by Gary Wunder
Perhaps it is just me, but I recently observed several points of tension when it comes to the message we want to send about blind people through the National Federation of the Blind. Two issues come to mind, and I hope to be able to spark discussion on both as a result of this article.
The first issue deals with the question of when we think it is acceptable to recognize something that a blind person is doing and when that crosses the line to become so-called “inspiration porn.” When most of us listen to the news, we often find ourselves brought down. Whether it is the stories of war, school shootings, gang violence, or drug overdoses, we don't usually find a lot to cheer about in the headlines. Is it any surprise, then, that we look for things that are good and positive, things that will motivate us, things that will show us that the world is more than it appears to be?
I know that when I hear all of the bad in the news, I look for the story of inspiration, the story of odds overcome, the story of the Golden Rule prevailing over selfishness and greed. I think this tendency for inspiration is also true for our publications, which range from the Braille Monitor to the literature we use for public education. Where is the line drawn between inspiration porn and something being newsworthy because it doesn’t happen every day? More to the point, how will the blind people whom we have not yet reached learn of the possibilities they might aim for if these stories are not told?
Forty-five years ago we got television coverage because we marched in the American Royal Parade in Kansas City, Missouri. What were we doing? In the words of the man who was then our state president, we were demonstrating exceedingly bad judgment by exposing our wingtip shoes to the same street that one minute ago had been trod by horses. Certainly we were not demonstrating our best in independent travel by simply following the crowd, but the event made the news because the public was surprised that blind people would leave our homes and participate actively in a major community event.
Not only did we get footage during the parade—something almost every participant got—but we got way more time on camera, much more glowing commentary, and even made the six and ten o’clock news. Inspiration porn? We didn’t think so. We were, rightly or wrongly, quite proud; we were raising the expectations for blind people and hoping that our small march would make life better for ourselves and others.
Our website, our convention, and our Braille Monitor are filled by examples of blind people doing things that we and others have considered noteworthy. Is it amazing that Brian Buhrow goes to work every morning, brings home a good salary, goes to concerts of his choosing, and takes one or more major vacations each year where he explores everything he can get his hands on? With the right kind of promotion, I bet I could get that into almost any newspaper in the country and could certainly do so in the local ones. Is he amazing? When I listen to the plumbing and electrical work he does around his home, hear his descriptions of the way digital equipment works, observe how much he is able to detect when feeling things I never think to put my hands on, I would say yes, my friend is amazing. Was Dick Edlund amazing for running his own hardware store, closing it to become a civil rights worker for the blind, and later becoming a member of the Kansas State Legislature? I would label him amazing. When James Omvig left high school and spent the next seven years of his life in near seclusion but turned all of that around when he met Kenneth Jernigan and the Iowa Commission for the Blind, was Jim amazing? Was Kenneth Jernigan amazing when he moved from poor farm boy with little opportunity to become the leading civil rights figure for the blind in the twentieth century? Is the country that made such a rehabilitation process possible amazing? Perhaps I’ve set the bar too low, but my answer to all of these is yes.
The second issue is public education. When I joined and for quite a long time thereafter, we saw it as one of our core missions to educate the public. Never did we underestimate the mammoth job we were undertaking, but we considered it as both an obligation and a privilege to take on this task. Certainly we have all had times when we admitted that we didn’t feel like educating, when we didn’t do all that we might have, and even times when we were rude or dismissive because the day had been too long and too hard. But only recently have I begun to hear a very different proposition that seems to go something like this: members of the public are ignorant, mostly because they choose to be, and it isn’t my responsibility to set them straight. If they want to know more about blindness, let them go to the library or to the internet. I’m tired of hearing about how amazed they are that I can go to an airport, catch a plane, visit a new city, go to a hotel I’ve never stayed at before, and manage to pull down a salary for the productive work I do that requires all of this. If they don’t give a second thought to the fact that they can do it, why do they bother to make such a fuss over me? And why, in the name of good sense, should I be bothered with their never-ending chatter and amazement?
To many of these questions my only answer is that there is a lot to learn about the world and the diverse people who make it go round. Sometimes our lack of information or our ignorance is intentional. We’ve already made up our mind, and we don’t want it to be more complicated than it already is. We are comfortable with the stereotype that elevates us above others, that makes us believe that everything good that happens to us was a matter of making the right choice and, in keeping with that, everything that happens that is sad or unfortunate was, at its root, a matter of bad choices. That kind of ignorance gets us off the hook. But most people who are ignorant—or to be gentler about it, those who lack information—aren’t even aware that they don’t know. When they realize they don’t know, they want to learn. If in ignorance they have held the belief that turns out not to be true, it may take more persuasion than we like to convince them that they should change.
I think the question we have to ask ourselves is quite simple: If not us, who? Whether we want or accept the task every minute of every day, to whom would we entrust the responsibility of educating people about blind folks? Yes, I am tired of the repetitious questions about other senses that are heightened, my strong sense of empathy for others, my ability to see through the obstacles sight offers and to be the visionary who sees the real person inside. I’m tired of having to constantly make the case for accessibility, but to whom do I wish to entrust this job?
As members of the National Federation of the Blind, we carry the unique responsibility to educate the public. While this task is sometimes daunting, it remains a crucial part of advocating for and representing blind people accurately and respectfully. It is a part of raising expectations, and just because it can sometimes be repetitious and time-consuming is no reason to avoid the challenge and the opportunity it presents. Isn’t it a major tenet of our philosophy that we are the people who should speak for blind people as a matter of principle, and don’t we generally believe that we know more about blindness than others who would presume to speak for us? Is carrying this load an unwanted burden, or is it part of getting what we have demanded all along? We have demanded the right to speak for ourselves as the people most qualified to do so, and to take responsibility for explaining to the public what it means to be blind and what those of us who are blind can do as caring, giving, and competent human beings. Is carrying this load an unwanted burden for part of getting what we have demanded all along: the right to speak for ourselves as the people most qualified to do so and to take responsibility for explaining to the public what it means to be blind and what those of us who are blind can do as caring, giving and competent human beings? I suggest that among ourselves we growl a bit from time to time but that we never lose track of how many have tried to speak for us and how hard fought has been our struggle to be recognized as the experts on what it is to live Blindfully.