December 1, 2021 by Emily Rose Yates
Note: Sexual issues is a huge concern for many living with, or affected by MS, which is why I wanted to provide this article. Please do not read if you get easily offended by this topic.
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Emily Rose Yates is an accessibility consultant, journalist and pink hair enthusiast living in Glasgow, Scotland. Yates’ main passions are travel and people. She was the first wheelchair user to cross the Sinai Desert and wrote the opens in a new windowLonely Planet Accessible Rio de Janeiro guide ahead of the 2016 Games. Yates also managed opens in a new windowEnhance the U.K.’s Undressing Disability campaign for several years, championing the right for disabled people to have access to sexual expression.
A recent opens in a new windowBooking.com scroll for wedding accommodations resulted in a gasp and a giggle: I’d stumbled across the hotel I lost my virginity in.While my experience in that hotel had been predictably anti-climactic, the process that led to it felt monumental. I’m extremely confident in many ways, but I was terrified of having sex for the first time. Would it hurt? Would certain positions be impossible at worst and an embarrassing game of disabled Twister at best? And how many awkward conversations would I need to have to manage expectations and avoid any post-shag shame?All this inner chatter led to plenty of self-deprecation but, unsurprisingly, absolutely no sex. It wasn’t until I was about to wave goodbye to my teenage years that I knew it would happen soon with my then-boyfriend.With not a spot of inclusive sex education to refer back to or any disabled peers to gossip with about their personal escapades, I had to prepare for the inevitable in my own way. So, one Sunday afternoon — instead of our usual nail painting or chick flick — my sister, auntie and I practiced a list of positions in the guest bedroom and rated them on potential pain levels and the amount of flexibility required. We laughed until we cried about how ridiculous we looked, and everything just felt a little less hopeless. After all that effort, naturally, my first time ended up as a quick bit of missionary in a tired, budget hotel. But at least I was prepared!
From that moment on, I made an unspoken promise with myself to prioritize pleasure, whether that be a night of fun with someone else or enjoying a candlelit dinner for one. I’d be lying if I said my own internalized ableism hasn’t got in the way a few too many times, but I’m learning to be patient and trust the process.Working for the disability awareness charity opens in a new windowEnhance the U.K. has had a fundamental role in developing my disability pride and sexual confidence. The charity delivers training courses and undertakes accessibility audits all over the U.K. and further afield. It is also home to the Undressing Disability Campaign that supports disabled people in having safe and fulfilling romantic lives.A huge additional perk to working on the Undressing Disability Campaign was being introduced to the weird and undoubtedly wonderful world of sex toys. I’ve had the (literal) pleasure of trying a good number out over the years. Here are some of my adaptive, inclusive favorites, along with a few others I’m looking forward to enjoying once released.
Think Creatively
It’s not just sex toys that can positively aid our sex lives; if you’re a disabled person with a fair bit of mobility equipment at home, there are many ways to use it to your kinky advantage! How about using a bed rail that would usually support a transfer as the perfect attachment point for a pair of handcuffs?
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