On paper, the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment carries a profound mandate: To implement the Rights of Persons with Disabilities Act, 2016, and the Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act, 2019. In practice, however, its approach has too often drifted from rights to charity, from consultation to control. I have seen this up close.There was the spectacle of wheelchair users assembled not as citizens with rights, but as props in a bid for a Guinness World Record to mark the Prime Minister’s birthday. Then, there was the startling admission by a senior official that there was no need to consult the transgender community while drafting legislation meant to empower them because “we know what needs to be done”. In such moments, the language of empowerment reveals its hollow core.AdvertisementThe pattern is not new. Yesterday, when the Transpersons Amendment Bill was passed in the Lok Sabha, 11 MPs raised concerns that went unanswered. For many, the speed felt eerily familiar — reminiscent of the hurried passage of disability legislation years earlier. Consultation, it seemed, was an inconvenience.Even where progress is claimed, it comes fractured. The disability law expanded the recognised categories to 21, yet reservation in jobs apply to only 15, leaving six groups excluded without explanation. Equality, promised in principle, falters in execution.Representation, too, remains symbolic at best. Just as the National Council for Transgender Persons struggles with meaningful inclusion, the position of Chief Commissioner for persons with disabilities has, since 2016, effectively been an additional charge held by non-disabled bureaucrats. The message is subtle but clear: Lived experience is optional.AdvertisementThen came the pandemic — a moment that demanded empathy, patience, and participatory governance. Instead, draft rules for the Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act were introduced during lockdown with barely 12 days for feedback. Proposed amendments affecting disability law (decriminalisation process) followed with just 10 days for comment, despite a pre-legislative consultation policy mandating 30 days. Consultation became a checkbox. Participation, an afterthought.The Cost of SilenceIn the corridors of MSJE — often described by insiders as a “punishment posting”— decisions shaping millions of lives are made with unsettling haste. When activists urged the Prime Minister to abandon the term “divyang”, calling it patronising and discriminatory, the department pushed it forward anyway.Then came the echoes from the top: The overreach did not stop at rhetoric. In Maharashtra, then Secretary of the Persons with Disabilities (PwD) Welfare Department, Tukaram Mundhe, ordered a mandatory reassessment of employees with lifelong disability certificates, a move later deemed “illegal” by the NHRC. These reveal a pattern: Governance that speaks over communities rather than with them.And yet, there are moments of resistance that offer hope.Last year, problematic content on disability and LGBTI issues reappeared in the medical curriculum. It was not a single community but a coalition — disability groups and transgender organisations — who came together. Their joint voices were harder to ignore. The content was withdrawn.Why Solidarity Is Not OptionalDisability and queer struggles are not identical, but they intersect in their marginalisation, in their exclusion from decision-making, and in the way the state alternates between paternalism and neglect. Neither community is a reliable “vote bank”. Both are often spoken for, rather than spoken with.Solidarity, then, is not political convenience. It is a necessity.But even this alliance must grow. Social justice cannot be achieved in silos. The absence of broader support — from Dalit, Adivasi, and other marginalised communities — limits the transformative potential of these movements. Intersectionality is not an academic concept; it is a roadmap for collective survival.There is also unfinished constitutional work. Articles 14 and 15 promise equality and non-discrimination, yet do not explicitly address disability or sexual characteristics. Meanwhile, constitutional amendments can be fast-tracked when politically expedient, as seen with economic reservation. The irony is hard to miss. Policies are framed under the banner of Sabka Saath, Sabka Vikas, Sabka Vishwas. But without genuine consultation, without representation, without accountability, these remain slogans rather than lived realities.you may likeA Different AnswerThe call of the disability rights movement — “Nothing About Us Without Us” — does not stop at disability. It extends outward. It invites alliance. It demands that we stand with each other, not just for ourselves.Only then can governance become truly citizen-centric. Only then can rights move from paper to practice. And only then can we begin to build a society that does not just include — but listens, respects, and evolves.The writer is founder of Doctors with Disabilities: Agents of Change and a disability justice advocate. Views are personal