Discrimination against the disabled in Nepal isn’t always loud and cruel. Sometimes, it’s disguised as kindness. In Nepal, perceptions of disabled individuals frequently oscillate between two extremes: pity on the one hand and hostility on the other. Although these two positions give opposite superficial impressions, they share the same fundamental assumption that disabled persons are less competent, less self-sufficient, and less worthy of the same opportunities as everyone else.
Pity is the “nicer” face of the problem. Worse, pity justifies inaction as well as dependence. It frames PWDs (persons with disabilities) as fragile, helpless, and in need of constant charity. Society tends to glorify physical health and strength, a standard reinforced by movies, television, and other mass media. Within this framework, disabled individuals are often portrayed as unable to compete with the so-called ‘normal’ and are instead met with pity or prejudice. People speak on their behalf, make decisions for them, and celebrate “helping” as a personal virtue. The focus shifts to small, one-time individual acts, like giving a ride or carrying someone upstairs, instead of questioning why we don’t make those stairs accessible so that these people can use them on their own. This normalizes dependence and makes PWDs invisible in decision-making processes.
In Nepal, this shows up in many ways: parents hide their disabled children out of shame as well as fear of society, while friends often pity them and give help without being asked, ignoring their independence. Many disabled people are seen begging on the streets, which reinforces the idea that they are inherently helpless. Others are exploited by groups who sell the stories of their struggles to collect donations and make profits, taking away their dignity. They are denied roles in society because people assume they are incapable of doing so without ever asking them what they can or cannot do.
Source: Using public transport an ordeal for disabled people – myRepublica – The New York Times Partner, Latest news of Nepal in English, Latest News Articles | Republica (December 2018)
Image Source: For those living with disabilities, navigating Kathmandu is nightmare
On the other extreme is abuse, outright discrimination, ignorance, and exclusion. Here, PWDs are seen as burdens: “too weak” to fight for their rights, “too unlucky” to suffer miserably, “too lazy” to earn a living, “too much trouble” to hire, “too slow” to include in group activities, “too unfit” to engage in social activities, and “too costly” to accommodate. In public, they are rejected, mocked, or told they don’t belong.
If you’re blind, shopping becomes a gamble. You can’t always see how much money you’re handing over, and most shopkeepers? They just pocket the extra and stay quiet. Universities often avoid admitting disabled students because they don’t want to deal with the financial and logistical burden of making their spaces accessible. The universities are unfriendly, hostile, and adverse to the disabled students. (Budhathoki, 2023) Public vehicles are either inaccessible or do not stop for disabled people, as accommodating them might be a nuisance and PWDs might not be able to pay their fares. Society expects disabled people to stay hidden at home and survive off handouts. They are frequently excluded from decision-making discussions because their demands are gauged as unnecessary or unworthy of consideration.
Pity and prejudice work together to maintain ableism (discrimination and social prejudice against physically or mentally disabled people). Pity creates a public image of PWDs as perpetual dependents, which then gives prejudice a convenient excuse to exclude them: “Why invest in accessibility if they won’t use it?” Prejudice, in turn, keeps PWDs out of workplaces, schools, and public life, so their absence reinforces pity’s illusion: “See, they don’t come here anyway.” Physical barriers and stigma reinforce each other, trapping persons with disabilities (PWDs) in cycles of exclusion.
This cycle is especially damaging in Nepal, where accessible infrastructure is rare and cultural narratives often link disability to an unfixable medical condition or a tragic karmic fate. (Aryal, R. P., & Aryal, B. (2022) If a place is inaccessible, disabled people naturally won’t go there, but instead of fixing the problem, society takes it as proof that accessibility isn’t needed. Both extremes allow the lack of accessibility to go unchallenged.
Real inclusion can’t happen when attitudes swing between overprotective “help” and open exclusion. Both come from the same wrong idea: that disabled people are outsiders who must adjust to an inaccessible world, instead of the world evolving to include them. Until Nepal sees pity and mistreatment as two sides of the same coin, accessibility will stay stuck as a charity project, not a basic human right just like everyone else’s.
About the Author: I’m a Master of Planning Studies student at Dalhousie University, currently working with the PEACH research unit to explore stigma around disability, inclusive planning, and accessible design, especially in resource-constrained settings like Nepal. I’m particularly passionate about understanding how ableism operates in everyday lives.