The History We Cannot Afford to Forget: When Disability Was Criminalized in Public
Part One of a Through Evely's Eyes series on the dark history of disability in America
There is something I say often as a disability advocate:
To understand where we are, we have to understand where we've been.
And lately, that feels less like a history lesson and more like a warning.
When disabled people, caregivers, and disability advocates raise concerns about policies that threaten healthcare, community-based services, education, accessibility, and other supports, sometimes we're told we're overreacting.
We're being dramatic.
Surely things could never get that bad.
But here's the problem:
They already have.
There was a time in the United States when simply existing in public while visibly disabled could be against the law.
Not metaphorically.
Not because someone was breaking another law and happened to have a disability.
There were actual municipal ordinances specifically written to keep certain disabled people out of public view.
Today, we commonly refer to them as the Ugly Laws.
What Were the "Ugly Laws"?
Beginning in the late 1800s, several American cities adopted ordinances targeting people whose disabilities, illnesses, injuries, or physical differences were considered "unsightly."
These weren't collectively called "Ugly Laws" by the people writing them at the time. Historians often describe them as "unsightly beggar ordinances," and the term "Ugly Laws" came later.
But what they attempted to regulate was painfully clear:
Who was considered acceptable to be seen in public.
One of the most frequently cited examples comes from Chicago.
In 1881, the city enacted an ordinance targeting people described as "diseased, maimed, mutilated" or physically "deformed" if their appearance was considered objectionable.
The penalty for appearing in public under the ordinance was a fine.
Think about that for a moment.
A disabled person didn't necessarily have to hurt anyone.
They didn't have to threaten anyone.
Their body could be treated as the problem.
Their visibility could be the offense.
Disability Wasn't Something Society Wanted to Accommodate. It Was Something Society Wanted to Hide.
This is one of the reasons I believe disability history is so important.
Because accessibility didn't simply appear one day.
Disabled children weren't always welcomed into neighborhood schools.
Disabled adults weren't always protected from discrimination.
Disabled people haven't always had a recognized right to participate in community life.
And before ramps, curb cuts, accessible transportation, inclusive classrooms, community-based services, and civil-rights protections became things Americans fought to establish, our country had systems that often responded to disability very differently:
Remove the person instead of removing the barrier.
If someone's body made society uncomfortable, society could decide that they were the thing that needed to disappear.
That history matters.
And This Wasn't Ancient History
Sometimes we talk about disability history as though we're discussing another civilization.
We're not.
Chicago's ordinance wasn't repealed until 1974.
The last recorded arrest associated with an Ugly Law also occurred in 1974, in Omaha, Nebraska.
1974!!!
There are people alive today who were already adults when an American city could still have this kind of ordinance on its books.
The Americans with Disabilities Act wouldn't become law until 1990.
That's why I need people to understand something:
Disability rights are young.
Many of the protections we now treat as normal exist because disabled people and their allies organized, protested, crawled up government steps, occupied buildings, filed lawsuits, told their stories, demanded access, and refused to disappear.
They fought to be seen.
They fought to be educated.
They fought to work.
They fought to live in their communities.
They fought for the radical idea that disabled people belong everywhere everyone else belongs.
Why Am I Talking About Ugly Laws in 2026?
Because history doesn't have to repeat itself word for word for history to teach us something.
An Ugly Law does not need to reappear under the name "Ugly Law" for us to pay attention to whether policies make it harder for disabled people to live, learn, receive healthcare, work, participate in their communities, or exist in public life.
And right now, disabled Americans and their families are paying very close attention to changes involving Medicaid, education, federal oversight, community-based services, and other systems on which millions of people rely.
Some of those changes are being defended as efforts to reduce spending, fraud, bureaucracy, or federal involvement. Disability advocates have raised concerns about whether particular changes could instead result in people losing coverage, services, or practical access to their communities.
Those impacts deserve scrutiny.
Because Medicaid isn't merely an insurance card for many disabled people.
It can mean home and community-based services.
Personal care.
Medical equipment.
Therapies.
Transportation.
Caregiver support.
The difference between receiving care at home and being forced into a more restrictive setting.
So when disabled people tell you that policy decisions can determine whether they are able to participate fully in their communities, understand that this fear does not exist without historical context.
We've seen what happens when society decides disability is too expensive.
Too inconvenient.
Too complicated.
Too uncomfortable to look at.
"But Surely We Would Never Go Back There."
I hope we never do.
But "we would never" is not how civil rights are protected.
Knowing our history is.
Paying attention is.
Holding systems accountable is.
Listening to the people most affected is.
Teaching the next generation is.
And refusing to treat rights that people fought decades to obtain as though they are permanent simply because we inherited them.
This is why I teach my children disability history.
It's why I talk about the Capitol Crawl.
It's why we learn about Judith Heumann and the Section 504 protests.
It's why we talk about institutionalization, forced sterilization, segregation, the fight for education, the independent-living movement, and the generations of disabled activists whose work made our children's lives possible.
And it's why I'm beginning this series.
Over the next several months, we're going to explore some of the darker chapters of disability history in the United States. Not to create fear, but because we cannot understand the disability-rights movement without understanding what disabled people were fighting against.
Some of this history will be uncomfortable.
It should be.
Because the Ugly Laws weren't ugly because disabled people were ugly.
The laws were ugly because discrimination was written into them.
And if we want to make sure history doesn't repeat itself, we first have to be brave enough to learn what happened.
Disabled people have always belonged in our schools.
In our workplaces.
In our churches.
In our restaurants.
In our parks.
In our neighborhoods.
In our government.
In our communities.
In public.
They should never again have to fight for permission simply to be seen.
— Tameka Simmons
Founder, Through Evely's Eyes
Sources & Further Reading
Disability history matters, and so does telling it accurately. The historical information shared in this article was informed by the following sources. I encourage readers to explore them and continue learning about the history of disability rights in the United States.
University of California Press. A comprehensive history of the municipal ordinances commonly known as the “Ugly Laws” and the treatment of disabled and visibly different people in American public spaces.
Federal analysis and projections regarding recent legislative changes affecting Medicaid spending and enrollment.
An overview of the ordinances enacted by several U.S. cities that restricted certain disabled, diseased, injured, or visibly different people from appearing in public spaces.
This article is part of The History We Cannot Afford to Forget, a Through Evely’s Eyes series exploring the history of disability, exclusion, activism, and civil rights in the United States.
Understanding where we are requires understanding where we’ve been.
Learn the history. Remember who fought for these rights. Keep moving the work forward.
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