Rewriting REPpresentation

In media, representation has long been treated as a visual exercise, who is seen, who is centred, and who is aestheticised.  Representation runs deeper than imagery, we ask who gets to tell the story?

To rewrite representation is not to just appear; it is to speak.

Writers like Emily Tisshaw and Roisin Clear are part of a growing shift: one that moves disability away from a spectacle and towards self-definition. Their work doesn’t attempt to package disability into something easily consumable. Instead, it insists on honesty, messy, complex, and at times, uncomfortable.

For Emily, authorship is rooted in truth-telling: “It means being able to tell my story with as much honesty, grit, and integrity as possible”, she says. Roisin echoes this sentiment, reinforcing a shared commitment to storytelling that resists sanitisation.

That word ‘ugly’ feels intentional. It pushes against an industry that has long relied on two extremes: inspiration or invisibility. Disabled people are either framed as extraordinary or absent altogether. Rarely are they allowed to exist in the in-between.

The Absence Problem

Amid all the recent conversations about diversity, disability remains noticeably absent. Not misrepresented, just missing.

“I’m mostly shocked by the lack of representation,” says Roisin. “It would be great to have enough disabled people in literature and media to be able to form an opinion…Right now, they’re mostly absent.” Emily shares this frustration, pointing to absence as the industry’s most pressing issue.

The absence creates a vacuum. When disabled voices are excluded, narratives are often shaped by non-disabled perspectives, resulting in stories that feel flattened, dramatised or disconnected from lived reality.

Even within spaces that claim inclusivity, disability is frequently treated as a “specialist” topic, confined to awareness campaigns of designated features, rather than embedded into everyday cultural storytelling.

Beyond the ‘Disability Story’

Both writers highlight a gap that is often overlooked: the absence of disabled voices in lifestyle media.

“There’s a lot of disability where the main story is about disability,” explains Emily Tisshaw. “But there’s not always media for disability. We want beauty, makeup, fashion, and food writing too.” Roisin similarly emphasises the need to move beyond one-dimensional narratives.

It’s a subtle but critical distinction. Disabled people are often positioned as subjects of discussions, rather than contributors to broader cultural conversations. Their identities become the headline, rather than the perspective within it.

In reality, disabilities shape how stories are told, not whether they can be told at all.

“It’s definitely made me more observant and introspective,” says Roisin. “I also try to be as open, nuanced, and impartial as possible when storytelling.” Emily expresses a similar approach, framing disability as a source of depth rather than limitation. 

The Industry Barrier

The issue is not a lack of talent; it is a lack of access.

“Less space and opportunity for disability stories,” says Emily. “Within the media, disability stories are either sensationalised, politicised, or absent.” Roisin reinforces this pattern, highlighting how narrow editorial frameworks affect authentic storytelling. 

Even within progressive media spaces, disability is often treated as a niche rather than a universal. Asked whether the industry still sees disability this way, Roisin answers plainly, “yes 100%.” Because disability is not niche, it intersects with gender, race, class, and identity in ways that are embedded within everyday life. To isolate is to misunderstand it entirely. 

For both writers, storytelling is not just creative expression; it is reclamation. “My personal experience and my truth,” says Emily, when asked what writing has allowed her to reclaim. Roisim echoes this, framing writing as a process of self-understanding.

Writing becomes both reflective and resistant, a way of processing identity, while pushing back against the narrative imposed from the outside.

Visibility on Their Own Terms

At the core of this shift is a redefinition of visibility.

“It means listening to your body, your mind, and what’s within you,” says Roisin, “instead of following the rules set by a world that isn’t always designed for you.” 

This marks a move away from performative inclusion and towards authentic presence.

If representation is to evolve, the industry must move beyond surface-level inclusion. It must create space, not just for disabled people to exist within the media, but to shape it. 

“Accessibility is complex and vast, like disability, and there isn’t one answer or quick fix,’ says Emily.

That begins with listening, with trusting disabled creatives to define their own narratives, rather than fitting them into pre-existing ones.