect me. But, in reality, it does. When I first learned that UK had an entire organisation dedicated to providing financial support and all sorts of assets available for their people. I genuinely thought that this was why they call it Great Britain and, honestly, I had major respect for it. It made me feel that the UK is a welcoming place and a good environment to continue my studies.

I was planning to study at a UK institute, and I am still considering conducting my research regarding AI and Mental Health in the UK. The UK has the traits of a great nation but when the government puts policies like these in place, it makes one think that the UK is taking inspiration from other major powerful nations. Governments that only talk about making their nation great again but don’t put much effort into their health sector or make it easily accessible for people.

Q3. What do you feel the barriers are to securing fulfilling employment as a disabled person in the UK?

Being able to secure a fulfilling employment is no small feat, even for a perfectly healthy person throughout the globe. In times when jobs vacancies are being filled by the second and too many people are left jobless, disabled people hardly have the assets to survive in this survival-of-the-fittest present state of affairs.

Companies need fast turnaround time, and individuals that can work under pressure and in fast-paced environments. In such places it gets hard to keep up, plus the lack of knowledge within management teams regarding disabilities makes it harder for them to understand and provide support.

In such situations like these, the best thing we can do is train the institutes. This includes not only workplaces but also at a school level, regarding different disabilities and how to support these individuals. The second thing we can do is to set a time limit and a work per day bar for individuals, to stop burn out altogether not just for disabled people but everyone all together. This way we can stop people from developing mental illnesses and support those who already suffer from disabilities.

To do this, we don’t need money we need accountability and discipline. We need to set schedules for productivity and similar schedules for breaks and rest. Not by lying lazily but by going on walks, meditating, eating sweet and healthy, and most importantly talking about anything other than work and connecting with others.

Q4. Is there anything else you’d like to share?

“Please ensure that our productivity is for positivity and not just progress’s sake.

Without our lives being peaceful, progress means nothing”

Fiction and the False Mirror: The Harm of Misrepresentation

I will be pointing out the fact that many people have weird stigmas or ideas about disabled people which are mostly based on fiction movies and novels. A large amount of these focus more on romance and less on truth; often they hardly have any research behind them leading to misunderstanding.

For example, in a movie about a person with cancer, the major focus is on two factors. The first is that the male lead has cancer, evoking sympathy from the audience, and the second is that female lead falls in love with him. They spend a happy time together before the male lead dies peacefully. The remainder of the film is dedicated to the female lead moving on, because “life goes on” and this is shown to be the moral of the story. The movie doesn’t focus on what the male lead suffered, how everyone treated him or how he felt himself. I can show you how overlooked and ignored disabled individual stories are by giving the example of the novel Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka.

In Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis, the protagonist becomes a monstrous insect—but the story is a masterful metaphor for how disabled people are treated when they can no longer ‘function’ for others. If Kafka had called it what it truly was—a story about abandonment and societal neglect of the disabled—it wouldn’t be in the canon. It needed disguise to be digested. Why do we only listen when pain wears a costume?

Do you see how no one would read it if the author had said it’s a story about a disabled person instead of cleverly using the metaphor of him turning into a giant insect and gain the readers’ attention?

Too often, society’s understanding of disability—especially mental health—is shaped by fiction. Novels, movies, and dramas reduce the complexity of disability to a poetic tragedy or inspirational trope.

Like my previous example, a character is diagnosed with cancer, and the story becomes about who falls in love with them, not what they actually endure. The pain is romanticized. The suffering is poetic. The end is either a ‘beautiful death’ or a ‘miraculous recovery.’ But real life isn’t that tidy.

The Myth of Sudden Madness: Misunderstanding Mental Illness

I would also like to point out how invisible illnesses like OCD and mental health issues at large are treated similarly. Like how everyone thinks a person develops a mental illness after a traumatic event, but in reality, it happens slowly, day by day, until it gets really bad. And most importantly if these symptoms are noticed early by others many disorders can never develop or get bad, but no one cares even when they notice because it doesn’t affect them.

The biggest example I can give you is my personal experience, how my family didn’t care about my OCD until I started crying and screaming and troubling them on a daily basis with my OCD habits. On the other hand, my younger sister’s OCD is not yet developed because I noticed it early on, along with my older sister, and we provided her with therapy before the disorder had completely developed.

We can protect more people from becoming mentally disabled if symptoms are caught early on by professionals or by people with lived experiences and family members.

The damaging idea we must confront is the belief that mental illness strikes like lightning—after trauma, heartbreak, or some dramatic trigger. Whereas in truth, most disorders—especially OCD, anxiety, and depression—creep in gradually. They build up slowly, silently, and often invisibly until they erupt into something undeniable.

But here’s the tragic part: so much of it is preventable—if we just noticed earlier.

We need systems that empower people to notice earlier—teachers, coworkers, friends. But they need to know what to look for and believe that early signs matter. Without this, we’re not supporting mental health—we’re reacting to its collapse.

We need to show them that healing doesn’t start in hospitals—it starts in stories. In homes. With people who care.

The Shame Barrier: Denial, Fear, and Early Diagnosis

Shame isn’t a protective instinct—it’s a weapon we turn on ourselves and our children out of fear. People think love means pretending nothing is wrong. But real love means checking when something feels off. That’s how we protect the people we love, right?

Being disabled isn’t the problem. Denying it is. That’s what hurts most.

One of the most dangerous obstacles to early care—especially for mental health, neurodivergence, or invisible disabilities—is shame. When someone gently suggests, ‘Your child might benefit from a check-up’—instead of receiving that as concern, too many families react as though they’ve been insulted.

But disability—whether mental or physical—is not an insult. It’s not a punishment. It’s not something to be ‘ashamed’ of. And most importantly: it is not a choice. If someone suggested your child might have diabetes, would you scream at them or rush to the doctor to confirm and start treatment? Why is mental health different? Why is autism, ADHD, OCD, or mobility impairment treated like a moral flaw rather than a medical reality?

Early diagnosis doesn’t just help the individual. It prevents escalation. It gives families tools. And in some cases, it saves lives.

So, let’s stop confusing denial with love. Let’s stop punishing concern.

Getting your child checked isn’t defeat—it’s responsibility. It’s courage. It’s love in action.

This may be the most important thing I’ve said so far. It gives parents the permission to do better without shaming them—it reframes the fear.

I think people ignore early signs not just because of shame, but because of fear—fear of what it means. If their child is disabled, then what? Will school accept them? Will friends stay? Will the family support them?They’re scared it’ll ruin their plans, their image, their peace.

But you know what ruins everything more?

Letting your child suffer quietly. Making them feel like they’re wrong for being themselves. I think if someone had told me earlier that I didn’t have to pretend to be strong all the time… I wouldn’t have felt like I had to hide everything.

We’re telling parents:

‘It’s not your fault. But it is your job now. So do it—don’t run from it.’

And I think more people need to hear that.

We don’t need more systems. We need more courage. The courage to say the word “disabled” without shame. The courage to check early, speak honestly, and love loudly. The courage to admit that being strong doesn’t mean hiding pain—it means refusing to let pain go unseen.

If policies are to serve people, they must begin by listening to the people who live the reality. Not in polite quotes. Not in filtered language. But in truths like the ones written here—raw, loud, and still full of love.

Because we’re not asking for pity.

We’re asking for presence, and if that makes anyone uncomfortable…

Good.

Change usually does.

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Written by Areeba Khalid