Society Still Has a Problem with Its Own Ableism

The remarks made on Machong Chismisan are only one instance of a much broader reality for PWDs. Wherever they are in the world, they face barriers in their daily lives. They may be welcomed into spaces that claim to be safe, only to find that they are merely tolerated, not accepted.

In the Philippines, even the process of claiming benefits intended for PWDs has become a source of contention. Republic Act (RA) 10754 expands the benefits and privileges granted to PWDs, including discounts and VAT exemptions on eligible goods and services. To claim these benefits, qualified individuals must present the required identification and documentation.

In 2025, Lowbrow Casual Restaurants drew backlash for its comments on fake PWD IDs, which also implicated legitimate ones. The establishment said it was “impossible to draw clean lines around what disorders should get a discount,” and suggested that people could “stare at them while squinting, call them Satan, [and] break your leg, become truly disabled, show them how superior your disability is.”

I write this not to beat a dead horse, but to illustrate a persistent misconception that disability can be identified through a single, stereotypical image. People do not have to use wheelchairs or walk with crutches to prove that they have a disability. According to the World Institute on Disability, the majority of disabilities are non-apparent. Some disabilities, including certain mental, intellectual, and neurological conditions, may affect a person’s daily activities without being immediately visible to others.

For restaurants and other establishments, granting statutory benefits is part of complying with the law. But when disabilities are treated with suspicion or mockery, it raises a troubling question: How many people have felt pressured to explain, justify, or even conceal their disabilities?

Personally, I saw a sliver of hope when I’mPerfect was released later that year. The film by Sigrid Andrea Bernardo, starring Earl Amaba and Krystel Go, offered a glimpse into the everyday lives and relationships of people with Down syndrome. That sliver of hope was immediately crushed as I sat inside the cinema, hearing the words “mongoloid” and “abnormal” being thrown around by my fellow viewers. The words slipped off their tongues with ease, like they were said almost instinctively.

A technical critique could argue that it was not a perfect movie, but still, no one could deny that representation of people with Down syndrome in mainstream media was long overdue. Never mind the remarks in the cinema, I thought. The film had even won Best Picture at the 51st Metro Manila Film Festival. But ignoring those comments did not erase the deeply embedded problem.

It became even more difficult to let them go when the criticism snowballed to Krystel herself. She won Best Actress for her performance in the film, becoming the first actress with Down syndrome to receive the award. Yet some questioned whether she deserved the recognition, wondering how much acting she needed to do to portray a character with Down syndrome when she has the condition herself.

All of this is to say that, time and again, we see examples of PWDs being treated unfairly. People would label them as incapable, pretentious, and unproductive who are “nakatunganga lang.” They are viewed as an added cost when infrastructure and establishments are made accessible. Their circumstances can be exploited for financial gain or turned into opportunities for performative advocacy. They become the butt of a joke or a means to an end.

But they are not any of these things. They are people first and foremost, and they are not their disabilities.

Every day, PWDs encounter ableism, or prejudice and discrimination against disabled people. Ashley Eisenmenger explains on Access Living: “At its heart, ableism is rooted in the assumption that disabled people require ‘fixing’ and defines people by their disability. Like racism and sexism, ableism classifies entire groups of people as ‘less than,’ and includes harmful stereotypes, misconceptions, and generalizations of people with disabilities.”

Ableism takes many forms, some of which we may overlook in our daily interactions. Speaking to an autistic person as if they were an infant is not inherently thoughtful or caring. Nor is it a compliment to tell someone with a non-apparent disability that you “had no idea” about their condition because they “don’t look disabled.” Remarks like these can dismiss a person’s experiences and reinforce the notion that disability must look a certain way to be believed.

In 2008, the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (UNCRPD) entered into force, establishing an international framework for protecting the rights of persons with disabilities. At the time, the convention had more than 160 signatories, and the Philippines was the first member state of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) to ratify it. The country already had legislation protecting PWDs, including the Magna Carta for Persons with Disability (Republic Act No. 7277), enacted in 1992. Subsequent amendments and laws have expanded these protections and benefits.

However, not everyone has the means to pursue legal action, and with rampant prejudice, filing a complaint over every instance of discrimination may be impractical or emotionally exhausting. What good are these words embedded into law if they are not realized through action?

Incidents spark outrage. That spark dies within a few months, and most forget, but PWDs do not. The consequences do not disappear when public attention moves on. PWDs continue to encounter the same barriers, assumptions, and prejudices in their daily lives. These struggles do not only exist when a moment goes viral or a comment becomes the talk of the town. They exist all of the time, seeping into daily moments and pockets of time, even as the world keeps turning.