Jennifer McShane on sex and disability: 'There are no ‘how-to’ guides'

What we can do to make disability, dating and sex less taboo and more inclusive?

Jennifer McShane: "I had to learn as I went along and because I know my own body better than my dates, I have to relay all that back because otherwise, it ain’t happening."

“So, what sort of stuff do you like to do?” It’d be much simpler to answer if this were a regular question. 

However, asked in terms of a casual hookup when you have a partial physical disability, all I find myself thinking wearily is, “Here we go again”. 

Considering the guy in question is almost a total stranger, do I tell him now or later that only certain positions are comfortable, that my energy will only last so long (so he’ll have to do, well, a bit more) and that external stimulation is better before anything else starts (that’s not an issue exclusive to me, mind!)?

In the often murky world of casual dating/sex/hookups whatever your preference might be, the ‘stuff’ that is on my checklist above is far from exclusive to a woman with mild cerebral palsy (CP), but when you have the added complexity of trying to keep everything as sexy as possible factoring in a disability, to say that it’s never like it is in the movies would be a literal (do we ever see sex and disability on screen?) and massive understatement. In fact, that’s really why I shy away from casual dating.

Because there’s so much emotional labour involved on my part to make sure my partner is as comfortable as possible and really OK and cool with everything (before any clothing gets removed), I tend to think, will it even be worth it? 

Very, very occasionally it is, but mostly it’s not. And that’s before I get to the splints that need to be gone before he even knows they exist (removing them in a sort of unbalanced strip tease probably isn’t his idea of foreplay), the fact that I really, truly hate my skinny calves and occasionally want to leave my bottom half covered, and oh yeah, it’ll likely hurt, depending on his size (average is my ideal, guys!). 

I worry about all this before anything else — including the core issue, safety — because I’m supposed to have it together as a 30-something woman and should be able to enjoy a healthy, safe sex life. 

All this is much easier to navigate in a relationship but in the world of online dating, it feels a momentous task.

'Disabled people aren’t generally seen as people with sexual needs, desires and wants'

We don’t really like talking about sex, and disability and sex even less so. 

Disabled people aren’t generally seen as people with sexual needs, desires and wants, in my experience. 

I’ve lost count of the, “so can you…” questions on apps, never mind the comment from a nurse years back: “Surely you don’t need a smear test?” she said, eyes wide, incredulous that I might be sexually active.

There are no ‘how-to’ guides, no Cosmo-esque picture features tailored to disability or chronic illness. 

I had to learn as I went along and because I know my own body better than my dates, I have to relay all that back because otherwise, it ain’t happening. 

Carrie Bradshaw’s column has nothing on me. It means a lot of fun and almost all the spontaneity goes from these encounters (bar the one guy I recall who truly had no hangups about the CP) and I’m exhausted and just want to sleep when we hit the sheets.

I’m not alone in this as kink educator Aoife Murray ( @aoife.murray.life) explains. 

“When I work with those who have disabilities, they are usually grouped into two categories. First, there’s the pressure to be easygoing enough. I think, regardless of whether you have a disability or you don’t, it’s a very peculiar thing in modern dating culture, where we have to seem casual enough and aloof enough. So, ‘Oh, no, I don’t have any feelings. I don’t have any needs. I don’t need to talk about them right away or I shouldn’t really express them’.”

Aoife, who has a chronic illness herself, works with those who have disabilities and those who don’t and, visits college campuses to talk about ‘toolkits’ they can use to navigate intimate relationships from anything involving kinks, sex toys, boundaries and role-playing.

She says the pressure to be ‘casual’ in dating can appear an obstacle to those with disabilities: “This pressure to seem as nonchalant as possible is very much there. And I don’t think it’s realistic for anybody. And in fact, one thing to bear in mind is that when you set boundaries in a relationship, or in a sexual encounter with somebody, it’s not something you’re burdening them with. 

“In fact, it can actually be a real asset, because you’ve just handed them a roadmap of how to engage with you, and you’ve removed that guesswork for them. And that can be a weight off their mind entirely. 

“And the next thing people with disabilities, in particular, are struggling with is the societal expectations we have for them, of what it means to be a disabled person. 

“We have this awful habit of infantilising people with disabilities, where we don’t trust that they are the best judges of what’s good for them... that they understand their well-being and their safety and what they need. And we almost de-sexualise them as a category because of it.”

Aoife Murray, kink educator

Normalising conversations

The challenge we have now when it comes to intimacy and disability is normalising the conversation, Aoife continues, so that disabled people aren’t the only ones advocating for their needs: a shared emotional and often physical load is the aim.

“A lot of my work is teaching people to advocate for themselves when it comes to intimacy, regardless of physical strength and so on. And trying to encourage that slow cultural change, because everybody has limits. Everyone has their line in the sand somewhere. 

“And in the case of disabled people, yes, they might feel they have a few more needs or limitations than the average person, but everyone has needs. If we approach it this way, we can make dating culture and sexuality and intimacy, a much more inclusive place. 

“Because right now, the responsibility seems to be on the person with a disability; they’re the ones who are introducing this conversation.

“And if we can create more of a culture where we’re generally having these conversations with people, they’ll feel better able to advocate for themselves and say, OK, well, here’s how I’m gonna have an orgasm or not, or here’s the kind of stimulation I need, whatever it might be. You’ve created a space where people with disabilities feel like they can express those needs.

“It’s just your partner, whether it’s long-term or for a night and it’s about normalising the conversation so you don’t feel it’s a burden — because it’s not. It’s a helpful roadmap. 

“And if you disclose those needs as a disabled person and they aren’t responsive in the way you need, you simply know they aren’t the partner for you.”

Jennifer McShane: I’ve lost count of the, 'so can you…' questions on apps, never mind the comment from a nurse years back: 'Surely you don’t need a smear test?'

Stigma in different forms

*Marie from Dublin, in her late 20s, was diagnosed with Avascular Necrosis at just 23, a rare bone disorder that affects the lunate, one of eight wrist bones, preventing it from receiving the necessary amount of blood, leading the bone to break repeatedly and eventually die. 

She had a life-changing surgery that gave much of her life back, though she will live with it forever. Combined with a heart condition, her dating life has felt the effects of both.

“I appear very able-bodied,” she says. “You look at me and think nothing is wrong. Now, if you look at me closely, you see a massive scar on my wrist, but that’s about it. 

“Even texting is difficult sometimes, I get really tired just from that because I take a lot of medications and I’m constantly fatigued. But I think I’m invincible and while my condition is debilitating, I’m also learning what it means to identify as a disabled person or not.”

Marie says that in the dating world, she opens up about her conditions but only when she’s comfortable. “I don’t say, oh, I live with multiple chronic conditions on the profile. It’s once I chat with him a little more. I’m pretty upfront and transparent.”

But she stresses that stigma can come in many different guises when you deal with chronic conditions.

“After one particular wrist surgery, I had a questionnaire to fill out and one of them was rate your sexual ability or challenges. I assumed they meant general intercourse, but feeling brave, I wrote, because of my wrist, self-pleasure was my challenge because if you don’t have a good wrist, and let’s be honest, all girls start using their fingers, you can’t do that. And I can’t! My wrists get too tired. 

“And then I gave the form in and I came home and had the biggest panic attack, thinking that I was wrong to write that, even though I’m a sexual being! I’m not wrong to express that, but I’m made to feel that I am. Tied to this is I’ve had a fair few people who almost feel like they can fix me. Like one date with a guy who told me that he could fix my heart condition with proper diet and exercise!”

Aoife pointed out that sex toys are regular tools in ‘kits’ when it comes to those with chronic conditions or disabilities but these are still stigmatised regardless.

Marie recounts a story where she expressed that using one was her preference, and her partner, knowing this, got annoyed and said, ‘What’s the point of me even being here [if you use that]?’

So it appears what’s ‘usual or normal’ in casual dating is still very much up for debate in dating and sex in 2024 and we have work ahead to do to change that.

• Some names have been changed