Afterto graduatesecondary school, Jacqueline Child – like so many other busy twenty-somethings looking for a partner or a date – dove into the tumultuous world of dating apps. In 2019, a few weeks after she started actively trying to meet someone, she matched with a man on Bumble. When they decided to meet in person, he suggested they take a walk. Jacqueline responded by telling him that she was recovering from surgery, so a picnic would be better.
When he inquired about the surgery, Jacqueline told him she had a connective tissue disorder. Then he replied, “Well… I hope you’re not planning on having children because that would be really selfish. That’s how genetics works.”
This was just one of dozens of offensive messages Colorado native Jacqueline had to digest as she navigated the toxic world of dating culture as a woman with a disability or chronic illness. And that particular message isn’t that unusual; as a young stroke survivor, i’ve even heard this from strangers online before.
People with disabilities trying to enter their online dating age have to deal with a lot more than just the ignorant comments. There are concerns about personal safety (especially for the physically challenged) and the difficulty of navigating online dating platforms. And there’s so much more pressure involved in what most people consider the fun of it: meeting in person and hoping the online flirtation translates to real life.
I don’t know anyone, disabled or not, who really likes dating apps. For most of us, they are just a means to an end. Having to market yourself online with a perfectly crafted profile, deal with frequent rejections, and invest hours interacting with strangers you may never meet – it’s exhausting.
Those of us who are disabled or have chronic illness also have to deal with the anxiety that comes with not knowing how a match will react. How do I tell them? When do I tell them? Will they immediately ghost or reject me? The fear surrounding disability disclosure can itself be paralyzing.
After being called a “burden” one too many times, Jacqueline began to feel like she might not be worthy of a romantic relationship. One day in 2021, she told her older sister Alexa that she wished there was a legit and free dating app specially designed for the disabled and chronically ill. Alexa, who had watched Jacqueline struggle with hurtful comments for years, responded, “Let’s make it ourselves.”
Dateability, an app created by sisters Jacqueline and Alexa Child, wants to be ‘an inclusive place for people with disabilities where people feel safe and feel like they matter’.
In October 2022, the sisters launched a free app called Dateability in North America. By the end of 2023, they will have 11,000 members, ranging from wheelchair users to those with weakened immune systems to even non-disabled allies.
“We want to be an inclusive place where people feel safe and feel like they matter,” says Jacqueline.
The decision to welcome non-disabled allies on their app came to an end because we don’t want to convey the important and underestimated message that people with disabilities should only date other people with disabilities. “[Disabled people] are free to love who they want and they deserve it,” said Alexa. “But this is a good way to filter out people who discriminate against people with disabilities.”
Personally, I fully support the sisters’ decision to include people without disabilities on this platform, because I am very open to a partner who can do the things that I cannot physically do. Still, I’ve always been wary of dating apps, because I’m a hopeless romantic with a nostalgic penchant for fun encounters and chance encounters. I have no idea what I’m looking for, or, to put it plainly, if anyone is looking for someone like me.
Still, I had to check out this app, in the interest of good journalism.
So I recently downloaded the app, created a profile, added a few photos and started swiping away. The app lacked the sleek, sleek aesthetic of some of the mainstream apps, but it was quite user-friendly, efficient, and accessible on more devices than just my cell phone. However, as I was swiping, I saw a few of the same faces pop up again.
Because Dateability is relatively new and targets 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 I wasn’t surprised by this: the stigma against disability in immigrant communities (and other communities of color) is such a deterrent to talking about disability publicly.
But there was one seemingly innocuous element that made this app a real game changer. While filling out the routine questions about age, height, and location, I came across a question titled: “Dateability Deets.” I was then presented with a fairly extensive list of options to broadly describe my disability, chronic illness, or lack thereof.
There was actually a box with a precise description that I could select: ambulant wheelchair user. The phrase appeared at the bottom of my profile, along with all my other personal information. It was so liberating, knowing that whoever I matched with will already know about this part of my identity – just like my stated political beliefs or religion – and will be okay with it.
“The ‘Dateability Deets’ question eliminates the need for an awkward disclosure discussion,” Alexa said.
By no longer making a disability or chronic illness something that needs to be disclosed, it removes some of the stigma associated with it. In this space, our disabilities become a marker of identity rather than 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 valuable, but the people outside our community will also see us that way,” Jacqueline said.
In 2024, Jacqueline and Alexa plan to work on design and technical aspects that will hopefully increase the app’s accessibility in North America and other parts of the world. As datability grows, I hope it continues to be even more inclusive, which may require some thoughtful outreach to people of color with disabilities.
If we have every type of person on this app, we can ensure that as a community we don’t willfully sequester ourselves on the margins of society (the non-disabled world does that enough for us anyway). Many of us want to be here, but only in a dating world with more empathy, acceptance and accessibility.