Person-first and identity-first language: Is there a right answer?

I was on Facebook the other day when I came across an infographic shared by an acquaintance of mine. It purported to list the correct language to use when referring to people with various kinds of disabilities: “person with a disability” instead of “disabled person,” “person with autism” instead of “autistic person,” and so on. If you clicked on the picture, though, you would see that some of the top comments were informing the makers of the infographic that many disabled people actually prefer the opposite. So what’s behind this divide? And what’s “right”?

This is the person-first versus identity-first language debate, and unfortunately, it’s not a simple issue to unravel.

What are person-first and identity-first language?

Person-first language (PFL) refers to the movement to use words that emphasize the personhood of the disabled person. The “person” word literally comes first, as in “person with a disability,” “boy with diabetes,” or “woman with autism.” PFL was developed by disability activists and gained traction in the 1990s, and it has since been the subject of many campaigns and professional recommendations for language use.

Identity-first language (IFL) refers to language that uses these words as grammatical adjectives, putting the identity adjective first. Thus, it would be “disabled person,” “diabetic boy,” or “autistic woman.” The movement for IFL has been about embracing these words as identities for members of the disability community, similar to the power in being able to identify as gay or black.

The rationale

Proponents of person-first language claim that it humanizes people and prevents discrimination by dissociating the person from the stigmatized disability. Studies have found that people hold more negative feelings about others described using IFL instead of PFL.

For example, researchers at The Ohio State University found that describing a group as “the mentally ill” was perceived more negatively than “people with mental illness.” PFL is touted for emphasizing the person as someone who just happens to have a disability, indicating they are separable and that the disability is not the defining feature of the person.

Proponents of identity-first language say that separating the person from the disability is sometimes impossible and that using PFL only furthers the idea that disability words are dirty words. Disability scholars argue that PFL’s limited usage may just increase stigma by clearly marking disabled people as “different,” since PFL isn’t used in the same situations for non-disabled people or for less stigmatized disabilities.

For example, a researcher at the University of Wisconsin-Madison found that PFL was used predominantly for those with highly stigmatized intellectual disabilities, while IFL was still mostly used for physical disabilities and, of course, for those without disabilities.

So what’s right?

I find it interesting that studies used to support PFL all look at comparisons like “people with epilepsy” versus “epileptics.” That’s not really person-first compared to identity-first, that’s person-first compared to person-less. Would a study comparing “people with epilepsy” to “epileptic people” find the same results? Is the key here including the person in the term (radical, I know), not the order it’s included? I couldn’t find a study that looked at this, but it might be telling.

Really, though, respect is the most important piece to this puzzle. Many disabled people are frustrated that their voices aren’t being listened to. Some prominent organizations run by non-disabled people continue to push for PFL despite disabled people, the communities they purport to serve, asking for IFL. It’s a problem when disabled people are being corrected by non-disabled people in the language they use to refer to themselves.

My own additions to the debate

Personally, I think that if the idea is that disability is viewed negatively, and we don’t want the disabled person to be viewed negatively with the disability, we need to change how we think about disability, not police the finer points of language. We need to address the source of the stigma, not accommodate it with workarounds. PFL just hides it behind grammar and makes it easier for non-disabled people to ignore.

Additionally, “person with a disability” separates the person from the disability by making them two separate entities, so that the person can be taken without the disability. For people for whom their disability is part of who they are and how they experience the world, how is that possible? Implying that we should separate them implies that a disabled person isn’t good enough while they have their disability. It implies that the disability is a lesser part of the person and that they’d be better without it, which often isn’t possible, may not be wanted, and is just generally untrue. Even if studies were to show that PFL is viewed more positively (which current studies don’t convince me of), the rhetoric used to support PFL at this point is harmful to disabled people and their identities.

PFL makes disability into an illegitimate identity, and I spent long enough feeling that way on my own without others trying to push it on me. No one debates whether it’s “Black person” or “person with black skin,” “Muslim person” or “person with Islamic religion,” “gay person” or “person with attraction to the same gender.” Those all sound ridiculous, cringe-worthy, and even possibly offensive, and they don’t sound much like identities when the constructions get mangled. “Disabled” is an identity like the rest of these, which non-disabled people don’t understand when they force PFL.

Listening is key

While there isn’t one correct answer, many members of the disability community prefer and freely use identity-first language as a sign of a powerful identity and community. What’s really most important, though, is using the language that the disabled person prefers, whether that’s person-first or identity-first. Arguing with or correcting someone’s usage, especially if you’re not disabled, is disrespectful and ableist, no matter how well-intentioned.

At the end of the day, I love what IFL stands for. Reclaiming “disabled” and similar words as badges of identity? Fighting the stigma of being disabled? Affirming the worth of disabled people? Heck yeah!

In practice, though, I find myself using both in conversation and casual writing, although I default to IFL. It’s silly that I have to police my use of what my brain considers synonyms because we’ve turned them into signs of two different teams (when neither is inherently negative or offensive). This isn’t a competition. This should be a unified effort for the good of all disabled people.

So in conclusion, listen to disabled people.

It’s that simple.

-Bri

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