Box-Ticking Exercise: Ellie Simmonds’ Inclusion on Strictly is Hard Fought

Box-Ticking Exercise is the new monthly(-ish) column by Melissa Parker in which she dissects ableism and the portrayal of disability in tv film and media. Being M, this is of course all done with her pen as a scalpel.

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Columnist Allison Pearson’s piece about the new series of Strictly Come Dancing expresses an often loud, profoundly entrenched privilege – the right to spew bile mindlessly and without consequence.

“From mis-matched same-sex couples to the show’s first contestant with dwarfism, it’s clear producers value ‘inclusion’ over entertainment.”  

She persists elsewhere in the piece, “but fans I have spoken to already worry our much-loved dance competition is turning into a box-ticking exercise.”  

In a world where disabled people have been hidden away for so long, our equality will always feel like their oppression.   

It chips away gradually at their flawed worldview – they have the right – we are thrown scraps of our humanity if we do as we’re told. 

“Let me stop myself. Do you know what I am doing right now? I am doing what I always feel I have to do, making sure that I come across as happy, positive, and easy to work with.”   

Listen, truly listen to Rose Ayling-Ellis’ in her Alternative MacTaggart lecture.  

“My reality isn’t always nice.” Rose continues.

Pearson, in turn, filtered and smoothed Ayling-Ellis’ time on Strictly, which according to her narrative, “felt properly ground-breaking. It was an artistic triumph that required no allowances to be made. Millions may well feel this latest move is a step too far.”  

There is no such privilege of piercing, unthinking honesty for disabled people—just the party line.  

Not to mention the fact that Pearson’s statement about Rose just isn’t true – allowances were made. She had a sign language interpreter with her at all times, her dance partner Giovanni and others she worked with ensured she could understand what they were saying at all times. 

Ayling-Ellis’ very appearance furthered the cause of BSL as a language, yet all of this is brushed under the carpet as we hold her aloft as this bastion of a “good disabled person”.

You can feel Ayling-Ellis’ fear, her meticulous consideration, in her still-filtered truth. After all, she’s the “deaf pioneer” and “the poster girl for the deaf community.” She needs to feed egos – to appear palatable, restrained and manageable lest that poster, and her platform, are pulled and sliced.   

This precarious position is used to further the cause of ableism and ignorance. The article compares Ayling-Ellis and Paralympic swimmer Ellie Simmonds among this year’s competitors. To use one disabled woman as a prop to strike another is unsettlingly commonplace. 

Often ableism isn’t as overt as slurs, chants or slogans. Rather, its potency comes from its insidiousness. It’s in the quiet ways we’re told about who wields power against us and the consequences of our nonconformity. 

Silence is the most effective and eloquent thing a non-disabled person can contribute to this conversation.  

However, the column inches, Twitter word counts, and those millions of people make plain a simply held truth – a premise upon which our society is built, and it cannot be allowed to alter – non-disabled must have the final word.   

This isn’t about them, but expressing this sentiment turns social media into a blood sport.   

In many ways, these views are straight from childhood, a different era but one which seeped into ours: disabled women should be pliable. They shouldn’t make a fuss or object. They shouldn’t expect more, and all minorities should expect harsh rebukes if they don’t integrate pleasingly – just the right way.  

Integration has always meant sanding ourselves down and taking it on the chin. Pearson, let’s not forget, fundamentally, wrote in a national newspaper that people who can’t hide or minimise their disabilities should conceal themselves – they shouldn’t be on television.  

Treating disabled people as human beings is a step too far.  

No one can be allowed to overwhelm an essential premise of our society. We should take what they give us. They’ll be compassionate in a sneery, soulless way.  

They will rip apart our hard-fought battles and minimise them with empty public displays of empathy. But occasionally, bile will rise in their throats to be articulated softly, loudly because our presence has pushed them too far.   

After all, you can’t expect the world to adapt to you when that has been your rightful burden.  How dare you?  

But how do we dismantle such a vast yet fragile structure? We keep going – we push forward.   

The reaction of those who fear change was never respectful – or silent. But that goes against their nature – their position in this fragile structure.   

Having written quite extensively about disability representation in the media, I have been called a “wh*re” and a “c*nt” for daring to suggest that disabled people are mistreated and requestion that heaven forbid disabled people should play disabled roles.   

It’s part of the daily reality, it would be effortless to sit on the sidelines, but we, whether on TV, in film or articles like this, are fighting back. We’re built different – the generations of disabled people who came before us ensured it.  

Still, as soon as a disabled woman dares to pioneer, she is no longer tolerable.   

The trolling and backlash – both on paper and across social media – experienced by Ayling-Ellis and Simmonds proves that reality.  Many non-disabled people instinctively attack when set against the mildest scrutiny and the mildest criticism of their deeply held – deeply flawed – beliefs.  

In the face of our new hard-earned reality and our nerve, brass, and insolence, we need to be put back in our place. But sheer nostalgia-tinged ignorance won’t move us, nor will the collective force of opinions, column inches, and Twitter word count.   

This “tick-box exercise” is slowly dismantling a worldview, a system of oppression – and that was always going to be an ugly, bitter process, but it’s one we’re ready for.   

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