Standing, a Different Perspective

Standing, a Different Perspective

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The Braille Monitor – October 2000 Edition

Standing, a Different Perspective
by Stephen O. Benson

Stephen Benson

From the Editor: Steve

Benson, a National Federation of the Blind Board Member and President of the

NFB of Illinois, has been recording some of the adventures he has had over the

years as a resident of one of the largest cities in the country. Here is another

one:

In 1976 the Urban Mass

Transit Administration (UMTA) implemented regulations that required public transit

systems to put in place priority seating and appropriate signage for the elderly

and disabled. Immediately upon installation of the required signage by the Chicago

Transit Authority (CTA), blind people in this city began to encounter bus drivers,

train station agents, and passengers who insisted that blind people sit in the

priority seats. No provision in either law or regulation required blind people

to occupy priority seats, but we were often berated, verbally abused, and humiliated

because we chose to sit where we pleased. The problem here was, and still is,

that too many members of our society, sighted and blind alike, believe that

blind people don't possess the same physical capacity as sighted people and

that it is necessarily more dangerous for a blind person to stand on a bus or

train than for a sighted person to do so.

Shortly after my mother's

eightieth birthday in the summer of 1983, she and I boarded a CTA bus on our

way to a business appointment. My mother boarded in front of me, paid her fare,

and sat just behind the driver. I boarded, white cane in hand, paid my fare,

and stood in front of her, holding the overhead grab rail. Since we were traveling

during a peak period, the bus carried a standing load. Once I set my feet, I

was ready for the customary sways, dips, jolts, bounces, jostles, pushes, and

bumps typical of urban bus travel.

All at once I became aware

that an elderly woman sitting next to my mother was saying in most unfriendly

tones: "You have to get up and give him that seat; he's blind."

My mother shot back: "I

know he's blind; he's my son. I'm eighty years old; he's not going to make me

stand."

The other woman was persistent:

"The sign says you have to stand for the handicapped."

At that point I brought the gathering storm to an abrupt halt. I said: "Madam,
my mother will stay where she is, and I will stay where I am. Thank you for
your concern."

Less than a year later

my wife and I traveled home together from work on a very crowded subway train.

We stood side by side at the end of the car. A woman tapped my wife's arm and

said: "Does he want to sit down?"

My wife replied: "He can't

see, but his legs work fine." We both thought it was amusing. The woman who

offered her seat was not at all amused, and I think she was annoyed that her

gesture was refused.

If I couldn't stand because

of some physical disability, infirmity, or advanced years, I might have appreciated

the kindness, but the offer was made solely because I was blind. It's the age-old

stereotype: if you're blind, you can't . . . . The truth is that I am like millions

of other men of my age and physical condition. I have often given up my seat

on a bus or train for people who are very old, ill, using crutches or a support

cane, pregnant, or more tired than I. I don't recall ever giving up my seat

solely because a person was blind.

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