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The National Disability Insurance Scheme was meant to be revolutionary, liberating people with disability from rigid systems that treated us as problems rather than human beings with rights. It promised individualised support and the chance to live on equal footing with other Australians. But the draft lists of "approved" and "not approved" supports represent a betrayal of these principles, regressing to a cookie-cutter approach that ignores our diverse needs. These lists aren't mere administrative tweaks. They fundamentally reimagine the NDIS, stripping away individual choice in favour of a top-down model that has failed us for generations. The NDIS was built on the notion that we are experts in our own lives. These lists discard that wisdom, allowing faceless bureaucrats to dictate "appropriate" supports based on crude categories. The potential consequences are dire. For ventilator-dependent individuals, while some respiratory supports remain, the

I n the quiet corners of our society, a profound injustice simmers. It's not one that usually makes headlines, except when it's wielded as shock clickbait to justify cuts to vital support services like the NDIS.  I'm talking about the systematic denial of sexual expression and intimacy for people with disability. The recent move to ban sex work funding under Australia's National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS) throws this issue into sharp relief. The discussion - citing the 'pub test', no less, to justify why we shouldn't have the same rights as others - reveals a deep misunderstanding of disability, sexuality, and human rights. More than that, it's a decision that actively harms some of our most marginalised citizens. Let's be clear: this isn't about special treatment. This is about equal access to a fundamental human experience. For many people with disability, professional sex work services are not a luxury – they're a lifeline, a rar