February often centers a narrow version of Black history—one that highlights a few names, a few dates, and a few victories, while leaving out the fullness of Black life. Too often, disabled Black people are erased from that story altogether.
But Black disabled history is not a footnote. It is foundational.
Black disabled people have always been organizing, leading, surviving, imagining freedom, and building collective care—often while navigating racism, ableism, poverty, surveillance, and exclusion at the same time. Honoring Black History Month without centering Black disabled history means telling an incomplete story of resistance and liberation.
This February, we are naming what has always been true: Black disabled history is Black history.
The Roots of Black Disabled Resistance
Black disabled people have always been part of liberation movements—even when history books refused to record their presence.
One powerful example is Johnnie Lacy, a Black disabled woman who became a central leader in the disability rights movement in Berkeley, California. Lacy was a fierce advocate for disabled people living at the intersections of race, gender, poverty, and institutionalization. She organized around housing access, independent living, and community-based supports, while also challenging racism within disability spaces that often centered white leadership and experiences.
Lacy understood that access without racial justice was incomplete—and that liberation movements must reflect the people most impacted by systemic harm. Her leadership reminds us that Black disabled women have long been shaping Disability Justice, even when their names were left out of mainstream narratives.
Black disabled organizers were present in civil rights campaigns, mutual aid networks, church-based organizing, labor movements, and community defense efforts. They built ramps when no one else would. They shared medications, rides, food, and care long before “community care” became a buzzword.
Their resistance was not always loud or visible—but it was constant.
Disability, Racism, and the Politics of Survival
For many Black leaders, disability was not separate from their activism—it was shaped by it.
Fannie Lou Hamer lived with chronic pain and disability following a brutal police beating while she was jailed for attempting to register to vote. Her disability was a direct result of state violence. Yet history often celebrates her courage without naming the cost her body paid for freedom movements.
This pattern repeats again and again: Black people disabled by labor exploitation, medical neglect, environmental racism, police violence, and poverty—then erased from disability narratives that center whiteness, independence, and productivity.
Black disabled history forces us to confront uncomfortable truths:
- Disability is often produced by systems of harm
- Survival itself can be an act of resistance
- Access is inseparable from racial and economic justice
Black Disabled Joy, Culture, and Legacy
Black disabled history is not only about struggle—it is also about creativity, imagination, and joy.
Writers, artists, thinkers, and organizers like Audre Lorde wrote openly about illness, embodiment, rage, pleasure, and survival, insisting that caring for ourselves and each other was a political act. Black disabled culture has always made space for softness, rest, humor, and truth-telling—even when the world demanded silence.
From music and poetry to fashion, storytelling, and community rituals, Black disabled people have shaped culture while refusing narratives that reduce us to pain or perseverance.
Our joy is not accidental. It is cultivated. It is defended. It is radical.
Why This History Matters Now
Black disabled people are still navigating systems that were never built with us in mind—healthcare, housing, education, employment, disaster response, and public safety. When Black disabled history is erased, so are the lessons we need to survive and transform these systems today.
Centering Black disabled history:
- Expands how we understand Black liberation
- Challenges ableist definitions of leadership and strength
- Grounds Disability Justice in its Black, queer, and radical roots
- Honors ancestors whose names we may never know—but whose care carried us forward
This February, remembrance must move beyond symbolism. It must be honest. It must be inclusive. And it must make room for Black disabled people—not as an afterthought, but as central architects of freedom.
Carrying the Legacy Forward
Black disabled history is living history. It continues in organizers, artists, caregivers, advocates, and community members who are building access, demanding accountability, and imagining futures where we are not left behind.
Honoring this history is not just about looking back—it’s about choosing what kind of future we are willing to fight for.
One where Black disabled lives are visible.
One where access is non-negotiable.
One where care is collective, and liberation includes us all.
Footnotes & Resources
- Bell, Chris. Introducing White Disability Studies: A Modest Proposal. Disability Studies Quarterly, vol. 26, no. 2, 2006.
https://dsq-sds.org/index.php/dsq/article/view/406/545 - Fannie Lou Hamer – Speeches, testimony, and historical context.
National Archives Civil Rights Collection:
https://www.archives.gov/research/african-americans/individuals/fannie-lou-hamer - Johnnie Lacy – Archival materials and movement history.
Center for Independent Living (Berkeley):
https://www.berkeleycil.org/about/history - Lorde, Audre. The Cancer Journals. Aunt Lute Books, 1980.
https://auntlute.com/products/the-cancer-journals - Lewis, Talila A. “Disability Justice Is a Global Movement.”
Disability Justice framework writings and lectures:
https://www.talilalewis.com/blog - National Black Disability Coalition. Black Disabled History and Leadership.
https://www.nbdc.org - Sins Invalid. Skin, Tooth, and Bone: The Basis of Movement Is Our People.
https://www.sinsinvalid.org/skin-tooth-and-bone
You can watch our resource guide here.
