"Here, Honey, Let Me Tie Your Shoe for You"

Ok, first of all, this specific example has never happened to me, largely because I double-knot. That, however, is not a foolproof defense against the occurrence so…it might happen to me. Pick your jaws up off the floor about three seconds after I say this; a not-insignificant percentage of blind or visually impaired adults have had sighted people walk up to them and bend down to tie the blind person’s shoe for them…without asking, without waiting to be asked. They just walk up and say “hey, I’m going to retie your shoe for you, honey.” They do this to adults of all ages, as well as other really embarrassing, patronizing sorts of things like using “baby voices” and over-helping and jumping in to do totally simple tasks. This happens to people with other disabilities, too, of course, but since I’m blind we’re going to go with the blind person perspective. Right what you know, write?

The shoe-tying thing hasn’t happened to me, personally, but I’ve had my share ‘f dearies” and “here, let me find that in your bag for you” and “it’s so great that you can get out with the rest of us sometimes, sweetie!” – that one happened while leaving the opera, no joke. I’ve also heard dozens of similar stories from my fellow blindies – wait, there’s got to be a better word for that.

Oh yeah, there is! VIP, Visually Impaired Person. It’s been so long since I blogged regularly I forgot my own lingo. But that’s not my point, and I do have a point.

Blind people sometimes find they’ve acquired a reputation for being irritable and easily offended when people offer to help them. Sighted folks – I am not calling you “sighties,” that’s just stupid – this is because people have a habit of doing really humiliating things to/for us in the name of kindness, and by the time you’re offering to hold a door, guide someone across a street, or something else equally kind-hearted and generous, we’ve got an accumulated frustration with people’s well-meaning but truly humiliating insults and obstacles to our independence. Please don’t take it personally, you’re the most recent in a long line of mixedly effective random acts of kindness. We’re simply tired of being treated like five-year-olds who need help cutting pancakes and using the potty. No, that one hasn’t happened to me, either; that’s someone else’s story, but I swear it’s true. Just remember that when you offer to help a blind person we may interpret your gesture through a different context, or randomly turn out to be super awesome martial artists, psychics, sages, cursed for irritating a Greek god, or some other stereotypical fictional character.

Wait, what?

Now, to address my fellow VIPs. Yes, you, I’m making eye contact with you, can’t you see that?

Get over yourselves. Seriously.

I’m guessing there’s not a single person alive on this planet who routinely thinks “how can I insult a blind guy when I see one?” or “how can I embarrass him, or further the centuries’ old belief that disabled people are physically helpless?” Seriously, people, nobody is trying to humiliate you when they offer to tie your shoe or show you to an empty seat on the bus (take advantage of that last one, crowded buses are annoying, and using your cane for balance could totally put out an eye – someone else’s, that actually works). These instances, as awkward and humiliating and often unhelpful as they are, are almost entirely born of a genuine desire to be helpful to someone in need. It’s what’s called a random act of kindness. Most people, myself included, and probably you, too, because I totally speak for all blind people, wish there were more of these selfless acts in the world, so why on earth are you fussing about someone trying to be nice to you? Seriously!

That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t speak up when it happens. In many cases, I suggest just grin and bear it and laugh about it alter. But in some cases, the gesture itself might actually be more harmful than helpful, and, of course, you do often represent that person and any witnesses’ first interaction with a VIP, so a little education might be in order. But for heaven’s sake, be gracious about it! Be kind, be firm, be honest. “Thanks, but I’ve got this.” “Actually, that’s not very helpful, but thanks for trying to help anyway, I really appreciate it.” Instead of whining and yelling about wanting everyone to see you as an independent, mature adult, act like one. Throwing a hissy fit makes me, and other VIPs, look bad, and makes everyone else a lot less willing to offer help when we might actually need it – like finding a seat on a crowded bus, or determining if a busy intersection is safe to cross, or finding the darned credit card scanner at the cash register (as if I don’t’ have enough reasons to hate shopping already!).

Morals of this story:

1)                Sighted folks, thanks, think your actions through, and don’t take the negative reaction personally.

2)                VIPs, be gracious; let it go or educate, but do both in such a way that reflects well on yourself and other VIPs.

“Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one.” – Marcus Aurelius