Blind people need God...or to be less pretty

“Excuse me young lady! Can I just say, your glasses are exquisite!”

“Well, thank you very much, I quite enjoy them, too!” (They are a very fun and bright shade of teal.)

“They make the blue of your eyes really pop, it is quite beautiful!”

“Well, thank you very much!” I said again, unsure of how else to respond to a compliment from a man older than my father.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

I sensed the elephant-in-the-world that is my cane was about to be acknowledged.

“What is that?” he pointed.

Okay. There have been worse questions.

“This is my cane,” I recited. “I use it because I am visually impaired and I don’t want to walk into people in town.”

A look of profound sadness crossed my complimenter’s face. “But you have such pretty eyes!”

Impatience touched at the edges of my mind, the way it always does when strangers feel entitled to lament my life to my face. “Well, thank you, but sadly the appearance of my iris has nothing to do with the function of my optic nerve.” I forced myself to laugh it off with no small amount of sarcasm.

“But you’re so young!” Again with the sadness. Would you also be sad if I had a bad haircut, or had a broken arm?

“Well, yes,” I sighed. “I am about half of your age, but again, my age has very little to do with the functioning of my optic nerve.” I gave The Complimenter a little more background as to when I had lost my sight.

This was not received with much enthusiasm. Instead, the conversation stepped sideways. “You are dressed very nicely. I love the coordination of your coat and scarf. Did someone help you with that?”

I explained that I was capable of seeing colour and pattern myself and that I very much dressed myself. As I did everything in my life. Myself.

Again, my words didn’t seem to have much influence. “Can I pray for you?”

I politely declined. At this stage, I felt that it wouldn’t be amiss to give two, I think, very good reasons:

1. I am not religious and therefore feel it would be insulting to both parties.
   
2. I can’t think of a possible reason why I would need to be prayed for based on the information he had acquired today.

“Okay,” The Complimenter seemed to acknowledge. “But if you were to let me pray for you, it would go something like this: ….”

I was unable to contain my hostility at this point. I glared. As with much of my input up until now, it went unnoticed - which is quite impressive, as I have it on good authority that my eyeballs are extremely expressive.

“It is such a shame that a girl as young, pretty and confident as you should bear this burden…” The prayer went on to inform me of how God could work miracles and save me from this burden.

I stopped him. Why, I asked, was it particularly important to that I was young pretty and confident in this interpretation of my situation? Would it be ok for me to be going blind if I fitted his definition of ugly a little better?

“Because these are good things in your life that will be affected by this”

I stayed quiet.

You can probably imagine that I was really rather angry at this point, and on top of that, I was confused and frustrated as to why I should be expected to tolerate such ignorance and rudeness simply because I’m VI. And the milkshake shop was closing soon and I really wanted a milkshake. The conversation was just going to have to end, and I would have to accept my failure to educate this particular individual.

Before I could interrupt, a tirade of last-minute well-meant abuse was launched my way.

I was told that I must try to appreciate myself, and my uniqueness (I do). Although I might feel lonely (I don’t) and like I don’t have an impact in this world (I’m a rocket scientist, actually), I should keep going because God put me here for a reason and I do make a difference in this world (I know, and it’s because of my own hard work, not some divine being’s will).

And that is what I must hold on to, I learnt. Stories about starfish and quotes from the bible illustrated this grand tale of enlightenment.

I said thank you and left.

I was cross, and upset, and I wanted to cry a little bit…

…This stupid conversation had dragged on and now the milkshake shop was closed.