When we talk about disability, many people default to one idea: charity. Helping. Giving. Doing good. But the Charitable Model of Disability is far more complicated than simple kindness. It grew out of centuries of moral judgment, industrial pressures, and religious duty—and it still shapes how disabled people are treated today. Understanding this model is essential if we want to build a world where disabled people have agency, not just pity. This is part of my series about the Five Disability Models that impact our biases about our imperfect bodies. I’m sharing concepts I learned during my pursuit of my ASL-English Interpreting degree (BS) and my masters in Public Administration. (Pursued in tandem with my writing journey of the past fifteen years.) The Moral Model was explored earlier, here.
Charity versus the Charitable Model of Disability
All of the major religious faith traditions practice some form of Charity.
- Christianity – Jesus taught in the New Testament that disciples should show kindness and alleviate suffering. Examples were illustrated in the parable of the Good Samaritan, the feeding of the five thousand, and Jesus’ healing of the sick and disabled.
- Judaism – The core teaching of Tzedekah is often translated as charity. A better translation might be ‘justice’ or ‘righteousness.’
- Islam – One of the Five Pillars is Zakat or giving a fixed percentage of one’s wealth to those in need. In addition, Sadaqah is voluntary charity that alleviates suffering and kindnesses which strengthens the community.
- Hinduism and Buddhism – Both have the concept of In Hindu beliefs, this is generosity given without expectation of return. It is the highest form of giving. In Buddhism, Dana is freely giving to monks and to the poor, weakening the vice of greed within the giver.
- Sikh – Honoring the practice of Langar. These are free communal meals offered to the hungry, shared in an expression of equality and service.
Acts of kindness and generosity are the best part of being human. Charity in this form is good, noble, and elevating. And though these acts are the basis of the Charitable Model of Disability, these are not the same.
The Charitable Model is both built on and a reaction to the Moral Model of Disability. For centuries, many cultures drew a straight line between disability and divine judgement. If you or a family member was disabled (or experienced, impairment, disfigurement, disease, etc.) then you must have deserved this – as a curse or a blessing. This is the Moral Model of Disability. The Charitable Model evolved from a mix of religious duty and the social pressures of the Industrial Revolution. This model separated the Fit from the Unfit, the Able-Bodied from the Infirm, and the Deserving Poor from the Undeserving. It wasn’t as harsh and punitive as the Moral Model, but the ‘benevolent’ marginalization still impacts how we talk about disability today.
The birth of the Charitable Model
The Charitable Model of Disability has some history before the 19th Century, but it grew rapidly as the stresses of the Industrial Revolution impacted communities throughout Western Civilization. As mills, gins, factories and mines sprang up, many people left agricultural work. They left villages that were remnants of the old feudal system for the lure of the city and the promise of cash wages.
In these towns and cities, the social structure was different, there was no long-standing community which knew your people for generations. A person’s worth was determined by what they could contribute. You earned your reputation through your hard work and how well you improved your status.
If you were injured or became sick (often caused by dangerous or unhealthy working conditions), there were five more laborers waiting to replace you. In this situation, becoming ill or disabled was a death sentence. If one didn’t die from complications or starvation, then you were considered a burden.
Factory owners and others industry investors needed workers who were Fit or Able-Bodied. These were expected to keep up with the pace of production set by the foreman. If you could not – whatever the reason – you were fired and replaced. People were part of the machine, just like cogs and pulleys and levers. If a part broke, it was replaced.
These “broken parts” began to accumulate in cities and towns. They loitered in the streets, they begged on the corners, they were sickly in their homes and needed tending by family members who needed to work themselves. What to do about this problem?
There was a high literacy rate among the middle and upper classes. They read both religious and philosophical texts. Writers of the day quoted passages about Charity and Christian Duty. Those unfortunate souls who had been injured or were disabled deserved pity. They were helpless victims in need of prayers and philanthropy.
The newly rich, who had climbed the ladder of success (perhaps at the expense of their morals) could ensure salvation for their souls by contributing to a local charitable group. The wives and daughters of these rich men could become Angels of Mercy by preparing baskets of food. Or they could become Lady Bountiful by raising funds through the Ladies Aid Society.
The impact of Victimhood
The Charitable Model of Disability is an improvement on the Moral Model. However, the Charitable Model only works if the disabled fall into specific categories.
- Tragic Victim
- Inspiring Overcomer
- Passive Recipient
Those who raised funds and wrote pamphlets would tell the story of a good, ordinary person (or an extraordinarily good person) who suffered a tragic accident or pitiable circumstances. They would either cast them as a victim who was helpless in the situation or a brave soul who met the challenge with a stalwart heart.
There were examples in literature of the day.
- Clara from Heidi — passive recipient
- Colin Craven (The Secret Garden) — “miracle cure” narrative
- Quasimodo (Hunchback of Notre Dame) — pity + moral judgment
- Helen Burns (Jane Eyre) — suffering as virtue
The “victim” must surrender their agency. They must become an object of pity. If they want assistance, they must play by the rules of the game. The benefactor gets to be the savior. The “victim” is dependent on their benefactor’s goodwill and has no say.
They also must be humble and sweet when accepting whatever is given. Insufficient gratitude was a cardinal sin and would get one labeled as an ingrate, thankless poor, improvident, or an ungrateful wretch.
If you had an invisible disability, or weren’t “disabled enough” and requested help, then you were considered idle, shiftless, or good-for-nothing.
The Charitable Model in today’s world
The Charitable Model is still alive and kicking – in our society, in our media, and in our government. In the United States, up until 1990, buildings, sidewalks, and communication devices were made for the able-bodied with a few exceptions. Since the Americans with Disabilities Act was passed, doorways and bathroom stalls must be wide enough for wheelchair access, sidewalks must have curb cuts for wheelchair access, tactile paving (those bumpy edges) has been installed along sidewalks, crosswalks, and train platforms for the visually impaired, closed captioning is required for television, text messaging is ubiquitous, and many more improvements have been introduced. Our society is moving closer to Universal Design (design in which everyone can have access) but we are not there.
“The poor, the sick, and the crippled must be cared for, but they must also be taught their place.”
— Common sentiment in 19th‑century Poor Law debates (paraphrased from parliamentary records)
Unfortunately, this sentiment is shared by a lot of lawmakers today. Government policies have been put in place to ensure that the “undeserving poor” don’t get any handouts. American government infrastructure has a strict testing policy to determine if someone is “disabled enough” to receive SSI (Supplemental Security Income). This tests incapacity instead of supporting autonomy.
If eligible, the recipient must remain below rigid income and asset limits. These policies also cut benefits of disabled persons if they decide to marry. SSI and other programs are labeled “public assistance” which frames it as generosity of the government or taxpayers. This positions disabled persons as passive recipients of benefits or aid, not active citizens.
Laws and policies are presented to governmental bodies every year to increase or improve accessibility of their citizens. Sometimes needed action isn’t taken. Often, the government (local, state, or federal) will shunt the burden/responsibility to non-profit organizations which are already meeting or positioned to meet those needs. This may seem harmless. However, this frames accessibility as optional or benevolent, not a right.
The Telethon and GoFundMe
Some of the best examples of the Charitable Model in media is the telethon of previous decades and the rise of GoFundMe more recently. No one is arguing about fundraising. Money is needed to tackle any complex problem. However, the way one solicits donations says a lot.
Telethons (or televised fundraising marathons) showed up in the 1950s as televisions became more common in middle-income households. These were a mixture of entertainment, celebrity appearances, and direct fundraising appeals. The United Cerebral Palsy telethon, hosted by Dennis James, set the format early on. It was the Muscular Dystrophy Association telethon, hosted by Jerry Lewis every Labor Day, that became the standard.
Telethons used similar ingredients to draw in donations:
- Sad music
- Tragic narratives
- Images of suffering children or “worthy” individuals
- Heart wrenching appeals to pity
- “Only you” can end this misfortune
These same techniques are used by “Save the Children,” “Make-a-Wish,” and St.Jude’s hospital. You’ll see it used in “inspiration port” videos on TikTok and other social media.
The MDA telethon used young and cute children with muscular dystrophy, as that year’s “poster child.” These children, called “Jerry’s Kids” joined the celebrities on stage and became the “face” of the disease. Former poster children for MDA have pushed back against how they were portrayed as helpless victims and burdens to their families. They tell how children who were ambulatory were placed in wheelchairs. Truthful narratives were stretched and exaggerated. Jerry Lewis once said,
“Pity is a benign form of hatred.”
He meant it as a defense of telethons. Disabled activists heard it as a confession. Over the decades, they sent cease and desist letters, engaged in lawsuits and protests, yet the MDA and Jerry Lewis continued the peddling pity in their telethon for over 50 years. Why? Because it worked.
In modern social media settings, individuals can start their own “telethon” for themselves or on behalf of another. GoFundMe and other fundraising apps are used to raise money for medical expenses, funeral costs, and home repair after natural disasters. These personal fundraisers use the same language and framing as the telethons and the benevolent societies of 150 years ago. Here’s a quote from a recent GoFundMe:
“They’ve never asked for anything. They’re the kindest people you’ll ever meet. Please help this deserving family.”
This is the Charitable Model in its purest modern form: worthiness → pity → moral purity → donation.
The same techniques which were used to wring the heart of a benevolent person in 1840 are used on TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook.
Second Verse – Same as the First?
The Charitable Model of Disability may have reached its Victorian hey‑day in the era of benevolent societies and sentimental novels, but it never truly disappeared. It simply changed costumes. The same narratives that once filled pamphlets and parlors now show up in telethons, viral videos, GoFundMe campaigns, and even government policy.
We still have stories about disabled characters that are well-meaning (I enjoyed all of these), but they carry this Victorian legacy.
- Wonder – Augie gets an award for…going to school and being inspiring?
- Forrest Gump – Forrest’s improbable successes reinforce the idea that disabled people must be extraordinary to be valued.
- Me Before You – Louisa is a “savior” figure and the hopefulness of the story collapses when Will decides it is better to be dead than to be a burden.
- The Fault in Our Stars – Hazel and Gus’s terminal illnesses evoke pity and pathos. Their snark and sarcasm show they are “inspiring overcomers” and worthy of our attention.
In the 19th century, disabled people were framed as tragic victims deserving pity, inspiring overcomers who proved their moral worth, or passive recipients who accepted whatever help was offered with saintly gratitude. Those roles were shaped by industrial pressures, religious duty, and a rigid belief in the “deserving” versus “undeserving” poor. Those roles were reinforced again and again in literature until they became cultural defaults.
We still see disabled people cast as objects of pity in fundraising videos. We still see “inspiration porn” go viral when a disabled person does something ordinary. We still see policies that treat disabled adults as dependents rather than citizens. We still see accessibility framed as generosity instead of a right. And we still see the same three roles — tragic, inspiring, passive — shaping who is considered “worthy” of help.
The Charitable Model is not evil. It grew out of genuine compassion. But it also grew out of systems that needed disabled people to stay small, grateful, and dependent. And when those expectations linger — in our media, our institutions, our interactions — they limit disabled people’s agency, autonomy, and humanity.
Understanding the Charitable Model doesn’t mean rejecting charity or kindness. It means recognizing when “charity” becomes a story that centers the giver instead of the person receiving help. It means noticing when pity replaces respect. It means questioning why disabled people are still expected to perform gratitude for basic access.
We can move toward models that recognize disabled people as full participants in society — not symbols, not lessons, not burdens, not miracles. Just people. With rights, needs, talents, and stories that don’t require pity to be worth telling.
The Victorian era may have given the Charitable Model its shape, but we’re the ones who decide whether it continues. And the more we understand the stories we’ve inherited, the more power we have to rewrite them.
I put together a few songs that push back against the Charitable Model and emphasize individuality and resilience. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do:
- This is Me – The Greatest Showman (A new classic.)
- Brave – Sara Bareilles (This was my personal theme song a few years back.)
- Follow Your Arrow – Kacey Musgraves (A recent discovery that I’m loving.)
- Rise Up – Andra Day (I had this on repeat two years ago and it made it to my Spotify top ten list.)
- Test Drive – How to Train Your Dragon (Healthy disability rep, and the music is the BEST!)