Tuesday, 6 December 2016

Blind people have feelings too... (what not to say to a blind person)


People offend other people a little bit every day. It is impossible for us to know everything that is going on in someone’s life and how they might be feeling in any particular moment, so it’s inevitable. It doesn’t make us bad people or insensitive souls.  All we can do is choose our words and tone as carefully as we can in the hope we don’t hit a nerve. It is, of course, considerably easier when we know the other person well: then we know which questions are too personal, where sensitivities are, and which jokes are appropriate.

When confronted with disabled individuals, these everyday social navigations can feel like a minefield for a lot of people. And that can be embarrassing. The messages we get from society on how to treat disabled people are mixed: do you go out of your way to be helpful to them in any possible manner or do you pretend you don’t notice a difference? Is there a middle ground? What is it?

There is no definitive list of things that people should refrain from saying to a blind person. But there are a few Dos and Don’ts that I, as a blind person, have learnt from my conversations with sighted people (I’ve had a fair few) that might be of interest to you.  Of course, to complicate matters further, this list will vary between individuals and I’m sure there are visually impaired people who will completely disagree with some of the things I say here - that’s life! All I can do is tell you that I, personally, prefer it when sighted people:

- Do not patronise me. I can’t tell you how many times I have been told to go to the opticians, get glasses, or asked if there is some kind of cure I’ve been ignoring for years. I do understand why people say these things. I’ve just told them something they consider to be awful; they feel helpless so automatically switch to “advice and options” mode. It makes them feel better. But I’d rather they stopped and took a second to realise that I am intelligent enough to have considered all of these things before I bought the cane.

-Do not expect me to be different.  Yes, I am a normal person, with a life, family, relationships and hobbies. Don’t get super-overly-excited for my normality. Yours and my lives are basically the same; I probably just turn my head more, depend on my hearing more, have cooler hobbies (if i do say so myself), and a fun white accessory.

-Do not pity me. I don’t have sympathy for myself when there’s actually something wrong, so why are you pitying me on what is a distinctly average day in my life? Whilst sympathy is very much encouraged when someone appears sad or emotional, I rarely appear these things, especially when talking about my eyesight. In fact, I usually smile excessively as a sympathy deterrent! It’s not necessary. I, like many people that have lived with their blindness for a while, have come to terms with my sight loss and accepted it as a part of who I am.

To look at it another way: sympathy is used to let people know that it’s okay to not be completely satisfied in your current situation. There are a few reasons why I dislike receiving sympathy in my current situation:
1. I did a lot of hardwork to get to this stage of being comfortable with who I am. Your un-invited sympathy encourages the idea that there’s something wrong with me and I shouldn’t be okay with myself. Whilst I know it’s well meant, it can sometimes do damage, too.
2. I don’t accept emotional support from strangers generally, regardless of the situation.
3. It doesn’t matter how pretty or young or otherwise healthy you think I am, it doesn’t make it any more or less of a shame that I can’t see the same way you can. I get this comment a lot, actually, and it’s so frustrating. If anything, it just makes the commenter seem shallow.

-Do not make assumptions about me. Just because I am blind does not mean:
  • I wish I wasn’t (a lot of us are perfectly comfortable with our eyeball function).
  • I am incapable (please trust my judgement on whether I require assistance).
  • I am unhappy or lonely (cue: the hundreds of street preachers that launch at me like an easy kill).
  • My standards for a partner are lower (maybe I care a little less about the aesthetics, but the fact you’ve commented on this possibility means you’re probably not my type).

-Do not make me out as a hero. “I don’t know how you do it! I wouldn’t cope half as well as you do! You’re so brave!” Nope, I’m just your everyday, ordinary 20-something dealing with blindness as I’m sure you are dealing with something, too. Please don’t make out my life to be so much harder than yours; it puts me on some awkward pedestal that isn’t necessary. Everyone has difficulties in their lives, it’s not a competition.  

-Do not give me a sight test.  Seriously. Don’t. I’ve had more than you probably will in your lifetime.

-Do not make me a game (not even if you’re my brother and I’m forced to deal with your ridiculousness). His favourite party game is to see how close he can get a finger to my eyeball before I notice. Aside from this actually being quite dangerous (I could turn my head and impale my eye), it’s an invasion of my personal space and, quite frankly, utterly annoying.

-Do ignore my cane. At least long enough to ask me my name.

-Do ask about my sight.  It’s not something I’m ashamed of and I’ll give you the information I think you need or deserve (based on the level of trust between us). Plus, I’d much rather you ask, than stare awkwardly at my iris, dislocate your neck trying to avoid looking at my cane, or feign ignorance of the topic altogether.

-Do feel free to find my impairment interesting. I do. It allows me to view the world in a unique way (literally and metaphorically). When getting to know me, you will undoubtedly be introduced to my impairment and learn how it has woven its way into the fibres of my life; influencing much of what I do and how i think. But….Don’t forget to find the rest of me interesting, too. I am more than just how i see.

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