The Right to Touch: Disability, Sexuality, and Human Dignity

The image is a powerful, monochromatic photograph depicting a person in a wheelchair, illuminated by a dramatic, focused beam of light from above. The rest of the scene is engulfed in deep shadows, creating a stark contrast that highlights the subject's profile and the contours of the wheelchair. The light creates an ethereal, almost celestial atmosphere, suggesting themes of solitude, contemplation, or introspection. The person's expression is calm, facing slightly upward towards the light, adding to the poignant and reflective mood of the photograph.
In 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 rare opportunity for intimate connection in a world that often treats disabled bodies as public property in every way except when it comes to pleasure.

Consider the daily reality for many individuals with high support needs. Our bodies are routinely touched, positioned, and cared for by others. We're showered, dressed, and assisted with the most personal of tasks. Yet this same system that claims to support our needs draws the line at supporting our sexuality. It's a stark contradiction that speaks volumes about how our society views disability and desire.

The impact of this denial extends far beyond the physical. For many people with disability, especially those who've experienced trauma or abuse, working with a sex worker in a safe, controlled environment can be profoundly healing. It's a way to reclaim agency over one's body, to experience touch without fear, to rediscover pleasure after pain.

Take the case of William, an NDIS participant who uses funding to see sex workers. As he poignantly expressed, "People just don't have a concept that people with a disability can have the same needs and wants and desires and aspirations as them. They don't see for many people with a disability this is the only form of contact they get."

Or consider the woman who fought for years to have her right to access sex work services funded through her NDIS plan. She won her Administrative Appeals Tribunal case, and in 2020, the Federal Court of Australia unanimously upheld her right. This landmark decision set a precedent for recognising the importance of sexual expression as part of a full life for people with disability, which will now be overturned if the NDIS Amendment Bill and the narrow shopping lists of supports they propose that we will be 'allowed' to use are approved. 

The benefits of access to sex work services extend beyond the individual. For couples where one or both partners have a disability, professional assistance can be critical when maintaining intimacy. Sex workers with experience in disability can offer practical advice, positioning assistance, and the kind of non-judgmental support that can help keep relationships strong.

It's important to understand that this isn't just about the act of sex itself. For many people with disability, especially those with limited opportunities for social interaction, sex workers provide one of the few chances for genuine intimacy and human connection. It's about being seen as a whole person, not just a collection of symptoms or support needs.

The argument for funding sex work services isn't just about individual rights – it's about public health and safety. When we deny access to professional, regulated services, we push people towards riskier alternatives. This is an area that the general public do not really understand - not the range of therapeutic services, education and counselling available, nor why sex services are utilised by disabled people. 

Access to sex work services can play a crucial role in sex education for people with disability. Many have been systematically denied access to comprehensive sexuality education, leaving them vulnerable to abuse and exploitation. Sex workers can provide valuable, practical education about consent, boundaries, and safe practices in a judgment-free environment.

We must also consider the practical realities. For a quadriplegic man wanting to start a family, a sex worker's assistance with sperm collection might be the only viable option. Religious or conservative care providers are unlikely to assist with such a deeply personal task. Sex workers, on the other hand, have the skills and professionalism to handle these situations with dignity and respect.

There are even specialised organisations set up to provide sexual services to disabled people. Organisations like SECCA and Touching Base play essential roles in this space. SECCA offers specialist counselling and education on sexuality and relationships for people of all abilities, while Touching Base, operating since 2000, bridges the gap between the disability sector and sex workers. They maintain a referral list of disability-friendly sex workers, provide training for both disability support workers and sex workers, and advocate for the sexual rights of people with disability. 

Both organisations emphasise the need for comprehensive sexuality support within disability services, recognising that sexual expression is a fundamental aspect of human dignity and wellbeing, not a luxury.

The UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, ratified by Australia in 2008, states that governments have an obligation to ensure that people with disability can "enjoy rich and fulfilling lives equal to others in society." This must include sexual expression. To deny this is to deny a fundamental aspect of the human experience.

As we push for change, we must centre the voices of people with disability themselves. Their experiences, their needs, their desires – these should be guiding our policies, not outdated notions of propriety or misguided paternalism.

The right to sexual expression is a human right. For many people with disability, access to sex work services is the key to unlocking that right. It's time we stopped treating disability sexuality as taboo and started treating it as what it is: a fundamental aspect of the human experience, deserving of respect, support, and yes, funding.

To deny this is to deny people with disability their full humanity. It's to say that their bodies, their pleasure, their intimate experiences are somehow less valuable, less worthy of support than those of non-disabled people. That's a form of discrimination we cannot allow to stand.

This is not a fringe issue. It's a fundamental human rights issue that affects millions of Australians. It's time for our policies to catch up with the lived realities of people with disability. It's time to recognise that sexual expression is not a luxury, but a basic human need and right.

The path forward is clear. We must fund comprehensive sexuality support services, including counselling, education and access to sex workers, as part of NDIS disability support packages. We must provide comprehensive, accessible sexuality education for people with disability. And we must work tirelessly to dismantle the societal stigma that surrounds disability and sexuality - as well as the notion that it is okay for politicians to weaponise our private lives in order to generate outrage and win votes. 

This is a fight for equality, for dignity, for the recognition of our full humanity. It's a fight we cannot afford to lose. Because in the end, this is about more than sex – it's about the right to live a full, rich life, the right to experience the entire spectrum of human emotion and sensation. It's about the right to be fully, unequivocally human.


  1. Links:
    Touching Base:

  2. DPO Australia Joint Position Statement:

  3. People with Disability Australia (PWDA) Landmark Decision:

  4. ABC News Article on NDIS Participant Sex Work Ban:

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Broken Window In A Kalgoorlie Courthouse

Why We Must Not Go Gently Into The Night

The Apartheid of Mainstream Feminism (or when is a woman not a woman?)