Our First Community Event: Disability Dinner Date
Wayfarer was initially just a really good idea for a product - design-led mobility aids that work properly and look like they belong in real life. But the further I got into using mobility aids, the more I found myself wanting to find my people. Other people with the same shared experience and the thing that so many people are missing when disability enters the chat: community, context, and a sense of possibility. But what I found really didn’t suit me.
I’m not loud and proud about my condition. In fact, I don’t often share my diagnosis with anyone.
I don’t feel like an ‘advocate’, nor have I accepted the fact that I can no longer run or hike or do any of the things I loved. I went to one support group and, upon being called a ‘resilient warrior babe’, realised that was decidedly not for me.
I’ve found two flavours of disability support group/community: toxic positivity or commiseration circle.
And if you’ve followed Wayfarer or me for a while, you know I subscribe to neither of those things.
There doesn’t always have to be a lesson or a silver lining to things. Your disability can just be no good, very bad, not fun.
We also don’t have to accept or celebrate our malfunctioning mortal shells.
Personally, I find my disability to be the least interesting thing about me, and whilst I need to adapt my life around it, I’m still the one running the show. I can’t control the cards I’ve been dealt, but I sure as hell can control how I play them.
And I thought - surely I’m not the only one that doesn’t want to have my taste, conversations, style and decisions TOTALLY governed by the worst element of me. And when I couldn’t find the right circle, I made my own: The Wayfarer Movement.
This community is for you if you’re one of the people doing disability (or chronic illness) a little differently.
It’s for people who crave normal life but have to work harder than most to access it.
People who need modifications and adaptations, who carry mobility aids, who do the mental maths before saying yes, and who still don’t want disability to be the main conversation topic. Not hidden. Just not centre stage.
The Disability Dinner Date is our first step into that world.
It’s a pilot event, so expect a small, intentionally designed dinner that brings people together around something simple and often overlooked: the fact that disability can make social life feel logistically complex, emotionally loaded, or absolutely exhausting. Dating. Friendship. Showing up. Being perceived. All of it.
This isn’t a panel. It’s not a networking night. It’s not “tell us your trauma” either.
It’s a dinner designed to feel like what it should have always been: good food, good company, and a room where disability and chronic illness aren’t the main headline of the evening, they’re simply part of it. Where you don’t have to translate yourself. Where you can arrive as you are, and leave feeling more like yourself.
It’s important to say clearly: this isn’t for everyone - by design.
This dinner is for people who don’t want to lead with their diagnosis.
It’s not for people who want disability to be the headline of the night.
It’s not for people who love loud, bright aesthetics and want to broadcast their disability (genuinely, if that’s you, power to you).
It’s not for people who naturally click with the traditional disability support model.
It’s for the people who find their disability to be the least interesting thing about them.
People of all ages and genders who still want beauty. Taste. Ease. Good conversation.
On the night you can expect:
A small, curated dinner (max 16 guests)
Hosted and gently facilitated conversation so you can skip the awkward small talk
Delicious food and drinks
Partners, friends, support people welcome - if they’re close to the experience and you’d like them there
No pressure to disclose diagnosis details, history, or “what happened”
A focus on normalcy, taste, and ease. A genuinely good night out, just better designed
We’re treating this as a pilot for a broader events program to come, one that’s thoughtful, well-hosted, and grounded in lived experience. Events that make disability feel less like a limitation you manage alone, and more like a reality you can move through with style, humour, strategy, and plenty of real support.