In late 2015, the performer Emma Selwyn was working in a call centre. It was, she says, a “steady job”, if not a particularly fulfilling one. In fact, she had thoughts of quitting, tempted by the prospect of a diploma for learning disabled and autistic artists. In the end, the decision was taken out of her hands: she was let go while still on her probation, so signed up for the diploma. It was a series of events she looks back on as a “blessing in disguise”. “In my mind, it was like, ‘What else is there? What have I got to lose now?’” she says. “I went along to one of the auditions and I don’t think I’ve ever really looked back.” For Selwyn, doing the course was “nothing short of transformative”. Selwyn is now one of four artists who make up Not Your Circus Dog, a collective of queer, learning disabled and neurodiverse performers who came together as a result of that course, run by the disability theatre company Access All Areas and the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama. On 17 December, the collective will take its show Not F**kin’ Sorry, a co-production with Access All Areas and another company called The Hale, to the Southbank Centre, after a run at Soho theatre earlier this year. At its heart, Not F**kin’ Sorry is an unapologetic exploration of the performers’ fantasies, thoughts and desires – from smoking to sex – upending audiences’ preconceptions. The show blends the silly and the serious, the crowd sucked in by the cheekiness of its actors, before being slapped with the harrowing facts; for example, how the Covid-19 death rate is disproportionately high for disabled people. For Selwyn, it also highlights the importance of casting performers with disabilities in a wide range of roles, reflecting their complexity. “Disability theatre is not all cute little community projects,” as Selwyn puts it. “I know that sounds like I’m dissing community projects, but that’s not what I mean … We exist, too. We can be professionals. We can be just as much angels or devils as everyone else. We can have the same kinks or non-kinks as everyone else.” Not F**kin’ Sorry arrives at a time of greater visibility for performers with disabilities, with a host of productions bringing their voices to theatres across the country. Last month, Ramps on the Moon, a partnership of six theatres supporting deaf and disabled performers, finished its latest tour, a take on Much Ado About Nothing, while its previous production of Oliver Twist is currently being streamed online by the National Theatre. Its next production, Village Idiot, tours theatres including Nottingham Playhouse and London’s Theatre Royal Stratford East from March. For Michèle Taylor, director for change at Ramps on the Moon, the current “bloom” in theatre showcasing neurodiverse and disabled actors goes “across the whole mainstream sector … Companies and individuals are seeing the talent and strong voice we can bring, as disabled, deaf and neurodivergent people, to the storytelling,” she says. “Disabled people bring authenticity to characters written to be disabled, and we can bring something fresh to those characters not traditionally presented as disabled.” It’s a bloom that is set to continue: in spring next year, Access All Areas will take its biggest production yet to the main stage of the Royal Court in London, in a partnership between the two companies, for a run set to last several weeks. Details are still under wraps, but it’s set to be a darkly comic fable exploring the oppression of people with learning disabilities. Housni Hassan (known as DJ), who is part of Not Your Circus Dog, will be among the seven-strong cast of learning disabled and autistic performers. How is he feeling about it? “I’m really thrilled,” he says. “My life is at peace. I didn’t get a good childhood but I’ve left that. And look at me now: I’m at my best and I want everybody to feel just like me, at the top of the clouds.” Access All Areas and Ramps on the Moon are far from alone. A raft of other theatre companies are working to createing opportunities for neurodiverse, deaf and disabled performers, including Graeae in London, which recently won a UK theatre award, and the circus troupe Extraordinary Bodies. DJ also performs with Corali, a dance company set up by people with learning disabilities. Selwyn, meanwhile, praises actors such as Amy Trigg, alongside the companies Mind the Gap in Bradford, Unanima theatre in Mansfield and Blue Apple in Winchester. The latter was set up by the mother of Tommy Jessop, the first actor with Down’s syndrome to play a lead role in a British prime-time TV drama (Coming Down the Mountain), and who also starred in the BBC’s Line of Duty. Indeed, it is a drive that’s also reflected on television. Access All Areas led as consultants on the Netflix film I Used to Be Famous and the BBC’s Ralph & Katie, both of which highlight the experiences of disabled people, and is involved with another high-profile BBC show set to be announced later this month. In the comedy world, standup Rosie Jones has spoken of her pride in being part of the disabled community. Her growing list of TV credits includes presenting Channel 4’s Dine Hard series earlier this year. In Scotland, Robert Gale is artistic director of Birds of Paradise Theatre Company, which works with both disabled and non-disabled artists. What does he hope to achieve? “There’s a real disconnect between disabled people and the ways of non-disabled society,” explains Gale. “There is a real passion among the disabled actors I work with to break down those barriers to get that message out there.” In October, Birds of Paradise finished a run of its show Don’t. Make. Tea. at Edinburgh’s Traverse theatre, a dark comedy critiquing Scotland’s disability benefits system, and is now preparing for an international tour of another production – a roadshow exploring what it means to be disabled. “A career in the arts and in theatre is not the most obvious for a guy with a speech impediment who uses a wheelchair,” says Gale. “So I think there is something quite political about being on stage as a disabled person, being visible in that way and being able to tell these stories.” But challenges lie ahead, says Taylor, of Ramps on the Moon: “Disabled people are being disproportionately impacted by the cost of living crisis and this will have an impact on audiences as well as on those looking for work.” She says there are also worries that any changes to disabled people’s benefits and allowances in the future “could present real challenges when it comes to engaging with short-term paid work” – which, she adds, is “an issue that many disabled people already face”. Funding is another concern. While 32 disability-led theatre companies received funding from the Arts Council’s national portfolio programme last month, others missed out, including Dark Horse theatre in Huddersfield, which, despite the setback, promised to continue making “visually astounding, bold and progressive theatre”. But, as Taylor explains, “a whole host” of steps to improve accessibility can be “very simple and easy to action”, and at relatively low cost. These include building in more or longer intervals to allow performers to manage their energy or pain, while also giving those using wheelchairs or mobility aids the time to get where they need to be. While Selwyn says that some steps to improve accessibility – such as captioning performances or hiring sign-language interpreters – mean companies face a “seemingly bigger expenditure in the beginning”, she stresses that these changes “should actually create much bigger growth in the long term … Because then it shows that your company is willing to take risks and explore, and willing to listen to marginalised people of various sorts. If those tools can be put in place, they don’t just help people who are definitely and openly neurodivergent or learning-disabled. Accessibility helps everyone.” Ultimately, says Selwyn, it is about ensuring the true breadth of experiences of neurodiverse, deaf and disabled people are represented on stage, just like the rest of society. “Neurotypical and most able-bodied people are allowed to show a wide range of humanity,” she says. “Let’s not forget that neurodivergent people have just as wide a range of humanity, too. It’s just on slightly different terms.”