One thing I find interesting about blindness and low vision is how much of the experience involves other people trying to figure out what you can see. Sometimes they get it right, sometimes they get it spectacularly wrong, and sometimes everybody ends up a little confused.
A friend of mine who has low vision once told me about how some of her sighted friends reacted when they were first getting used to her vision loss. They knew her before her vision changed, so they were used to her seeing things a certain way. When that changed, they were trying to work out what she could still see. Their solution sometimes involved pointing at things with almost theatrical determination.
“Can you see that?”
“No.”
A little more pointing.
“Can you see it now?”
The object hadn’t moved. Her eyesight hadn’t suddenly improved, but apparently the pointing had entered a second phase and everyone was hoping for a breakthrough.
It’s easy to understand why someone might do this. When a person you know starts losing their vision, you don’t immediately know how much they can see or what has become difficult. You want to help without making a big deal out of the change, and you may keep asking questions because you’re still getting used to the idea that something your friend once saw easily is no longer visible in the same way.
At some point, though, you have to believe the answer. If someone says they can’t see something, pointing at it more enthusiastically certainly won’t make it appear.
Interestingly, people with low vision can be just as strange about admitting what they can’t see.
I recently came across a video where a woman was talking about some of the things people with low vision sometimes do, including pretending to see print they can’t actually read. That one felt painfully familiar. Someone hands you something with writing on it, you look at it and know perfectly well that the words aren’t going to reveal themselves no matter how hard you stare. Still, when someone asks, “Can you read that?” you might hesitate before admitting that you can’t.
Maybe you don’t want to ask for help. Maybe you’ve already asked for help several times that day and would rather figure this one out yourself. Maybe you’re used to doing things independently and don’t want anyone thinking you can’t manage. So you bring the print closer, move it farther away, tilt it towards the light and give it another determined look.
Eventually, you might say, “Yeah, I can see it.”
Truth is, you can’t, and now you’ve created a problem entirely of your own making.
Following people can be the same way. Someone with low vision might have just enough sight to keep track of a shape or movement ahead. Someone asks whether they can see the person they’re following, and the answer comes out as yes even though that person has become little more than a blur. Asking for help can feel unnecessary when you think you can probably manage, right up until the person disappears around a corner.
That little bit of pretending can be funny when you recognise it in yourself, but it also says something about independence. Nobody wants every limitation pointed out to them. Sometimes saying “I can’t see that” feels bigger than it really is, so you try one more time before admitting defeat.
Sighted people have their own version of this uncertainty. They may know that someone has low vision or is blind, but still have trouble understanding what that means from one situation to the next. Someone may be able to read a large sign but not a menu, recognise a person across a room but struggle in poor lighting, or manage a familiar route independently while needing help somewhere new.
That can make things awkward for everyone. A sighted person might hesitate to offer help because they don’t want to assume someone needs it. Another might go too far in the other direction and jump in before help has been requested. Most of the time, people simply don’t know what the other person needs.
A simple question can clear up a lot of that uncertainty. If you’re not sure whether someone can see something, ask. If you think they might need help, offer it. If they say no, take their answer seriously. If they say yes, let them tell you what kind of help would actually be useful.
The same goes for the blind or low vision person. If you genuinely can’t see something, asking for help doesn’t cancel out your independence. Sometimes the independent thing to do is recognise when something isn’t working and find another way to get it done. There’s no prize for spending ten minutes trying to read three words on a sign when someone could have read them to you in five seconds.
Of course, some of the things sighted people do around blind and low vision people have nothing to do with vision itself. People sometimes speak louder than necessary, talk to the person accompanying a blind person instead of the blind person, grab someone’s arm without warning or give directions by pointing and saying, “It’s over there.”
That last one is particularly impressive because “over there” only works when both people can see where “there” is.
Then there’s the strange fear of ordinary words. Some sighted people become so conscious of a blind person’s vision that they start avoiding words such as “see” and “look,” as though saying them might cause some sort of social disaster. Blind people use those words all the time. We’re not going to fall out with you because you said, “I’ll see you later.”
Most of these situations get easier once both sides stop assuming and start communicating. The sighted person doesn’t have to guess what a blind or low vision person can see, and the blind or low vision person doesn’t have to prove that they can manage everything without help.
People with vision loss are learning how to live in a world built around sight, while the people around them are learning how to understand a change they may never personally experience. Both sides will have awkward moments. A friend may point at something three times because she’s still adjusting. A low vision person may insist she can read something that might as well be written in another language. Someone may offer help at exactly the wrong moment, while someone else may be too embarrassed to ask for it when they really need it.
Most of us are just figuring it out as we go.
Maybe that’s all we really need to do. Ask questions instead of making assumptions, say what you need instead of expecting someone else to guess, and listen when the other person answers. Give people room to learn without turning every awkward moment into a disaster.
And if someone tells you they can’t see something, believe them the first time.
Especially if you’ve already pointed at it twice.
This column is supplied in conjunction with the T&T Blind Welfare Association
Headquarters: 118 Duke Street, Port of Spain, Trinidad
Email: ttbwa1914@gmail.com
Phone: (868) 624-4675
WhatsApp: (868) 395-3086
