How to Really See a Blind Person

Maybe sighted people are (naturally) too focused on looks, but maybe it takes a better man than most of us are not to judge by appearances.

In the UK there used to be a radio program - it might still be on, for all I know - called "Does He Take Sugar?" Think about it: how often a blind person is treated as deaf and dumb, too, totally helpless, to the point that a normal question about coffee or tea has to referred to a companion! Much of Mr. Snyder's commentary could refer also to people with other handicaps.

Designers of public spaces in the US could learn a lot by studying the extensive accommodations made in Hong Kong for the blind. So could those who set standards and those who fund infrastructure.

Wow you forget sometimes in your day to day life what others have to face. A reminder not to sweat the small stuff but to embrace what we may have in common. Brad is an articulate writer and we thank him for his service and continued contributions.

I’m not invalidating your experience — only you know what you feel as you move through the world — but I take issue with much of what you have written. Sighted people are often excluded in conversations, too. I am around skiers, surfers, mountain climbers and long distance runners who talk about their sports endlessly. I don’t participate in any of those things — I don’t have the physical capacity — but I can listen and congratulate them for accomplishing what they have. I listen to wealthy friends and acquaintances describe extravagant travel experiences that I can not afford. Should they stay quiet just because that is not part of my world? If friends talk about a tv series, movie or book that is unfamiliar to me, I ask questions about it. That’s called conversation. If you really feel so excluded by the GOT talk, why read or listen to the book? What I’m saying is it is not up to the world to make you feel accepted. It’s up to you to gather others in. I have always given verbal direction to any blind person I see casting around for orientation. In one case, that person was stuck in the middle of a traffic-filled boulevard, and was confused by a left-turn cutout on a median. Completely befuddled and panicked. In another, I saw a man searching frantically with his cane for the subway turnstile, in an otherwise empty station, at night. A few words and he was back on track. I see blind people as I see all humans. I don’t need instructions.

I used to work in retail and I was occasionally chastised by coworkers for asking customers personal questions. But in every case, the customer had broadly hinted or outright told me part of their story. And in every single case, once I asked them about their lives, they told me their stories and their grief's and their loves and losses and we were both the better for the sharing. I would tell the complaining coworkers, if someone hints at you they want to talk about something important to them, and you have a few minutes, ASK THEM, they will amaze you with their lives. I'd talk to you in an airport Bradley. I'd talk your ears off.

I am a sighted person; my BFF is blind. For years as business partners, we mostly spent time on the phone. I loved him, but didn’t know how to behave in person. Where should I look, since I could not look him in the eye? I felt clumsy, afraid of doing the wrong thing. Then one night, we were out with friends and one of them simply asked him if she could read him the menu, or serve him something at the table he could not see. That’s when I realized that to break through my clumsiness, I need only ask him if he needed help. He is clearly capable of saying yes or no. Now, we go to theatre, share movies (at my house where I love providing audio description), and just hang out. I’ve learned a lot about what it’s like to be blind in NY. How he keeps his good nature, I do not know. We’ve had to educate taxi drivers who try to scoot away when they spy his guide dog. One day I went to see him and his face was black and blue: the City had installed iron tree wells all down his block and no one had told him. I gave him a full description so he could be aware of where they are. I live in Chelsea, where many blind people live. If I see a blind person having difficulty navigating, I simply ask if I can help. I love to do this, because it gives me the chance to meet someone new. I also feel very capable by now and deep in my heart, I hope someone is looking out for my friend on his busy midtown street.

Your article is brilliant, and transcends blindness.

"I feel the looks of my fellow passengers, wondering what my story is, but too afraid to ask for fear of saying the wrong thing and offending me. I feel helpless, stared at like some sort of freak." How does he know everybody is staring at him if he's blind..?

Hey HBO, provide descriptive audio for a Game of Thrones and your other popular shows! And you, too, Showtime, Netflix, Hulu, and Amazon if you do not do so already. Thank you in advance.

Just today, because I am making flan for an Oscars party from her recipe, I was reminded of a fellow MSW student at NYU who was blind. (I am sighted) Maria was also married with children and of a Spanish descent which accounted for her fabulous flan -- an altogether bright and capable gal, whose ability to navigate our school curriculum and NYC amazed me! Ah, human sharing is one of life's deepest pleasures...

My dad, a small town attorney, lost his vision suddenly in his mid-40's. This was 1972 and there were no disability rights, no advocates, no technology, and no protections. He continued to work until he died with the help of my mother, trusted friends, and family members. I remember him asking, as his youngest child grew, "Is she as pretty as people say?"; remarking, "I can almost feel people cringe after they shout, 'Look at that!'; and finding ways to have his hands busy -- usually lighting a cigar -- when a new client came into his office for the first time, so he could avoid the awkwardness of a handshake. What he loved best is what the author has described here: a good, honest, hearty conversation. Now, some 25+ years after his death, old friends of mine still remember those conversations: he was the only adult who really listened. ...and it may be a cliche, but thank you for being willing to serve and continuing to serve our nation.

The most beautiful and truest line in the whole article was: "I realized that I'm not alone in being alone." So true and so necessary for people to realize. Thank you.

my sister is blind and when I am with her, people will talk to me as if she wasn't there. I thought that was the problem you would relate. I am an artist and can describe to you a sunrise in details and possibly help you remember its beauty. But don't ask me about "Game of Thrones", I don't watch it either. My life is full of enriching activities both physical and intellectual, but I also use a crutch and will never again do what defined my younger self: hike. People are kind, they smile and open doors for me. I know they are watching out for you the minute they see that white cane, I know I do. Thank you for you service.

I have a good friend who is blind. She has been since birth. I met her at a conference and volunteered to be her guide as she learned the area. As I helped her learn the conference grounds, she taught me a lot about what she could do. I was tremendously impressed and continue to be. As you say, all it takes is a conversation.

I live in Manhattan near a school for the blind. It's a busy section of town and I'm always amazed at the dexterity and independence displayed by the blind managing the streets. Some with dogs and canes. Some with canes. In all kinds of weather and in the midst of construction obstacle course. I love the diversity. However, I have found a reluctance to join me in a conversation I may start waiting for a light or in line at a store. Sometimes my pesky senior dogs will be attracted to their working dogs and want to sniff but we are asked to stay away. And most importantly, the times I have reached out to stop someone from walking into a big puddle of water or explain a diverting construction barrier, I'm met with a scowl. How do we break through and get to know our neighbors?

Brad, thank you very much for your essay. I do not have a physical disability, but my best (and only) friend and constant companion is Carlos, my American Staffordshire Terrier.

I'm sorry Brad lost his vision in an American military activity and am delighted his life is so fulfilling and productive. After committing to a career helping disabled Americans with a Masters Degree in Rehabilitation Counseling in my native state of Ohio, I took a position in career counseling in San Francisco in 1970. Some of my clients were disabled veterans from Letterman Army Hospital, most of whom were amputees missing arms and legs from land mines in Vietnam. Unemployment among disabled Americans can run as high as 80% since most employers are reluctant to hire disabled employees. Thirty years later I retired to France as an expatriate American after feeling discouraged by the lack of support by government for the disabled including the mentally ill. Most mental health services have been curtailed by both state and federal programs as conservative politicians have felt less sympathy for the needs of the severely disabled. My best advice and request of the non disabled community is to not pass up a chance to support your disabled neighbors where the opportunity presents itself. Speak and behave in a matter of fact manner just as you would a friend and don't hesitate to offer assistance in a general way. The worst thing you can do is act as if the disabled are not there and ignore their presence as a result of your own discomfort!

Brad, thank you for this sharing of your experience. I became acquainted with a colleague recently who is blind. We share many of the same interests in the kind of work that we do, and yet he must approach what he does far differently than I do. Our relationship has been helping me to understand quite a lot of what I tended to take for granted about his blindness. There is no doubt that I am growing in my appreciation for the many ways that his condition has open my eyes to things about me and others of which I had been blind. I definitely feel that he is helping me to grow as a person (at age 75) in ways I had never imagined.

Everyday I read the NYT for thoughtful analysis and insights into the world's complexities. But today your column brought me to what is still more difficult to find: conversation from the interiors of our lives, often beginning casually in unexpected ways. "Through talking we find our humanity." As age closes in on me, it's wisdom like this that matters more than opinions. Joy comes from resting in the goodness of your words and those of your fellow passenger. "It all starts with a conversation." There are no limits to how far it might go.

Thank you for this article! Your words are so helpful for me as I have 2 friends who are blind from MS and they are truly light in my life. I struggle and admittedly stumble many times with my own "guilt" when I am with them. They are so loving with me, and I'm the one who needs their help to be the friend they so deserve.

I appreciate your essay. You ask for our story: mine is similar to thousands (possibly millions) of chronic pain patients. There is very little - almost nothing - for pain relief. We can't work and often can’t get disability; we can’t really have friends because it’s impossible to make any plans, and anyway we can barely leave the house except for essential errands, we can’t talk about our pain because it is either too private and/or people don’t like hearing about it; we can’t enjoy anything because it is impossible to experience pleasure while one is being tortured; and now, for those people who got some relief from opioids, they are being denied or have to make do with much less of the one thing that helped them have some kind of life. If you don’t believe in physician assisted suicide for ALL who want it, if you don’t think people should have access to opioids, please try to imagine being in debilitating pain 24/7: Is that really difficult to do? Why deny help to people who want relief from endless pain? Few people can manage and afford to get to Switzerland where they are compassionate enough to help people leave a life of torment - the rest of us have to take the chance of a botched suicide attempt or hope something else will kill us before natural old age does. That’s my story, but more sadly, the story of many, many others.

Thank you, Brad for sharing - your experience has helped me - we are all people, no matter what - sharing our challenges helps all of us to be stronger, better people. When I was in the UAE in January - I discovered - the UAE does not use the words - Senior or Disabled - instead they use the words: 'Determined People'. So, instead of standing in line for - Seniors or Disabled - the people in UAE, from all over the world - stand in lines for - 'Determined People'. How wonderfully empowering the term - 'Determined People' is - I have never liked the words Senior or Disabled - they denote a failing, an ending, a limitation -individual isolating mentality. Whereas - 'Determined People' - is empowering, open-ended - anything is possible - creative - collective mentality - Really wish the USA would let go of the words: Senior and Disabled - and - being using - 'Determined People' instead - because, I believe everyone would be happy & proud to stand in this line.

My husband has a service dog. She has been the bridge to alot of great conversations strangers who share their own difficulties being human and alive. And he has learned so much from those interactions. Everyone has something that makes them feel alone and vulnerable and that's an important lesson we all need to learn.

Brad, As an overweight divorced woman with a teenaged son, my experience with blindness is that it took a blind person to perceive me. My recently deceased husband of twenty years was partially blinded by the oxygen in his incubator (in 1946), and became totally blind at 13. He was also an attorney, a karate black belt, and an international traveller before I met him. During our marriage, I shared with him many of the same routine exclusions that you experience, and one other; the assumption that his companion must be his paid or state-provided helper, and not his wife. The temptation to withdraw is always there. Thank you for not giving in.

So many “conversations” these days aren’t really conversations. People talk about themselves at/to another person but rarely ask people questions about themselves. If we would stop focusing on the “me” and concentrated on creating a “we”, even for a few minutes, life would be so much more inclusive. And we wouldn’t be wondering about why we are all so lonely. Good luck to you, Sir, and thank you for this essay.

My dad 's blindness affected me throughout my youth and to this day. While imaginable, neither his life nor mine as his "eyes" was ever normal in the sense that most people accept that word. He faced his disability, also aquired as an adult, with a stoicism I have never marshalled, but one which I know exists. I respect your determination and will respect it with every lap I turn.

Brad, thank you for sharing your story. I read every word of it. It provides me with perspective for the next time I encounter a fellow human being who I’m not sure how to have a conversation with, whether that’s because of a disability like blindness, or anything else. Also, thank you for your service to our country and for the tremendous sacrifice you have made for it, the magnitude of which most of us can never fully grasp.

I want to thank you for sharing this story. The isolation that people with disabilities can feel seems to not be discussed. As a person with a progressive deafness, I observe as my social interaction shrinks in pace with my hearing loss. Disabilities can be remarkably isolating and moving from a place where you once could... but no longer can, seems to be a challenge for even the most successful of us. Starting the discussion is wonderful. Encouraging others to "just ask" is how that discussion can start. Still I recognize that no matter how many people we engage, our lives are always going to be on some level isolating. Our experiences are always going to be different. I continue to believe that difference is interesting and experience has value. Those who do know us, know this. I value each person that understands the power that diversity, including disability, brings to the world.

Brad, Your tactile watch may soon expand to size of smartphones for tactile video alternative sight. Your way with eloquent words should make manufacturers leave off the display materials you don't need. Thanks for your Service and story. jjstapleton

Well, Brad I wish you well in your journey. I wish you many conversations, many connections. Your story is eye-opening, which is a rich irony, because some of us who are sighted have been the ones who are blind. Thank you for your honesty, your candor. I hope I have the courage to find the bridges, to look for watches. May you continue to earn your fallen conrades’ admiration, and thank you for your sacrifice.

Brad: Realize that those considering approaching you have their own uncertainties as to how; as well, as you've discovered, their own versions of feeling "isolated." Take advantage of your dog. See this article from yesterday about how dogs attract people and overcome the common reservations to approach someone. https://www.nytimes.com/2018/02/27/well/family/dog-date-men-women-love-d...®ion=bottom-well&WT.nav=bottom-well. I was with a blind friend at a college campus a couple of nights ago, waiting the start of a lecture, and the number of women passing by who felt compelled to play with the dog, and the smiles from those at a distance, as well as from a few men, were incredible. They just wanted to know if it was OK to pet the dog, and hearing "Yes," the conversation flowed--to my detriment as I was trying to read something. Making up for that, it was the first time I felt "popular" on a college campus, even if the source was from being a member of a furry-led entourage. A nice win: win as the dog didn't seem to mind either.

I love where this essay ended up because I was reading finding echoes of my own experiences as I went. No, I am not blind or disabled, but I am getting old. That means that I am sometimes treated as if my marbles are scarce or I am more physically frail than I actually am. I get called "dear" or "sweetie" in a different patronizing way than was true 20 years ago. That said, I am no longer 20 or 30. My arthritic back hurts when I have to stand too long, so it helps to have some place to sit or at least lean. Still, it is a structural problem, not a global sign that I can't navigate the world like an independent adult. I also appreciate the insight into your experience. I too have been hesitant to ask a person who is blind or disabled about their experience, especially if they seem to be capably dealing with their situation. I'd be happy to help; I do, in fact, offer help to blind folks if they crossing a street or seem uncertain. Still, it is hard to know of this particular blind/disabled person will react positively or be offended if help is offered.