“The awarded work can be of any genre in fiction, memoir, biography, poetry, or critical non-fiction from around the world – whether it is in English, in translation, traditionally published or self-published.” Publishers and disabled authors can find details about how to submit work for the prize here. Submissions are open now and end October 31st, 2020. While disabled authors will be given precedence over non-disabled writers, “[a]uthors – such as those in a carer’s capacity – who themselves are not ill may be considered for the prize if their work is truly exceptional as an articulation of life with illness.” The award has yet to clearly define disability. This is what their website says: “The Barbellion Prize is intended for people with chronic, life-long conditions – whether congenital, or acquired as adults. It’s never easy to define exactly who’s in, and who’s out. But there are already prizes for people with cancer or people with mental health conditions, and this prize is not intended to duplicate or overlap with those. Nor is it intended for those with disabilities that do not much affect their participation in society. Many, but not all of those eligible will live shortened lifespans, due to CF, MD, MS and other conditions.” It seems the creator has a very specific definition in mind, but I would discourage any gatekeeping of disability. I would encourage instead using the American with Disabilities Act definition, which states, “The ADA defines a person with a disability as a person who has a physical or mental impairment that substantially limits one or more major life activity.” Disabled people are too often asked to “prove” their disability, especially people with invisible disabilities. (Note: I have an invisible disability.) I’m also unclear about the meaning of this requirement: “What is important is not any particular moral or message in a given work but rather a genuine illustration of life with illness, disease, or disability.” While I hope the award clears up and simplifies some of its terminologies, I’m glad the award exists. Currently, the only major award given to works with disabled representation, that I know of, is the Schneider Family Book Award, which is given for children’s and young adult literature. The CDC estimates that 26% of adults in the United States have a disability. (These numbers seem to range wildly according to various organizations. This may, again, be an issue with how disability is defined.) While there is no metric measuring how many books with disability representation are published every year, I’m quite sure it’s nowhere near 26%. Every month, I roundup recent releases with disability representation for Think Inclusive, and it’s very difficult to find books with this very simple criteria. I’m glad this award exists to raise awareness of works by and about disabled writers. If you’re looking for more books with disability representation, check out these lists:
Read Harder: A Book With a Main Character or Protagonist With a Disability 6 Powerful Books By Disabled Authors 20 Must-Read YA Books with Disabled Characters The Alienating Lack of Disability Representation in Literature 2020 YA Book Covers Bring Disability Representation to the Forefront I Opened The Door: On Portals, Fantasy, And My Disability
