You don’t look disabled – but I am

“You don’t look disabled.”  I hear it often—from strangers, colleagues, even interviewers. They think it’s a compliment. It isn’t. It’s a dismissal of everything I quietly live with every single day. Like many people with invisible or fluctuating conditions, I’ve spent years learning how to “pass” as non-disabled. Why? Because I’ve learned the hard way that disclosure can cost you your career. 

I live with Multiple Sclerosis and another rare health condition. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve applied for jobs, declared my disability as encouraged—and then received an instant rejection. Yet when I’ve applied for the exact same types of jobs without disclosing my condition, I’ve been shortlisted. I’ve been offered the job. That pattern has played out again and again over the years.

Just when I think things are improving, I get the same message: if they know, I don’t get through.

I’ve turned up to interviews using a walking stick, only to be met with raised eyebrows and questions like, “What’s with the stick?” or “Have you hurt your leg?” The assumptions come thick and fast. When I’ve arrived in a wheelchair one day and not needed it the next, people assume I’ve somehow made a miraculous recovery. If only it worked like that.But the worst part isn’t the questions—it’s the shift you feel.

The moment they find out you have MS or a hidden disability, the tone changes. The respect drains from the room. You’re suddenly not a potential colleague or asset. You’re a risk. An inconvenience. A favour. Often it seems subconscious—but it’s there. I’ve sat in interviews where I’ve felt empowered, capable, prepared… only to feel belittled, patronised, or completely written off within seconds of disclosure. It chips away at your confidence. It makes you feel like you have to mask your reality just to be considered equal.

I’ve hidden my condition to survive in roles. I’ve avoided asking for access adjustments in interviews because I feared I’d be written off before I’d even sat down. In one presenting job last year, I downplayed my MS just to be hired. When I eventually opened up to colleagues about my treatment—like needing time off for chemotherapy—I was called in for “chats” about completely unrelated issues. I was asked invasive questions, made to feel like I was under suspicion, and ultimately dismissed without warning. I was told I was a “liability.”

Recently, I applied for a presenter role with a TV channel. The interview went well —they told me I was a great fit and they were excited. Then I mentioned, casually, that I had MS. After that, silence. When I finally chased it up weeks later, I was told I was “not quite the right fit” anymore.

This is the reality for many of us with hidden or fluctuating conditions. We work hard, we perform well, and we still get pushed aside. Not because of our ability, but because of assumptions. Fear. Prejudice.  So when you say, “You don’t look disabled,” think about what that really means. Because what you can’t see is the discrimination, the battles, the energy it takes just to be allowed in the room. I may not look disabled every day—but I am. And I deserve the same respect, opportunity, and dignity as anyone else.

Scarlett Red

Scarlett Red on-screen presenting news