Living the Life She Wants: Staying Grounded and Shooting for the Moon with Federation Philosophy

by Deena Lambert

From the Editor: This stellar presentation was given on Saturday, July 9, 2022, at the convention of the National Federation of the Blind in New Orleans. Here is the way President Riccobono introduced it:

Introduction by Mark Riccobono: We have a member who has been building a career at NASA and also in her own life. She and I came into the Federation at a similar time, so it's been a joy to observe her journey and her strength in applying the Federation philosophy. She is truly an example of what thousands of blind people do in this movement on a daily basis. Here from Maryland to talk to us about her journey is Deena Lambert.

A few months back President Riccobono reached out to me and said, "Hey, are you interested in sharing part of your story?" I was like, "Who, me? What part of the story do you want me to share—the part where I have more gray hairs than I had three years ago? Or that story about my girls on New Year's Eve with a few mimosas in us decorating our vision boards, but failing to include a whole pandemic where we would be stretched and tested beyond our wildest dreams and fears? Or the part that says I would have to dig down deep in my soul for all the courage I would need to pursue my dreams of working in the aerospace industry and becoming a mom, even if it meant there was failure and that I would be walking much of that journey alone?" He said, "Yes, all of it."

Twenty years ago almost to the day, I introduced myself at the 2002 Louisville Convention as an NFB scholarship finalist. I was excited, I was nervous, I was hopeful because I saw and heard so many things at that convention! I met businessmen and women, engineers, parents, and students. I went to the parties—all of the parties! Some of us are just waking up now from those parties! Basically, I experienced a microcosm of our society as a whole. Everyone was there.
As someone who is twenty years older, with a few more gray hairs and hopefully some wisdom to share, I'd like to take a few moments with you to have a conversation. Mark said talking to you would be like talking to family.

There's a saying: "Teach the young early what we have learned late." I hope that some of you will gain something that is helpful and challenging, but that will feel real, which is a part of my story. Even though I am the one standing here before you with this honor, hundreds, even thousands of our Federation family members are in the room and in our affiliates who can share wisdom and insight. That wisdom could positively shift the trajectory in your life as an individual toward living out the version of your life that you deeply desire, even if you haven't realized it yet. Two and a half years of living in a pandemic have forced us to shorten our time horizon, meaning that we have to place more urgency on the decisions and actions we take.

I can only imagine what the original NFB founders and leaders faced when they formed this organization that would provide strength, unity, and community to blind people who were fighting just for the right simply to live and attain self-determination. I grew up in a home where there was absolutely no doubt that my mom and dad loved me deeply. But as a young adult, I realized a sense of urgency to finding that sense of confidence to pursue my dreams and make my own decisions. It wasn't just about going to college and picking a degree. It was something more basic, like choosing what I wanted to wear or doing my own hair as a sixteen-year-old. It was even about choosing to use a white cane without my mama's disapproval and fear or shame about what she would say. Building that confidence did not come from just one instance. It took understanding that, while I would survive and likely even earn a degree, I might not seize that gift of freedom and self-agency that you can observe in so many people here. I would likely end up living a life where others would make decisions for me.

Then I attended a voc rehab transitions seminar in Arkansas and met a ragtag bunch of staff from the Louisiana Center for the Blind (LCB). I was shook! A few weeks later, Joanne Wilson, with all of her gusto, helped me navigate a conversation with my parents that led to me attending LCB. That simple phone call was the Federation in motion. The core values of the NFB leaders were fully alive in that conversation and in subsequent conversations during my brief time at LCB.
When you get that feeling in your gut that says there is more for you, don't wait! Don’t second-guess yourself! Do not short-change yourself or the process of training.

You may have noticed that I said I was a student at LCB for a short period of time. I left LCB after only eight weeks of training to go off to college. Later I realized that I had indeed short-changed the training and mentorship I needed. Even though attending a training center is not the only way to gain confidence and independence, there is something about the process and the method, the positive philosophy about blindness in Structured Discovery that is potent and well-measured.

I went off to college as an electrical engineering student at the University of Arkansas. My head was full of knowledge but short on wisdom. For example, a few blind freshmen—we had our own little crew—found that the laundry facilities were not fully accessible. When we raised this issue to university leadership, the university offered for the university's housekeeping staff to do our laundry for us! Now, to the seventeen-year-old version of me, that seemed like a victory! But even my short time at LCB helped me identify the ugly, sinking feeling that this was perpetuating lower expectations of the blind, and that it needed to stop. I share this story with a bit of embarrassment—I haven't told it to anyone before.

We presented a tangible example of the power that can be wielded by a collection of blind people. But wisdom would have said, "Are you for real? Are you kidding me?" We had won the battle of making the university do something, anything. But we were well on our way to losing the war on misconceptions and poor beliefs about the capabilities of the blind.

What impression did that one housekeeping staff member have when she had to deliver multiple loads of laundry to the blind students? Maybe she would share with her family what she had to do to help the blind students. It wasn't right.

I did eventually learn to do my own laundry, and I went on to complete my degree. After graduation I encountered rejection after rejection when I applied for jobs. I had to shift gears and get creative. I started attending regional and national conferences of organizations such as the Society of Black Engineers, Microsoft, and others. I got assistance from voc rehab and a small grant from my university, and I used my own personal funds from work-study jobs. This was called self-investment. I broadened my mentor base, not only with academic advisors but with experienced professionals from my Greek organization, Delta Sigma Theta Incorporated, and my frat, Alpha Phi Alpha. I drew upon my local community of sighted and blind leaders who I could learn from.

Finally, almost a year after graduation, I received the call I had dreamed of. It was NASA calling!
Fast forward to today. I am now the DEIA (Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, and Accessibility) lead for NASA'S early-stage innovations and partnerships. It's a functional leadership position within a $350-million-dollar portfolio. We are tasked with identifying, promoting, and advancing the transformational space technology that helps NASA achieve its on-Earth and long-duration missions. We are the widest and lowest entry point into NASA’s space technology readiness level, or TRL. With over seven hundred funding opportunities, we are the most outward-facing technical component NASA has, with funding vehicles that reach small businesses, researchers, citizens, and students.

Fifteen years ago, probably more, I remember hearing hesitations as to why the NFB was funding and moving out on the Blind Driver Challenge. At the time it did seem a little farfetched. But, as I review proposals and engage in topic-specific technology research opportunities outside of blindness, I realize that what the NFB has been doing is the first step toward radical innovation. We may not see all of the rewards and benefits right now. However, I am confident that we will see them in the near future with spinoff technology and techniques that we will advance with more innovation.

Right now I want to make you aware of a pilot program that we just started, targeting students, entrepreneurs, and researchers who have an idea and need some support to bring it to market. It's our Innovation Corps or I-Corps Pilot. We will provide ten thousand dollars to applicants coming in. We'll offer technical assistance in order to accelerate your idea, and we'll help you build the network you need to move on toward larger funding tiers, possibly to the tune of four hundred thousand dollars! I would like to see more people in this room and people on the scholarship winner list as applicants for our funding opportunities.

I want to close with a personal experience. Many of you may remember that I wanted to be a mom. After much thought, prayer, and skepticism, I landed on one question. Would I be happy with how I lived my life and the decisions that I made if I did not pursue this dream? With the support of my chosen community and my family within the NFB, I asked, "Can I choose to say yes to this life I want?"

This question was specific to my choice to become a single mom, but it has applications elsewhere. For you in the audience this question may hit home in other ways, whether it is about employment, education, relationships. Many people outside the adoption community, which is where I chose to pursue motherhood, may not know that in private adoption the expectant mom who is voluntarily choosing to place her child is offered an opportunity to choose the family she wants. The sixteen-year-old me would have said, "Why would she choose me? I am blind." The version of myself at that time didn't have many blindness or independence skills. Why would any expectant mom choose me for one of the biggest and most permanent decisions in her life? But the thirty-seven-year-old me was bold enough to say, "Why not?"

I've observed in myself over and over again, and sometimes in the blind community at large, that we can easily talk ourselves out of opportunities and choices. It happens when we listen to the lingering voices of doubts and misconceptions. I dare each of us to say, "Why not me?" and have the actions and decisions that reflect that energy. "Why not me?"

Let me go back to that ripple effect I mentioned earlier. Indeed, it came back full circle. To be approved to become an adoptive mom, I had to pass a home study test with a licensed social worker. Let's call it the white glove test. It covers all—and I mean all!—areas of your life. My fear of rejection drove me to sign up for courses that were above and beyond my agency's requirements for prospective families. After one frantic call the social worker said, "Deena, please stop! For one, you're causing too much paperwork. These courses are way too expensive. I know that you are quite capable of being a well-rounded and safe mother." After she completed her report (of course, she couldn't tell me what she was thinking while she was writing it), I said, "How did you know?" She shared that she had observed multiple blind people raising families, managing classrooms, and going about their lives with dignity, respectability, and grace. That was enough for her. So if you are one of those blind people she observed, I want to say thank you!

I leave you with the charge to feel empowered, knowing that you have influence in positively shifting not only your life as a blind person but the lives of others whose names you may never even know. Thank you so much!