I may never know what it is to be a woman,? says Michelle in Sanjay Leela Bhansali?s Black. It?s a delicate moment; the deaf-blind girl played by Rani Mukherjee has just realised after her sister?s engagement that some experiences will remain beyond her.

She turns to Debraj, played by Amitabh Bachchan, the man who has taught her everything she knows. All she wants is a kiss. He hesitates, draws back, and then somewhere between compassion and attraction, responds to her need. One kiss is all that Michelle/ Rani will have in the way of a romantic moment, of being a woman. Black makes you ask a simple question: doesn?t a disabled woman have the same right to have a relationship, or to experience emotional and sexual needs, as any other woman? It acknowledges the real-life dilemma of women in India who are differently abled when Michelle says that she will never know what it is to be simply a woman ? not deaf-blind, not ?handicapped? ? just a woman.

Many of the women who shared their experiences for this column are independent professionals, most have learned how to manage their disabilities and all of them have thriving social lives. ?I don?t want people to look at me and say, bechari. There is nothing bechari about me,? said one firmly. But all of them asked for anonymity on this particular issue: ?I can?t tell my friends that I have sexual needs without seeing them recoil,? said one wheelchair-bound woman.

There were two clear levels of demarcation. For women with severe mental disabilities, articulating their needs and desires is difficult, often impossible: as they grow older, their families deal, usually with embarrassment even if it is layered with understanding, with what is considered ?inappropriate? behaviour. For women physically disabled, the problems are personal or social.

?I was always encouraged to work,? said one woman with visual and hearing impairments, ?even though my family is conservative. They said, ?Who will look after you otherwise??? There was no question of dating or marriage. In her 30s, she?s attractive, confident. But she has never been asked out by a man; she has internalised the dictum that no man will want her.

Many had learned to be wary. Some had been exploited, even abused, by unscrupulous men. Some faced complex problems. ?Some men think dating me gives them more niceness factor ? I spit on their pity,? said a deaf friend. Many endured disapproval from friends and family if they articulated their needs. ?It?s like, you?re a freak, how perverted of you to want sex.?

Despite the barriers, some women find love. ?My husband and I met at work; he saw me limping around, slurring, but he also saw my mind,? said one woman. I ask him what drew him to her. ?Her eyes,? he says, smiling at his wife. ?She has mischief in them. I never saw her as broken; there?s nothing in her that needs to be fixed.?

Women who are differently-abled wish everyone had this sort of vision. ?I want someone to see me the way I am. Not to ignore my cane and [leg] braces and everything. But not to see just the cane.? After just half an hour with her, I can see her the way she wants to be seen: neither as invisible, nor as disabled, but as an individual. Why is it so hard for the world see her that way?