Dusty Wentworth

When I was told to “man up” after my subarachnoid haemorrhage, I just looked at my wheelchair and wondered: what does that even mean now? For as long as I can remember, “man up” has been one of those phrases thrown around casually—on parade squares, in workplaces, in pubs. It sounds simple, even motivational. But in reality, it’s loaded with expectation. It doesn’t just ask a man to be strong; it demands silence, emotional suppression, and the illusion of control. After my aneurysm ruptured, I woke up in a body that no longer played by the rules. PTSD, Functional Neurological Disorder, Fibromyalgia, and brain injury became daily realities. Pain, fatigue, tremors, memory lapses—none of it fits the cultural script of “unshakeable masculinity.” And yet, people still said it: “man up.” But here’s the truth: I’ve discovered more strength in vulnerability than I ever did in hiding behind a mask. Real courage has been admitting when I can’t do something, asking for help, or sittin...

Access Denied: The Harsh Reality of Accessibility for Wheelchair Users in 2025 From broken paths to outdated laws, here's what's still falling short for wheelchair users in Britain. The Illusion of Progress We’re told the future is accessible. But for many of us, it still isn’t. Government and businesses love to highlight their progress on disability access, from new digital legislation to step-free train stations. But for wheelchair users, the lived reality often tells a different story—one of patchy infrastructure, outdated attitudes, and policy decisions that undermine the very freedoms they claim to support. Every day, as a full-time wheelchair user and a father, I encounter countless barriers. I see the cracks everywhere: in disabled bays with no room to get my kids out, in broken pavement ramps, in public toilets that are too small to turn around in. And while there’s a glimmer of hope with new legislation like the European Accessibility Act (EAA) 2025 focusin...