Hidden violence against women with disabilities

“I have been a journalist for over twenty years, and I am also a woman with a motor disability from birth. Thanks to my work and personal experience, over the years I have intertwined many topics, such as the sexuality of disabled people, motherhood, body diversity, and even gender-based violence.”

Trainer and traveler, as well as a journalist, Valeria Alpi works at the Centro Documentazione Handicap in Bologna, where she focuses on communication, inclusion, and sexuality. For the I libri di AccaParlante series by La Meridiana, last year she published the book La voce a te dovuta. Donne con disabilità e violenza di genere.

Valeria, how did the idea for this book come about?
Regarding gender-based violence, in the last ten years many initiatives have been carried out across Italy and numerous articles have been produced by researchers on the topic, but I felt it was all fragmented and accessible only to an audience already involved in disability issues. I felt the need to tell, in a single text, what has been done so far, what still needs to be done, and how to create pathways out of violence that are accessible to women with disabilities. I chose to write everything in the first person and in a narrative style to make a heavy topic more approachable and to reach different audiences, including people who have never known a disabled woman.

What numbers do we have on violence against women with disabilities?
Numbers are the biggest problem because there is still no comprehensive or unified statistic. Even the statistics from the national anti-violence hotline 1522 do not cross-reference disability data, so existing numbers are either outdated or come from surveys aimed at disabled women conducted by various Italian and European organizations. In any case, what emerges is that seven out of ten women with disabilities have experienced at least one episode of violence—more than double the average for non-disabled women, which is one in three.

Are there specific forms of violence that target women with disabilities?
Women with disabilities, like all women, can be victims of beatings, sexual assault, and femicide, but there are additional specific forms of violence. For example: intentionally administering medications incorrectly, taking away aids needed for communication or mobility, spending a disability pension not on the woman’s needs, treating her like a child, or always dressing her in a tracksuit. In many European countries, forced sterilization is still practiced for women with cognitive impairments.

Does ableism play a role in this?
Absolutely. Ableism—which basically means having built a world for people considered able-bodied—also leads to institutionalized forms of violence that often go unnoticed. For example, due to the inaccessibility of gynecological clinics and mammography machines, it is very difficult for a woman with a disability to take care of her sexual and reproductive health. This is a serious violation of the right to health guaranteed by our Constitution. Finally, in the case of women with disabilities, violence is sometimes perpetrated by other women, such as caregivers, mothers, or personal assistants.

Is there a specific issue for women with cognitive disabilities?
Women with cognitive disabilities face an additional problem: they are often not believed. We know this happens to all women victims of violence, even without disabilities, but with intellectual impairment the issue is amplified. As I recount in the book, even I, as a woman with a disability, did not immediately believe a woman with a cognitive impairment when she reported harassment, which later proved to be real.

What are the main obstacles to combating violence against disabled women?
Two unresolved issues remain. First, there is still a widespread belief that violence against women is determined by women’s actions, behaviors, or clothing. Therefore, people do not think that a woman with a disability could be subjected to this type of violence—violence linked to attraction, sexuality, or femininity. Second, in our culture, people with disabilities are often seen as having no gender—they are not men or women, just disabled. As a result, women with disabilities are excluded from everything related to their gender, including violence. I once met a woman with a disability who was missing a front tooth: she had fallen from her wheelchair and could not go to the dentist alone, but her caregiver did not want to pay for it, deeming it unnecessary. As a disabled person, she was considered unattractive and no one would want her anyway. In my own life, I have traveled extensively alone—I even wrote a book about it—and once, during a presentation, a woman told me that, as a beautiful woman, she could not travel alone due to the risk of assaults, while she thought I had no such problem. In other words, to her I was not a woman like any other. You are never “enough” of a woman.

Are anti-violence centers accessible?
Many anti-violence centers have inaccessible shelters or even entry points reachable only by stairs. Communication and information are often inaccessible as well, because terms related to violence, reporting, and legal procedures are very complex and difficult for many women to understand. According to the latest Istat report on gender-based violence, in Italy 94% of shelters have exclusion criteria—for example, they do not accept women with psychiatric disabilities, which are increasing. Fortunately, in the past ten years, I have also seen many improvements. There is now a growing willingness to reach women with disabilities and to develop good practices, sometimes through trial and error or by collaborating with disability-focused associations.

What motivated you to tell your story in the first person?
It felt natural to start from my personal experience because I myself had difficulty recognizing that I had suffered a form of disability-related violence. I wanted to bring my own experience into play, both as a disabled woman and as a professional, to show the public that this is still an area we navigate cautiously, that we need training, discussion, and networking—and that somewhere, we have to start.