Fear of Blindness
Fear of Blindness
The Braille Monitor_______November
1997
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Seville Allen
Reflecting on Fear
of Blindness
by Seville Allen
From the Editor: Seville Allen is
First Vice President of the National Federation of the Blind of Virginia. She
is also a member of the governing body of St. George's Episcopal Church in Arlington.
Like other blind people she works constantly to teach those around her that
she is not so different from them. Sometimes the job seems too big, too demanding.
Then something encouraging happens, and suddenly there is reason to continue
the effort. The following story first appeared in the Spring, 1997, edition
of the NFB Vigilant, a publication of the NFB of Virginia. Here it is:
It was almost noon on Saturday at the
vestry retreat. The morning meeting was breaking up, and we were about to move
down the hill for lunch. My usual anxiety began to rise as I contemplated yet
another social situation in which I find myself feeling isolated and awkward
as people divide into dyads and small knots, often moving away from me as I
approach to join them. As I put my slate and stylus into my purse and closed
my notebook, one of my fellow vestry members came and said, "Seville, I
want to go to lunch with you because I need to talk to you."
Pleasantly surprised, I answered, "Certainly."
What followed was one of the most honest and positive experiences I have ever
had in dealing with blindness. The young man who asked me to go to lunch with
him had just joined the vestry. I knew him by name and reputation as an excellent
youth leader, but we had not spoken before.
As we left the building to walk down
the hill to the cafeteria, I explained that I could take his arm as we talked
or walk beside him. He offered his arm, I took it, and we started down the hill
as the snow fell on our heads. We had only walked a few steps when the young
man announced that he wanted to talk to me because he was afraid of me as a
blind person. "Seeing you frightens me because I would be helpless if I
couldn't see." I was shocked at his honesty, paused for a few seconds to
gather my thoughts, and then answered that I was not surprised to learn how
he felt, but surprised that he was so up front and honest about it.
As we continued our walk to the retreat
center cafeteria, we discussed his fear and the realities of not seeing. When
I explained to him that, most important, blindness has nothing to do with darkness--the
thing he feared the most--he began to relax. I explained that blindness means
the lack of eyesight, nothing more, nothing less, and that darkness must be
seen to be experienced. I also told him that, if he were to lose his vision,
he would be frightened, depressed, and probably angry. I assured him that would
be a very normal reaction. I explained that he would need time to learn how
to function as a blind person and that this learning would take several months
in a good rehabilitation center. Using our Federation philosophy, I explained
that we have come to understand blindness as a characteristic which is often
inconvenient but not a tragedy.
By the time we reached the cafeteria,
we had moved on to other subjects, such as the lunch menu, and I explained how
he and I would navigate the food line, carry our trays, and reach the table
to join our colleagues.
I share this delightful experience because
I hope it may provide you, as it did me, a reminder that, as we are changing
what it means to be blind, the change takes place slowly and will be accomplished
through incidents such as this one.
Unfortunately, my conversation with our
new young vestry member was an exception to our usual fatiguing treatment as
helpless children, unaware of where we are or what we are doing, and from the
social isolation caused by neighbors and colleagues who avoid us because they
are afraid to talk to a blind person. This positive, honest interaction certainly
has renewed my desire to continue the much-needed education that we must effect
as we journey on our road to full equality.
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