A national phenomenon with mixed feelings
I am not what you would call a Strictly superfan. I might watch occasionally, but I do struggle with many elements of the show. I often choose to catch up afterwards and usually focus just on the dancing, missing out the competition or the inspirational story parts, as these are the problematic bits for me. Like many people, I see Strictly as more than just Saturday night entertainment, it is a national phenomenon and its headlines reach far beyond the dancefloor.
With the launch show airing tonight, 20th September, it felt like the right moment to share this blog. Here I explore Strictly as popular culture through one of my favourite occupational therapy models, the Model of Occupational Justice.
What we mean by occupation
When I use the word occupation, I do not mean just work or employment. In occupational therapy, occupation describes all the everyday activities that people want, need or are expected to do. This can be anything from personal care, to socialising, to creative expression, to something as public as performing on a national television stage. Occupation is about how we live our lives and how we find meaning through what we do.
The moment that made headlines
In 2021, one of those headlines stopped me in my tracks. Rose Ayling-Ellis, the first deaf contestant on Strictly Come Dancing, and her partner Giovanni Pernice performed a couple’s choice routine that, for a few seconds, was danced in complete silence. It was a powerful, political and deeply moving performance, showing the world how Rose experiences dance.
At the time, the reaction was huge. The dance made front pages, won awards, and was celebrated as one of the most memorable moments in the show’s history. Rose and Giovanni were praised for being “inspirational,” for proving that a deaf person could dance “just as well” as anyone else.
And yet, even at the time, I felt uneasy.
Inspiration or ableism?
The dance itself was not ableist, in fact it was radical. But the way it was framed, both on the show and in the press, was. Rose’s artistry, creativity and identity as a dancer were overshadowed by a narrative that placed her deafness at the centre of the story. The headlines did not say, look at this expressive dance. They said, look at what she achieved despite being deaf.
This is what disability activist Stella Young called “inspiration porn”, when disabled people are framed as inspiring simply for living their lives or doing ordinary things. In Rose’s case, the problem was not her dancing, it was society’s narrow assumption that dance is only about sound.
Introducing occupational justice
As an occupational therapist, I cannot help but see this through the lens of occupational justice.
The term “occupational justice” was developed by Elizabeth Townsend and Ann Wilcock in the late 1990s and early 2000s, growing out of the occupational science movement. Their idea was simple but powerful, that justice is not only about laws, resources or equality, but also about whether people are able to take part in the occupations that give their lives meaning. They argued that people are occupational beings, and when society restricts or undervalues participation, injustice is created (Townsend & Wilcock, 2004).
In their work, Townsend and Wilcock described how structural factors such as poverty, stigma, discrimination and exclusion limit people’s opportunities for occupation. They did not use the word ableism at that time, but now we might name those processes as ableism when they specifically relate to disability and the assumptions that exclude people from full participation.
From this foundation, the World Federation of Occupational Therapists later articulated the idea of occupational rights (WFOT, 2019). These rights include the right to experience meaning and enrichment through participation, the right to develop through occupation, the right to belong and contribute through occupation, and the right to freely choose occupations.
When these rights are denied or restricted, injustices arise. Wilcock and Townsend (2000) outlined several categories: occupational deprivation, when external factors prevent people from engaging in desired occupations, occupational marginalisation, when people’s choices are limited by structures or stereotypes, occupational imbalance, when opportunities for participation are unequally distributed, and occupational alienation, when people are engaged in occupations that feel meaningless or imposed. We might also recognise that alienation can occur when people are prevented from engaging in the meaning of their occupation on their own terms, because others impose their interpretation.
This framework reminds us that occupation is never neutral, it is shaped by cultural values, power and narratives. Looking at Strictly through this lens helps explain why Rose’s moment felt so complex. On the surface, she was claiming her occupational rights by taking part in dance at the highest level of mainstream British culture. But at the same time, the media framing narrowed her identity into a stereotype, an example of occupational marginalisation. And when her performance was taken and turned into an “inspiration” story for non-disabled audiences, it reflected occupational alienation, where the true meaning of her occupation was replaced by a narrative imposed from outside.
Rose through an occupational justice lens
Rose’s Strictly journey shows both sides of this. On one hand it was an example of occupational justice in action. Rose claimed her right to dance, to express herself through movement and partnership, and to challenge assumptions about who belongs on the ballroom floor. Yet at the same time it was also an example of occupational marginalisation. The way her story was framed narrowed her identity, she was not just a dancer, but the deaf dancer, and her artistry was viewed through a restrictive lens. It was also an example of occupational alienation, because the meaning of her performance was sometimes taken out of her hands, turned into a feel-good story for non-disabled audiences rather than being centred on her own lived experience.
That is why the celebration, which felt empowering for many, was uncomfortable for me at the time. It showed how ableism can creep into even the most joyful of cultural moments.
A history of disabled contestants on Strictly
Strictly Come Dancing has, over the years, welcomed several disabled contestants. Jonnie Peacock took to the floor in 2017, followed by Lauren Steadman in 2018 and Will Bayley in 2019. In 2020 JJ Chalmers reached the quarter-final, Ellie Simmonds competed in 2022, Chris McCausland lifted the trophy in 2024, and this year Ellie Goldstein becomes the first contestant with Down syndrome.
Looking back across this history, there has been a subtle but important shift. Early media coverage often leaned heavily on “inspirational” narratives, presenting disabled contestants through the lens of what they had “overcome.” More recently, we have seen glimpses of something different: the whole person being recognised, with artistry, humour and personality valued alongside disability. This may reflect a gradual change in public understanding of disability, though the shift is fragile.
There is also a risk in how these portrayals land. Celebrating disabled people on a glittering stage can inspire, but it can also create unfair comparisons. Everyday struggles, the extra work disabled people must do to challenge barriers, and the complexity of disabled lives may be overlooked when attention focuses only on high-profile success stories. Representation matters, but it must not erase reality. This is something I hope to explore further in future blogs.
Progress and hope for the future
Since Rose’s time, we have seen other disabled contestants take part in Strictly. Chris McCausland’s portrayal as a blind comedian and dancer in 2024 was, in some ways, a little better. The focus was more on his personality and partnership, and less on overcoming, but there is still a long way to go.
As this year’s series begins, I will be watching with cautious hope. Hope that Strictly can continue to showcase disabled dancers not as inspirational symbols, but as full artists, partners, and competitors. True occupational justice means celebrating dance itself, in all the diverse ways it can be experienced and expressed.
Because after all, everyone has the right to take to the dancefloor, glitter and all.
Learning for practice
For occupational therapists, there is a message here too. The same inspiration narratives that creep into Strictly can also creep into practice when we describe people in terms of what they overcome rather than who they are. Our role is to notice those moments, to challenge ableism, and to ensure the people we work with are recognised not as symbols of inspiration, but as equal participants with the same right to meaningful occupation as anyone else.
A note on ableism
In this blog I have used the term ableism. Fiona Kumari Campbell, who has written extensively on the subject, describes ableism as “a network of beliefs, processes and practices that produce a particular kind of self and body that is projected as the perfect, species-typical and therefore essential and fully human. Disability then is cast as a diminished state of being human” (Campbell, 2009). In other words, ableism shapes the way society values certain bodies and minds over others, and this creates the discriminatory narratives and barriers that disabled people face.
References
- Campbell, F.K. (2009). Contours of Ableism: The Production of Disability and Abledness. Palgrave Macmillan.
- Townsend, E. & Wilcock, A.A. (2004). Occupational justice and client-centred practice: A dialogue in progress. Canadian Journal of Occupational Therapy, 71(2), 75–87.
- Wilcock, A.A. & Townsend, E. (2000). Occupational terminology interactive dialogue. Journal of Occupational Science, 7(2), 84–86.
- World Federation of Occupational Therapists (WFOT). (2019). Position Statement: Occupational Rights. WFOT.
Leave a Reply