Meet Penelope, our newest ambassador. Penelope is currently undertaking a double diploma in English and French Law at the universities of Leicester and Strasbourg. Like many students, Penelope is thinking about her move into work. But what does that look like when you’re a graduate with disabilities? Let’s find out about Penelope’s experience…
The following blog is written by Penelope in her own voice.
Graduate positions have no doubt become harder for even the most poised to attain. Statistics highlight higher rates of unemployment amongst those who’ve recently left higher education, with those who do succeed often occupying positions which do not generally correspond to their level of expertise.
Whether you are currently in the thick of it or have clawed yourself out, I do not need to tell you the proposed solution is to set yourself apart through volunteering, foreign language acquisition, or commercial awareness. I would argue this is neither sustainable nor efficient for any population, particularly those who experience disability. Take it from a disabled woman who has tried everything.
Being born disabled in a socio-economically disadvantaged area, exceedingly little was expected of me. I was, maybe, going to get a few GCSEs if I was lucky, but certainly, nothing that would get me where I wanted to be – living independently with a successful career. This goal would not be reached without peril. If incessant micro-aggressions and bi-weekly forays into outright discrimination had taught me anything, it was that the non-disabled find themselves irrevocably fascinated by freakishly intelligent and overly mature disabled people and, if I fit this criteria, I would be allowed to integrate. I knew once I did, any ideas I had would be largely ignored, and that my peers would never truly be fascinated by my thoughts in themselves, but rather with the realisation that my kind were capable of them. This realisation brought a sickly weight to my stomach, but if this was my only route to livelihood, I had to go down it.
At this moment in time, circa age eight, I was already above average, but as I understood then, great would never be good enough. The two languages I had under my belt thanks to a foreign parent had to eventually be upgraded, the sessions I ran explaining disability to audiences up to eight times my age had to become audiences with parliamentary figures, and I could not make a single fault whilst getting there.
I am writing this aged nineteen and living in a new city, as a repeat guest and advisor of Parliament the Executive who is currently navigating moving abroad to do a masters in law taught in her third language whilst learning her fourth. How did I do?
Although I consistently perceive myself as falling short of my own standards, I make no attempt to deny my labour has lead me to an objectively charmed life. This places my introductory statement in question; a poor disabled girl who went to failing schools did it the hard way, so the logical conclusion is everyone can. If any future recruiters are reading this, please read the below explanation before judging me unfit for legal practise.
As I begin to navigate application processes often required to access internships, vacation schemes, and training contracts, I am acutely aware that I have been rejected from every single post I have applied to with this method– something which does not correlate well with the criteria of excellency I have objectively fulfilled. Despite vigorously checking diversity and inclusion statements and entry requirements and being greeted with nothing but green flags for firms I eventually apply to, I get rejected profusely each and every time. This, it seems, points towards the system being infiltrated by bias. An obvious counter-argument to this is that I must simply be incapable of filling out forms. I thought of that too, wanted to believe it so I would have something tangible to develop, so I checked my approach with third parties: my applications would all be faultless if my disability was left out.
It is no coincidence that my empire of accolades and the life I have built from them were constructed through collaboration and conversation rather than formalised interrogation. My mastery of French started through my teacher asked me a question about my disability. My string of parliamentary appearances began after I raised ten thousand pounds in ten minutes through critiques of current law. My freelance work began by expressing my disenchantment with contemporary sex education. All of the aforementioned do of course have formal processes one could make use of, and so to do those I do not have the word count to mention, yet my work only seems valued when I provide live evidence of it. This in itself is not a privilege the majority of disabled people have at their disposal; frequent hospital visits often mean we are likely to miss out on opportunities to gain formal qualifications and opportunities to use them whilst networking, especially considering we have established more is expected of us. Our current systems clearly fail.
Like any good lawyer, or a woman long-habituated to playing Tetris to enter public toilets, I come bearing solutions – two to be exact.
First and foremost, be ready to make the first move. One of the most profound experiences my advocacy has gifted me was a conversation with a young disabled girl in which she admitted that, before seeing me do so, she had no idea disabled girls could speak publicly. Disability youth services are chronically underfunded, rendering mindsets like this heartbreakingly common, with many writing employment prospects off entirely. If you are dedicated to change, be it. I’d recommend starting by joining Evenbreak.
Second, be conversation and scenario-based. Most of the population has not spoken to a disabled person in any meaningful detail before, when you pair this with our likelihood of non-conformity to commonplace views of employees, you have a recipe for disaster. Through adopting this tip, you not only become more diverse and inclusive towards those who have not had the same life circumstances, but you also get right to the heart of any critical thinking skills they have in real-time, rather than focusing on past achievements that may not be able to be replicated.
Take it from a disabled woman who has tried everything.
Thank you for sharing your story with us Penelope.
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