By James Attah Ansah
Published with Modern Ghana on 2nd August 2025
Let’s get obstinate for a second.
You see two adults pecking in the park. Cute, right? You probably scroll past on your phone. Now, picture one of them with intellectual disability (ID). Quickly, the vibe changes. People murmur. Parents pull their kids away. Society quietly labels it: “inapt,” “childish,” or worse, “dangerous.”
Let me stop you there.
Love doesn’t come with an IQ condition. Yet, when it comes to persons with ID, we act like romance is an app they’re not permitted to download. Well, newsflash: people with ID don’t just want companionship—they deserve it. And honestly, they might handle it better than the rest of us.
Let’s Bust a Myth or Two
The most toxic myth? That people with ID are “eternal children.” That they are innocent, asexual or incapable of complex emotions. Spoiler alert: they are not. They grow up. They go through puberty. They get crushes. They want to date, flirt, love and so on. Just like you. Only difference? You don’t need permission, right?
Take Kofo and Kemi. They met at a vocational centre. He has moderate ID, she has mild ID. They shared snacks, danced at lunchtime, and told anyone who would listen they were “together.” They once got into a fight over who forgot whose birthday—but they made up over a pack of puff-puff (bofrot) and a handwritten card.
Their love is real. But their families don’t think so. “They are not ready.” “What if they can’t handle marriage?” “What will people say?”
I have a better question: what if they’re the only couple I know that actually talks about their feelings?
Romance, Yes. Recklessness, No.
Let’s be clear—nobody is saying throw people into relationships without guidance. Like everyone, people with ID need:
- Education about consent, boundaries and healthy intimacy.
- Support navigating emotions and conflict.
- Freedom to experience and learn from mistakes.
You wouldn’t let your teenager date without any conversations about respect, sex or heartbreak. The same goes for someone with ID. Only here, we tend to go two extremes: overprotect or ignore entirely.
Some families treat their adult child like a monk. No dating. No flirting. Definitely no conversations about sex. Others act like it’s not their business and leave them completely unsupported; setting them up for loneliness or even exploitation.
There’s a middle ground: supported relationships. This means guided dating programmes, accessible relationship education and family or caregiver check-ins that don’t feel like police interrogations.
Awkward but Necessary Conversations
Yes, it will be awkward at first. But so is puberty. So is your uncle’s wedding toast. That doesn’t mean you skip it.
People with ID often want to talk about attraction, but they don’t know who to trust. They’re full of questions:
- “Can I have a girlfriend?”
- “What if someone proposes to me and I don’t want it?”
- “How do I tell someone I like them?”
We need to answer without shame. Without giggling. Without acting like it’s bizarre.
Because honestly, the weird thing is how many “typical” people think ghosting someone is acceptable. Or how many adults don’t know how to apologise when they’re wrong. People with ID? They’re blunt, honest and emotionally intuitive. They’re better at romance than you think.
Real Love, Not a Cute Story
This isn’t about pity-dating. People with ID don’t need your charity. They need respect. They’re not adorable pets with crushes—they’re full human beings who want to love and be loved.
There are people with ID who get married. Some have children. Some choose not to. Some break up and cry into ice cream. Sound familiar? That’s called life.
We act like letting them love is a risk. But isn’t it riskier to isolate someone into a lifetime of loneliness? To deny them the chance to share, connect and grow with someone?
You say you want to protect them. Great. Then protect their right to choose.
Conclusion: Love Without Bounds (or Tags)
Here’s the truth: love doesn’t look the same for everyone. For some, it’s candlelit dinners and deep conversations. For others, it’s singing together at a vocational centre and walking home hand-in-hand.
People with intellectual disability can—and do—fall in love. They deserve relationships built on honesty, respect and support. They deserve our help, not our horror.
So, the next time you see two people with ID holding hands, smile. They might just be doing this love thing better than you are. Fewer games. More heart. And probably more puff-puff.
By James Attah Ansah Website: https://jaansahpublications.com
