Francesca Nnamchi, a disabled medical student, shares her fight for accessible higher education, exposing systemic failures in DSA support, housing, and a lack of inclusive designs for disabled students in the UK.
Barriers aren’t in my body – they’re in the system. As a medical student with Limb-Girdle Muscular Dystrophy type 2A (LGMD), anxiety, and depression, I’ve learned that the most challenging part of my education isn’t the content – it’s the relentless battle for access.
From unsafe housing to bureaucratic failures, my journey exposes the gaps in support for disabled students. This is not just a story of inconvenience, it is a chronicle of systemic negligence that directly led to my failure of my first-year exams, forcing me to retake them while still being denied the basic tools to succeed.
When the system fails: my experience with the Disabled Students’ Allowance (DSA)
The Disabled Students’ Allowance (DSA) is intended to empower disabled students; however, in my experience, it has been characterised by two years of misinformation, unfulfilled commitments, and unprofessional conduct.
During my initial needs assessment in London on 21st April 2023, I was misinformed regarding the funding for a high-specification MacBook, a device essential for addressing my physical and cognitive requirements.
The DSA Handbook (2024/2025) explicitly states: “Where a high-cost computer is required solely due to the student’s disability, funding for the additional costs…will be provided.” My need for such a device is exclusively disability-related, and the failure to provide it constitutes a breach of reasonable adjustment obligations.
I was made to contribute £1,600 from my disability benefits to upgrade from a low-specification device, despite the DSA’s own regulations dictating full coverage for the recommended high-specification MacBook, which I should have been advised to obtain from the outset.
Crucially, a taxi allowance was promised but never actioned, leaving me stranded. The equipment that did arrive was useless: a heavy metal laptop stand I couldn’t lift and a manual chair instead of the required motorised one. After my assessment centre closed in March 2024, I was left in limbo for seven months before even being referred for a new assessment.
The unprofessionalism peaked on the 2nd April 2025, in a hotline call, where I overheard Student Finance England (SFE) staff making demeaning comments, accusing me of “faking it” for a “free MacBook” and labelling me “high maintenance.” This incident, coupled with a data breach where my information was sent to an incorrect email, resulted in an insulting compensation offer of just £150.
In a dismissive email on June 5, 2025, SFE concluded “there’s nothing further we need” regarding my case, ignoring extensive evidence from my physiotherapist and my own lived experience. They rejected expert medical input, demonstrated a shocking lack of understanding of my disability, and prematurely closed the door on providing the support I am legally entitled to under the Equality Act 2010.
Unsafe housing and inaccessible spaces: why ‘accessible’ doesn’t mean livable
Housing should be a sanctuary, not a health hazard. Yet, my current accommodation in Southampton is a daily threat. On 3rd February 2025, I fell and lay stranded for 90 minutes until emergency services arrived. On 21st April 2025, I was stuck between the sink and toilet for 40 minutes—another ambulance call.
My occupational therapy (OT) assessment notes that, while my room may technically comply with Building Regulation Approved Document M, it’s practically too small for my powered wheelchair. Walls are scarred from collisions, and the wear on my wheelchair shows the struggle. The kitchen’s inaccessibility forces me to cook in my bedroom, a fire risk that erodes the independence I fight to maintain.
My appeal to Southampton City Council on 18th June 2025, under Section 98 of their Housing Allocations Policy, highlights their errors: they misrecorded my application and ignored my urgent medical needs and the hardship of uprooting me from my support network.
My condition is worsening faster because of this space, with falls, skin rashes from prolonged bed positioning, and relentless pain. Essential adaptations, like an electric shower seat, require renovations that won’t solve the room’s fundamental constraints. I need purpose-built housing with step-free access, space for my equipment, and a separate room for a carer to meet my overnight assistance needs because “accessible” doesn’t equal livable.
Academic failure by design: how inaccessibility affects disabled students
The direct and foreseeable consequence of these systemic failures is that I have now failed one out of three of my end-of-year examinations and am required to resit all three in August. This is not a reflection of my capability but a direct result of being denied the fundamental tools needed to study effectively with my disability.
The energy I should have dedicated to my studies was consumed by fighting a negligent system. As of today, I am facing critical resits without the height-adjustable desk, appropriate ergonomic chair, or over-bed table identified as essential in my needs assessments.
To be forced into academic failure by the very agencies meant to support me, and to be expected to redeem this failure without the approved reasonable adjustments, is a profound and continuing violation of my rights. Should I be unable to pass, I would face repeating the year, incurring an additional tuition loan as a direct financial penalty for the support provider’s negligence.
From isolation to advocacy: amplifying disabled student voices
I could’ve stayed silent, but isolation fueled my fight. In July 2025, I lodged a formal DSA appeal, citing delays, data breaches, and the unprofessional conduct of SFE staff, Armed with the Equality Act and medical reports, I demanded proper equipment and meaningful redress for the broader systemic failures. The odds are stacked against me, but SFE needs to start listening.
As a new content creator on TikTok (@TheRollingMedic), I’m sharing my reality—navigating campus, battling fatigue, and exposing policy failures. With 200 followers and growing, my platform is just beginning, but each post amplifies disabled voices. Advocacy isn’t just personal—it’s a lifeline for others facing the same walls. Every post, every appeal, chips away at systemic neglect.
@therollingmedic The reality of med school with a disability… It’s about finding your rhythm and getting it done, even if you spill your lunch along the way. So, to every single one of you who’s been on this journey, thank you. Although it might seem small to some, it’s a big deal for me. You make sharing the reality, even the clumsy bits, feel worth it. If my story even inspires just one person, that’s enough for me. Lots of love, and here’s to the next milestone together! 🤍 Edited by @Fahim ‼️🙏🏾 #DayInMyLifedSchoolVlog #DisabilityInclusion #StudyWithMe #KeepingItReal #StudentLife #SouthamptonUni #AccessibleStudySpaces #Medicine #UniversityOfSouthampton #LGMD #MuscularDystrophy #DisabilityAwareness #MedTok #WheelchairUser #FYP ♬ Countless – Official Sound Studio
Reimagining university: building a truly inclusive and accessible higher education system
Higher education can – and must – change. Proactive DSA reviews every quarter could catch my evolving needs before they spiral. Universal design – think step-free access and adjustable desks – should be the norm, not a favour. Integrated support, blending physical and mental health care, would see me as a whole person. And co-creation with disabled students like me ensures solutions fit our lives, not just the rulebook.
These aren’t dreams; they’re practical steps to stop others from enduring what I have. Accessibility isn’t charity – it’s justice.
My story is not unique. It is a reflection of a system that is failing disabled students across the country. We are not asking for special treatment; we are asking for equal access. We are asking for a system that listens to us, that understands our needs, and that provides us with the support we need to thrive.
It is time for a fundamental shift in how we approach accessible higher education. We need to move beyond a one-size-fits-all approach and create a system that is flexible, responsive, and truly inclusive. We need to challenge the ableism that underpins so many of the barriers we face and create a culture of respect and understanding.
These are not radical ideas; they are practical steps to ensure no other student endures what I have. Accessibility is not charity; it is a legal and moral obligation.
My journey has been difficult, but it has also strengthened my resolve. I will continue to fight for a future where all disabled students have the opportunity to reach their full potential, a future where our disabilities are not seen as barriers, but as a part of the rich diversity of the human experience.
My path through medical school is paved with obstacles, but each fight sharpens my resolve. True inclusion means tearing down systemic barriers, not forcing us to climb them. With students, educators, and policymakers united, we can craft an education system where disability is embraced, not endured. My wheels keep rolling – will the system catch up?
Are you a disabled student navigating inaccessible systems? Share your experiences in the comments box, on social media or contact us to share your personal story.