The media and beauty industries are evolving to reflect more diverse stories, but for many disabled professionals, real inclusion remains out of reach. Lucy Edwards, a blind journalist, content creator, and disability advocate based in the UK, is helping shift that. Through her work online and off, Lucy challenges assumptions about blindness, shares practical tools for independent living, and advocates for more accessible design.
Her story begins long before her first video or campaign. “I lost my eyesight, or my journey with my eyesight kind of started at age eight,” she says. A routine eye test led to a rare diagnosis: incontinentia pigmenti . “It culminated in my complete sight loss at age 17.” Overnight, familiar routines became major hurdles.
“I had to learn how to navigate my life again,” she says. “I had to learn how to pour a cup of tea and get a loaf of bread with my guide dog.”
That shift wasn’t just physical. It was deeply emotional. Lucy was in school, studying for her A-levels, and had to take a year out to adjust. She enrolled in law school after that but dropped out due to the toll it took on her mental health.
What followed was a slow, difficult journey toward self-acceptance. “I didn’t really like being blind back then,” she shares. “Even though I do now.” It took time to rebuild her sense of independence and to accept blindness not as something to overcome, but as something to integrate into her identity.
Community became a turning point. But at the time, Lucy couldn’t find one. “I used to Google blindness and nothing would come up that I could relate to at all.” So she decided to create the space herself.
She turned to YouTube, sharing personal moments, like learning to do her makeup again. “It was the very first moment that I was like, oh my gosh, it’s taken me a year to be able to do this. Let’s show everybody.” That video wasn’t perfectly produced. In fact, you could hear the washing machine in the background. But it resonated, and more importantly, it gave her a way to connect. The response was immediate and validating. For the first time, Lucy felt less alone, and she knew others watching would feel the same.
Since then, she’s grown into a public figure, using her platform to explore not only the technical realities of blindness but also the cultural misconceptions that surround it. She often gets asked the same few questions: How does she pour water? How does she climb stairs? Does she dream?
“They’re questions that, at first, made me laugh or feel surprised,” she says. “But over time, I realized that if this many people are wondering, then there’s a gap in understanding. And that gap is where change needs to happen.”
But some of the feedback she receives goes far beyond curiosity. As she began speaking publicly about wanting to have children, she was targeted with abuse. “You should be sterilized,” one comment read. “You’re going to choke your baby.” Rather than silence her, this backlash has strengthened her resolve. “It makes me more fired and fueled to want to talk about it. Because if people still think that way, then we need to be louder.”
Lucy doesn’t only challenge stereotypes through speech. She pushes for change from within industries, particularly media and beauty, where disabled people are still often left out of leadership roles.
“There’s more representation in front of the camera, yes,” she explains. “But the real shift happens when we have people with lived experience as producers, editors, and decision-makers. That’s how you change the narrative.”
Her partnership with Pantene is one example of change done right. Not only did she front a major campaign, but she also worked with the brand to improve packaging through the lens of universal design.
“It’s not just about blind people. It’s about the person who forgot their reading glasses, or who needs translation. Accessibility helps everyone.”
Day to day, Lucy relies on tools that blend seamlessly into her life. She highlights her iPhone more often than any specialized tech. Apps like Be My Eyes or Magnifier help her navigate, read labels, or detect doors. “That, for me, is freedom,” she says. She also uses a BrailleNote for work, especially valuable when writing articles or proofreading her children’s book manuscript. But even the best tech, Lucy notes, can’t replace good communication. Accessibility starts with asking, not assuming. “All blind people are different,” she says. “It’s about giving autonomy to the person that’s standing in front of you.”
This principle extends to workplaces, too. Employers, colleagues, and collaborators don’t need to be experts. They just need to be open. “The best conversations I’ve had, whether at work or in everyday life, are when we’re just two people asking each other what we need.”
Looking ahead, Lucy imagines a world where access isn’t an afterthought, but a given. Where blind people, and disabled people more broadly, don’t have to fight for the basics.
“It means a world without barriers,” she says. “A world where the thing that needs fixing is not me as the disabled person — it’s the world around me.”
That vision, like much of Lucy’s work, isn’t about inspiration. It’s about fairness. About agency. And about building systems where disabled people are not just visible, but valued.
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