by Aftergraduatecolleague, Jacqueline Child, like so many other busy Americans in their twenties trying to find a partner or hookup, dove into the tumultuous world of dating apps. In 2019, a few weeks after I started actively trying to meet someone, she matched with a guy on Bumble. When they decided to meet in person, he suggested they go for a walk. Jacqueline responded by telling him that she was recovering from surgery, so a picnic would be better.
When he asked about surgery, Jacqueline told him she had a connective tissue disorder. She then responded: “Well… I hope you’re not planning on having children because that would be very selfish. “That’s how genetics works.”
This was just one of dozens of offensive messages Colorado native Jacqueline had to endure as she tried to navigate the toxic world of dating culture as a woman with a disability or chronic illness. And that particular message isn’t all that uncommon: As a young stroke survivor, even strangers have said it to me online before.
Disabled people trying to enter the era of online dating have to deal with much more than ignorant comments. There are personal safety concerns (especially for people with physical disabilities) and the difficulty of navigating online dating platforms. And there’s a lot more pressure involved in what most people consider the fun part: meeting in person in the hopes that online flirting translates into real life.
I don’t know anyone, disabled or not, who actually likes dating apps. For most of us, they are simply a means to an end. Having to promote yourself online with a perfectly curated profile, deal with frequent rejections, and spend hours trying to interact with strangers you may never meet is exhausting.
Those of us who are disabled or chronically ill also have to deal with the anxiety that comes with not knowing how a match will respond. How do I tell them? When do I tell them? Will they ghost me or reject me immediately? The anxiety generated by the disclosure of a disability can be paralyzing in itself.
After being called a “burden” too many times, Jacqueline began to feel like maybe she wasn’t worthy of a romantic relationship. One day in 2021, she told her older sister, Alexa, that she wished there was a free, legit dating app. specifically designed for disabled and chronically ill people. Alexa, who had watched Jacqueline struggle with hurtful comments for years, responded, “Let’s do it ourselves.”
Dateability, an app created by sisters Jacqueline and Alexa Child, wants to be “an inclusive place where people feel safe and feel like they matter” to disabled people.
In October 2022, the sisterlaunched a free app called Dateability in North America. By the end of 2023, they have 11,000 members, from wheelchair users to immunocompromised people and even able-bodied allies.
“We want to be an inclusive place where people feel safe and feel like they matter,” Jacqueline said.
The decision to welcome non-disabled allies on its app came of not wanting to send the important and underrated message that disabled people should only date other disabled people. “[Disabled people] They are free to love whoever they want and they deserve it,” Alexa said. “But this is a good way to filter out people who would discriminate based on disability.”
Personally, I completely agree with the sisters’ decision to include non-disabled people on this platform, because I am very open to being with a partner who can do the things that I physically cannot. Still, I’ve always been hesitant about dating apps because I’m a hopeless romantic with a nostalgic penchant for cute, chance encounters. I have no real idea what I’m looking for or, to put it plainly, if anyone is looking for someone like me.
Still, I had to try this app, at least, for the sake of good journalism.
So, I recently downloaded the app, created a profile, added some photos, and started swiping. The app lacked the sleek, streamlined aesthetic of some of the mainstream apps, but it was fairly easy to use, efficient, and accessible on more devices than just my cell phone. However, as I swiped, I saw some of the same faces appear again.
Since Dateability is relatively new and serves a minority demographic (although the largest minority demographic), the pool of potential matches that met my age and location preferences was understandably limited. And speaking of minorities, there wasn’t much racial diversity either, but this didn’t surprise me: the stigma against disability in immigrant communities (among other communities of color) is a big impediment to speaking publicly about a disability.
But there was one seemingly harmless element that made this app a game-changer. While completing the routine questions about age, height, and location, I came across a question titled “Dating Deets.” He then provided a fairly extensive list of options to broadly describe my disability, chronic illness, or lack thereof.
In fact, there was a box with a precise descriptor for me to select: ambulatory wheelchair user. The phrase appeared at the bottom of my profile along with all my other personal details. It was very liberating to know that whoever I meet will already know this part of my identity, as well as my political affiliation or religion, and will be okay with it.
“With the ‘Date Deets’ question, no awkward discussion about disclosure is needed,” Alexa said.
By making a disability or chronic illness no longer something that needs to be disclosed, you help eradicate some of the stigma that comes with it. In this space, our disabilities become a marker of identity versus something to be ashamed of.
“If we can be open and normalize disability, not only will our community benefit because we will see ourselves as more worthy, but people outside of our community will also see us that way,” Jacqueline said.
In 2024, Jacqueline and Alexa plan to work on design and technology aspects that will hopefully expand the app’s accessibility in North America and other regions around the world. As dating capacity grows, I hope it continues to become even more inclusive, which may require a thoughtful approach to disabled people of color.
Having all types of people on this app will help ensure that we, as a community, are not intentionally separating ourselves on the margins of society (the disability-hostile world does that for us anyway). Many of us want to be here, but only in a dating world with more empathy, acceptance and accessibility.
