One of the realities of being very identifiably blind, or visually impaired (which ever term floats your boat) is that I’m often thrust into the role of diplomat for the blind – whether I’m in the mood for it or not.
I use a long white cane, which is not terribly common for someone with albinism, but I’ve found it to be quite helpful for a lot of reasons.
There are some days when I’m really up to the task. I’m patient and kind and understanding and look on the public’s questions or misplaced actions as teachable moments. It’s a chance to educate.
And then there are days when frankly, I’m just not in the mood.
This week I’ve been feeling better than I’ve felt in months. But, fatigue is still an issue (as it will probably be for the rest of my life) and by Friday I’m really looking forward to the weekend. I used to look forward to weekends for all the stuff I’d get to do – like going out with friends or volunteering. Now, I look forward to weekends because it’s a chance to sleep!
Today was just one of those days where the do-gooders for the blind were just coming out of the woodwork – for the most part very nice, well-meaning, helpful people who just have all the misconceptions of blindness so common to the world and haven’t stopped to question the validity of those stereotypes and assumptions.
This morning I stood waiting for the bus, as I have every morning for more than a year now, and one of my neighbors suddenly decided this was a crisis. Heck, this morning it was 34 degrees. Two days ago it was only four degrees! This was a summer day!
She pulled into the car dealership (where I catch my bus at the corner) and very kindly offered me a ride because she felt it was too cold to be standing out. She was genuinely appalled that I’d been walking in this ice. That’s a sentiment I did appreciate. It hasn’t been fun. But, I didn’t accept her ride. (I might have on the morning when it was four degrees!) The bus would be there any minute and it just seemed silly to make her late for work and take her out of her way for something I do every day. I couldn’t help but wonder what she thinks I do on every other day of the year? She seemed hurt that I didn’t jump right into her car. I really did appreciate the thought! The timing was just off. In less than five minutes the bus was there.
But that wasn’t the first “blind moment” of the day.
I got on the bus and there was character sitting in my usual spot. He wasn’t one of the “regulars.”
He was a very tall black man wearing fatigues with long dreadlocks and the faint oder of B.O., as if perhaps he hadn’t had a shower in a while. His conversation with the bus driver was, shall we say, colorful. I sat on the other side from my usual spot. I always try to sit at the front of the bus because “characters” are common on the bus, and no one bugs you if you’re up front with the driver. That is, usually no one bugs you.
About half way on our journey the man’s attention suddenly turned to me. In fact, his whole attention turned to me. He asked what I was doing with “that stick.” I explained, and he promptly asserted that I was “faking” and probably running some sort of scam to defraud the government on disability payments. Whatever.
I’m employed and don’t even receive any sort of disability benefits (at least not now), but I really wasn’t about to discuss my employment, assets or pretty much anything else personal with this guy. I did, however, calmly explain why it is that some people who can see some might use a cane.
While he didn’t apologize, he did seem to accept the explanation as valid. He got up and moved to sit next to me – perhaps a little too close to next to me. I had that feeling that he was invading the invisible bubble around my space.
Next he told me about some woman he’d once dated who had a blind daughter. The daughter had committed suicide, “because being blind would be so depressing. She couldn’t do anything.” Groan! I said a little prayer, something along the lines of, God, why right now, and please grant me some patience because I’m not feeling it right now.
I answered that it was a very sad story, especially since blind people can pretty much do whatever they want (except maybe drive taxis) with the right training and alternative techniques. How sad and horrible that this young woman never got the chance to learn that. How tragic.
This is a sighted phenomenon not limited to probable homeless guys on the bus. Sighted people often feel compelled, upon meeting you, to tell you about any person they’ve ever known throughout their entire lives who was blind. I’m not sure why that is? An attempt at empathy? An attempt to find common ground? I don’t know.
He dug up another one from his past. He’d had an aunt that was blind but, “she could find her way around her house so well that people thought she was faking.” Lord, needing some of those patience…..
It was her house, I answered. Why wouldn’t she know her way around? Most people know the way around their own homes. It’s hardly a feat of amazement.
Why is it that if a blind person does a perfectly normal thing it’s suddenly amazing? And why is it that the moment you do anything someone perceives as being outside the venue of what blind people do, you’re suddenly faking? Uhhggg.
He proceeded to move closer into my personal space, putting his arm behind me on the seat and patting my hair. Okay – that’s about enough!
Being a regular on the bus, however, thankfully meant the other riders had my back! This was too much for them too! One of the guys that I know pretty well was sitting in the back, but upon the head patting, he shot to the front of the bus and told this guy he needed to leave me alone. The other riders all concurred and let this guy know they weren’t impressed. Hands off. He moved back to the other side and thankfully, we got to my stop. Monday the playback conversation on the bus should be interesting!
But that wasn’t the last blind moment of the day. This afternoon I was once again, waiting for the bus home. Two ladies did a U-turn upon seeing me standing there, rolled down their window, and wanted to know if I needed any help. Was I lost? Yep, a blind person standing on a street must automatically not know where she is or where she’s going. I told them I was waiting on a bus.
One of the ladies shot back, “Honey, you know you’re standing on ice.” Groan! Really? Gee, hadn’t noticed. Of course the entire sidewalk is a solid sheet of ice. It couldn’t be avoided – but why would they think that lack of vision would keep me from observing the world is slippery under my feet?
They pulled into my office parking lot, parked (never getting out) and sat there. I’m pretty sure they were waiting to make sure I got on the bus okay. It’s the sort of thing I know is “nice” and meant out of kindness, but geeesh – this stuff does get old.
I use a long white cane, which is not terribly common for someone with albinism, but I’ve found it to be quite helpful for a lot of reasons.
There are some days when I’m really up to the task. I’m patient and kind and understanding and look on the public’s questions or misplaced actions as teachable moments. It’s a chance to educate.
And then there are days when frankly, I’m just not in the mood.
This week I’ve been feeling better than I’ve felt in months. But, fatigue is still an issue (as it will probably be for the rest of my life) and by Friday I’m really looking forward to the weekend. I used to look forward to weekends for all the stuff I’d get to do – like going out with friends or volunteering. Now, I look forward to weekends because it’s a chance to sleep!
Today was just one of those days where the do-gooders for the blind were just coming out of the woodwork – for the most part very nice, well-meaning, helpful people who just have all the misconceptions of blindness so common to the world and haven’t stopped to question the validity of those stereotypes and assumptions.
This morning I stood waiting for the bus, as I have every morning for more than a year now, and one of my neighbors suddenly decided this was a crisis. Heck, this morning it was 34 degrees. Two days ago it was only four degrees! This was a summer day!
She pulled into the car dealership (where I catch my bus at the corner) and very kindly offered me a ride because she felt it was too cold to be standing out. She was genuinely appalled that I’d been walking in this ice. That’s a sentiment I did appreciate. It hasn’t been fun. But, I didn’t accept her ride. (I might have on the morning when it was four degrees!) The bus would be there any minute and it just seemed silly to make her late for work and take her out of her way for something I do every day. I couldn’t help but wonder what she thinks I do on every other day of the year? She seemed hurt that I didn’t jump right into her car. I really did appreciate the thought! The timing was just off. In less than five minutes the bus was there.
But that wasn’t the first “blind moment” of the day.
I got on the bus and there was character sitting in my usual spot. He wasn’t one of the “regulars.”
He was a very tall black man wearing fatigues with long dreadlocks and the faint oder of B.O., as if perhaps he hadn’t had a shower in a while. His conversation with the bus driver was, shall we say, colorful. I sat on the other side from my usual spot. I always try to sit at the front of the bus because “characters” are common on the bus, and no one bugs you if you’re up front with the driver. That is, usually no one bugs you.
About half way on our journey the man’s attention suddenly turned to me. In fact, his whole attention turned to me. He asked what I was doing with “that stick.” I explained, and he promptly asserted that I was “faking” and probably running some sort of scam to defraud the government on disability payments. Whatever.
I’m employed and don’t even receive any sort of disability benefits (at least not now), but I really wasn’t about to discuss my employment, assets or pretty much anything else personal with this guy. I did, however, calmly explain why it is that some people who can see some might use a cane.
While he didn’t apologize, he did seem to accept the explanation as valid. He got up and moved to sit next to me – perhaps a little too close to next to me. I had that feeling that he was invading the invisible bubble around my space.
Next he told me about some woman he’d once dated who had a blind daughter. The daughter had committed suicide, “because being blind would be so depressing. She couldn’t do anything.” Groan! I said a little prayer, something along the lines of, God, why right now, and please grant me some patience because I’m not feeling it right now.
I answered that it was a very sad story, especially since blind people can pretty much do whatever they want (except maybe drive taxis) with the right training and alternative techniques. How sad and horrible that this young woman never got the chance to learn that. How tragic.
This is a sighted phenomenon not limited to probable homeless guys on the bus. Sighted people often feel compelled, upon meeting you, to tell you about any person they’ve ever known throughout their entire lives who was blind. I’m not sure why that is? An attempt at empathy? An attempt to find common ground? I don’t know.
He dug up another one from his past. He’d had an aunt that was blind but, “she could find her way around her house so well that people thought she was faking.” Lord, needing some of those patience…..
It was her house, I answered. Why wouldn’t she know her way around? Most people know the way around their own homes. It’s hardly a feat of amazement.
Why is it that if a blind person does a perfectly normal thing it’s suddenly amazing? And why is it that the moment you do anything someone perceives as being outside the venue of what blind people do, you’re suddenly faking? Uhhggg.
He proceeded to move closer into my personal space, putting his arm behind me on the seat and patting my hair. Okay – that’s about enough!
Being a regular on the bus, however, thankfully meant the other riders had my back! This was too much for them too! One of the guys that I know pretty well was sitting in the back, but upon the head patting, he shot to the front of the bus and told this guy he needed to leave me alone. The other riders all concurred and let this guy know they weren’t impressed. Hands off. He moved back to the other side and thankfully, we got to my stop. Monday the playback conversation on the bus should be interesting!
But that wasn’t the last blind moment of the day. This afternoon I was once again, waiting for the bus home. Two ladies did a U-turn upon seeing me standing there, rolled down their window, and wanted to know if I needed any help. Was I lost? Yep, a blind person standing on a street must automatically not know where she is or where she’s going. I told them I was waiting on a bus.
One of the ladies shot back, “Honey, you know you’re standing on ice.” Groan! Really? Gee, hadn’t noticed. Of course the entire sidewalk is a solid sheet of ice. It couldn’t be avoided – but why would they think that lack of vision would keep me from observing the world is slippery under my feet?
They pulled into my office parking lot, parked (never getting out) and sat there. I’m pretty sure they were waiting to make sure I got on the bus okay. It’s the sort of thing I know is “nice” and meant out of kindness, but geeesh – this stuff does get old.
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