When a child finds themselves in a story and realises they don’t need to earn their place by being extraordinary, the landscape changes for all of us, writes Deborah Lawson.
I never saw myself in the pages of the books I read as a child. Not in the brave adventurers, the fairy tales, and certainly not in the characters celebrated as heroes. My relationship with disability began at eight, after a neurological injury left me living with agonising pain, debilitating symptoms and epilepsy. Yet there was no framework, no language, and no stories to make sense of it. Inclusive practice wasn’t explored back then, so I learnt to hide my pain to fit into a world that wasn’t built for difference. Everything changed at eighteen, when an unrelated event left me physically disabled, and I could no longer hide what I’d once been able to mask. The exclusion and barriers I experienced were immediate and overwhelming. But what struck me most wasn’t only the inaccessibility around me, it was the realisation that I’d reached adulthood without ever having meaningful conversations in school, or anywhere else, about human diversity, disability, or inclusion. If I had, I might have felt more equipped to navigate the world as a disabled person and not grown up trying to mask how much I was struggling.
Stories that feature disabled or neurodivergent characters, or children from varied cultural, racial, and religious backgrounds, are vital as they offer mirrors and windows. Stories that reflect the reality of living with a disability, and do so with warmth, humour and honesty, can reassure young readers that their lives are valuable and full of potential. Between the ages of 5 and 7, for example, is a particularly pivotal time. Children are forming their identity and self-worth, developing emotional intelligence and social awareness, and learning how to treat others with empathy and understanding. Inclusive stories reflect human diversity, promote respect, and celebrate what makes each of us unique. In fact, reading about characters who use wheelchairs, are visually impaired or experience the world in varied ways helps us all build empathy and insight.
Reimagining inclusion in storytelling
The idea of what makes a story ‘inclusive’ is often reduced to a checklist. However, inclusion isn’t just about ticking boxes; it’s a mindset. It’s about who gets to take up space, be themselves, and be heard. For example, real inclusion isn’t about making disabled characters prove themselves. It’s about letting them exist fully, freely, and be accepted for who they are. It’s also worthwhile to explore with children that not every moment of exclusion stems from malice. A peer may seem distant, not out of unkindness, but because they’re anxious, overwhelmed, or absorbed in something else. These kinds of misunderstandings are part of childhood, and inclusive stories can help children make sense of them, showing that being left out doesn’t always mean they’ve done something wrong or that they don’t belong.
Truly inclusive stories don’t always come with a lesson. Sometimes they’re soft and subtle. Sometimes they’re joyful or quietly rebellious. Inclusion can also be powerful in its simplicity. A character who just is, without needing to explain or justify their existence, can shift how a child sees themselves or others. Often, it’s these quiet stories that resonate most deeply, especially when they reflect the lived experience of disabled authors. Every page of an inclusive book is an invitation to feel seen and included. When a child finds themselves in a story and realises they don’t need to earn their place by being extraordinary, the landscape changes for all of us.