Sex workers weren't breaking the NDIS. But they did provide something we all need

It all came after NDIS Minister Bill Shorten announced he'd be banning funding for sexual supports under the National Disability Insurance Scheme.

Cue the sensationalist headlines about sex workers ballooning the cost of the NDIS, putting the scheme at risk.

Of course what those stories failed to tell you is that approximately 130 disabled people on a scheme of 650,000 people or just 0.02 per cent of participants have funding for sexual supports. Not exactly money that's going to save the NDIS.

What the startling headlines also missed is if you talk to someone who uses or delivers these services, their focus is less on sex and more on healthy human connection.

For people who can't move their arms or legs or leave the bed, caring touch is rare. These services offer basic human connection that is part of a whole fulfilled life.

But while this national debate has been swirling, I've been travelling to places people with disability work to talk to them about other kinds of supports - and while their responses have been completely different, there is a connection with the debate this week.

My work this week is part of research - the Disability Discovery Project, which is mapping out where government should invest in disability supports, where supports are working and where there are gaps.

I can tell you from our research so far, people with disability are the experts. They are telling us exactly what disability supports work, where supports are missing and what supports would make a huge difference to local communities.

From shower chairs to mobility-aide libraries and hydrotherapy memberships, people with disability are identifying what they need to get by and live their lives.

Not one person has brought up sexual supports.

As I sat in my wheelchair on warehouse floors interviewing disabled workers about the types of supports that would make their lives better, I lost track of how many times someone wanted a person to walk with them along the beach or how many young guys wanted a friend to take them to the footy on the weekend.

You see, the number one response was a request for a connection of a different kind - community connection.

Overwhelmingly, people with disability have been telling me they want more access to their communities from going shopping to help getting to a local sporting game to someone who can take them to see a movie - people with disability want human connection with the people around them.

Sadly, just connecting with their fellow human being is currently way too hard for disabled people. There are structural barriers - lack of transport and inaccessible venues, but also attitudinal barriers - people still expecting less and excluding people with disability from their everyday lives.

Too many people with disability I spoke to remain isolated in their own homes, relegated to segregated work and seemingly stuck in a routine where they rarely interact with people outside their small network of family and every day colleagues - all who have a disability.

This is not out of choice - they tell me how they want to work for the big supermarkets, so they can talk to people.

They tell me how they want to go to the local cafes so they can make new friends. They tell me how much they care about other people and want to learn more.

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But this is not expected of them. They have never been shown how to do these things and they tell me nobody wants them anyway.

I don't know about you, but I want them. So, what are we going to do to change the status quo? Continue to fixate as a nation on those seeking physical connection or worry more about the majority looking for social connection?

As a country, I reckon we can help the 0.02 per cent and 99.98 per cent at the same time. We're denying a whole fulfilled life if we don't at least give it a shot.