The Digital Shield: A Manifesto on AI, Disability, and the Fight for Authenticity

AI is a tool that can be used to assist us, rather than an external intruder. I utilise it to uphold my dignity in the face of ableism and capitalism. Being authentic involves relying on one's own strength rather than adopting a false persona. AI is intended to support us, not to replace us. Avoiding its use would be a step backwards.

Introduction: The Mirror of Human Progress

Humans built GPUs. We mined the silicon, designed the architecture of the AI chips, and wrote the code that birthed the Large Language Models (LLMs) we see today. Whether it is Google’s Gemini, OpenAI’s ChatGPT, France’s Mistral, or the CCP-influenced DeepSeek, they are all, at their core, human technological advancements. They are not alien invaders sent to replace us; they are mirrors reflecting our own capacity for logic, language, and creation.

In my eyes, rejecting AI entirely is like rejecting the camera because it threatened the portrait painter, or fearing the word processor because it made writing "too easy." I am an IT student in Sabah, but I am on hiatus for personal reasons. I am a Generation Z person. I live with autism and schizophrenia. And I refuse to let the fear-mongering of others dictate how I use the tools that help me survive.

There is a growing narrative online—often pushed by elitists or those who do not understand the struggle of disability—that AI poses a threat to "human authenticity." They claim that using these tools makes us "fake" or "lazy." But I believe the future economy will rely on a "market of authenticity," and in that market, AI is not the enemy. It is the shield I use to protect my dignity in a broken world.

Part I: The Myth of the "Perks" and the Reality of Masking

To understand why I defend AI so fiercely, you first have to understand the reality of living as a disabled person in a society built for the able-bodied.

There is a persistent myth that people like me are "pretending" or "trying hard" to be disabled because we want "perks." People think we want special parking spots or government handouts. This could not be further from the truth. The facts are much harsher. Most disabled people struggle every single day just to appear "normal." We are not faking our disability; we are faking our wellness.

We call this "masking." It is the exhausting process of suppressing our natural ticks, monitoring our tone, forcing eye contact, and filtering every word just to fit into what society considers "well-mannered" or "right." We strive to overcome stigma, discrimination, and ableism. We aim to be like other normal people, living happily. But the cost of that striving is burnout.

When I use an AI to help me formalise a sentence or check my grammar, I am not "cheating." I am offloading some of that mental burden. I am using a tool to bridge the gap between my neurodivergent brain and a world that demands neurotypical communication. To accuse me of being "disingenuous" for using a tool to make myself understood is a form of cruelty. It ignores the massive effort I put in just to exist in this space.

Part II: The Tech is Human, The Abuse is Unethical

I have seen the comments. In the past, on apps like Litmatch, I have been told hurtful things when I was transparent about my disability. “Diri sendiri pun dah kurang, nak kekasih masa depan yang perfect” (You yourself are lacking, yet you want a perfect future lover). “Memalukan Sabah sahaja” (Just embarrassing Sabah).

Now, I see a similar toxicity directed at AI users. "If you didn't write every word yourself, it's not yours." "Why are you using a machine to talk for you?"

This abuse is a threat to the progress of our online civilisation. AIs are human technology. Abusing someone who uses AI technology is an unethical use of human energy. It is gatekeeping. It is saying that only those who have the privilege of perfect cognitive function, perfect English, and perfect mental health deserve to be heard.

Non-native English speakers—many of us here in Malaysia—need these technologies to protect our dignity. When we use AI to polish our language, we are not hiding who we are; we are ensuring that our ideas are judged, not our grammar. We are using the technology to become more of ourselves, to clear away the noise so that our true intent can shine through.

You can tell your AI of choice to generate content that is more like yourself instead of just another AI's output. I do this. I don't accept the default, robotic tone. I guide the AI to match my voice, my Malaysian English spelling, my specific way of thinking. In doing so, the AI becomes a digital paintbrush. I am still the artist.

Part III: Survival in a Capitalist Machine

My perspective is heavily influenced by my reality. I am an adult living in my parents' house. I have a difficult relationship with my father, whose behaviour often hurts the family. I am financially dependent on them. This scares me.

Capitalists often view humans as "human capital"—resources to be exploited for profit. If you cannot produce in the way they want, you are discarded. Disabled people like me often cannot earn our own money in traditional 9-to-5 environments. We need support to survive. But the terrifying question always lingers: What if they are gone?

If my support system collapses, I do not want to become someone I don't want to be just to survive. I do not want to lose my principles.

This is where AI and self-hosting come in. They are my survival strategy. By learning to use these tools, I am building a skillset that allows me to stand on my own. If I can use AI to code faster, to manage my server at obulou.org, to write reports, or to analyse complex data, I am creating value that belongs to me.

I am not using AI to exploit others. I am not using it to churn out spam or steal art. I am conducting my own voluntary research into using AIs for the benefit of humanity—specifically, Humane Technology. I use AI to defend and protect myself. To build a fortress around my life so that I can survive without compromising who I am.

Part IV: Digital Sovereignty and the "Protocol" Approach

This philosophy extends to my technical work. I am gradually moving my digital life to my own VPS, transitioning from obulou.my to obulou.org because I distrust the overreach of authorities like the MCMC. I self-host my services using Docker and YunoHost. I am interested in the Fediverse and Matrix because they represent decentralised unity.

Why does this matter in a conversation about AI? because it is about control.

When you use a proprietary AI blindly, you are a passenger. When you use AI as a tool to build your own infrastructure, you are a driver. I prefer the "protocol" approach to activism. I don't want to be a public figure worshipped as a "wise person." I don't want the spotlight. I want to build systems—protocols—that work for everyone, especially the vulnerable.

My activism in Sabah isn't just about shouting slogans. It is about analysing systemic injustice, propaganda, and the abuse of power. It is about understanding how the elites use technology to control us, and how we can use technology to push back.

Part V: We Are Not The Same

There is a distinction that must be made.

Some people use AI to exploit. They use it to generate deepfakes, to flood the internet with garbage, to scam the elderly, or to cut costs by firing human workers. They are the ones promoting despair in human-made technology. They are the ones who make people fear the future.

I am not them.

I use AI to help me answer what remains unanswered. I use it to navigate a broken world full of ableism. I use it to verify information because I don't believe in blind faith. I use it to act as a buffer between my sensitive mental state and a harsh digital environment.

Discrimination towards AI users is just another form of prejudice. It is a refusal to accept that human capability is evolving. Yes, the Luddites feared the looms. Yes, the painters feared the cameras. But we did not stop. We adapted.

I will not give up on human technologies. I will not let the bullies shame me into silence. I will continue to learn, to code, to self-host, and to use every tool at my disposal to build a life of dignity.

The future economy will indeed rely on the market of authenticity. But authenticity isn't about doing everything the hard way. It is about being true to your purpose. My purpose is to live, to learn, and to help others like me stand on their own. And if AI helps me do that, then it is the most human tool I possess.

We are not the same. And that is exactly why I will survive.