What do you think of when you think of Vegas? Casinos. And what do you picture when you think of casinos? Lights. Bright lights. Bright lights and nearly naked people (women, let’s be honest). This is a city that especially relies on the sense of sight. Then again point me in the direction of any destination that doesn’t. Isn’t that why we say “seeing the sights” when we refer to travel?
The Federation for the Blind National Convention was organized at this resort. The Mandalay Bay is an expanse of dimly lit corridors, restaurants that keep weird hours and impossible navigation. To get to the convention rooms from the hotel rooms one has to go up and down escalators, use elevators with cards to each floor and sometimes the cards don’t work and if the elevator passes your room on the way up, too late, you have to wait ’til you get to the lobby and try again. I have found this place incredibly chaotic and I nearly see 20/20.
Why am I here, you might ask? My dear friend of four years is partially blind and she works for a program for the blind in San Francisco. She invited me to come stay with her at the Mandalay Bay because she got a hotel room at the resort for her work. As I live in Tucson and am only taking an online class in the month of July, I have the flexibility to travel! Believe me as I say that I am pinching pennies like a champion and my friend Amber is sharing her meal per diem with me. I feel like the luckiest gal, really. Not to mention that I got to meet her seeing eye dog, Della, after three years of anticipation.
At dinner on our first night, the hostess sat us down with one print menu and the other in brail. They didn’t ask “Would you like a brail menu?” and Amber reads print. I send Amber texts all day long. And she got her Masters online. She is partially blind. But she tried to read the menu in brail for fun as I checked her answers from the print menu. She got some of them right! And the wait staff kept putting her water right in front of her and announcing loudly HERE IS YOUR WATER. Amber said: “Okay that’s okay thank you.” When they brought out the food, the waiter took her hand and placed it on the plate and said: HERE IS YOUR FOOD. I could feel my blood pressure rise hoping this wouldn’t escalate further.
When we made it back to our hotel floor after getting lost, we heard the voice of a man in a thick accent. He had his cain but was thoroughly lost and Amber, without skipping a beat, led him with her voice to the elevators and pressed the appropriate button. Then she used her voice to guide him to the last elevator which had opened up.
It’s my second full day here and I feel like the Grinch whose heart is two sizes too small. I’ve never been in a place, much less a resort in Las Vegas, with this many blind people. (Ahem probando sonido I realize that I am saying blind person instead of person who is blind and I am using the language that my friend uses and she works in this industry and is also blind). There are canes everywhere I turn and canes that have rolling tips, canes that fold up, canes that have flat ends and I even saw a cane with bling (I liked it). There is tapping and waving and direction-asking and confusion and frustration and service dogs getting tangled and running into each other. I feel like every time I leave the room I’m on an obstacle course. I’ve also noticed people who are holding their phones close to their faces and tapping at their screens (the screens of course are black so I haven’t been able to understand what the function of this is). I wonder if it is a program for the blind.
Navigating has been frustrating, annoying and weird. And I am feeling my limitation to love and understand very intensely. I am flunking out at empathy.
And then I remember that empathy is a muscle, not a limb. I have to learn how to flex and stretch it. That’s probably why almost every person I’ve ever met is empathetic about some things and not others, and why is that? Because people are usually empathetic about what they’ve lived and struggled through. Our muscles know what it’s like to feel a similar loss. And ultimately, scolding myself for my small-mindedness is not going to help. Yes I’m ashamed, so I am working through it here.
SO with that self-indulgent true confession, here is what I am learning:
Many people have gone to pet Della, Amber’s seeing eye dog, while she is harnessed. Why is this inappropriate? It’s not because you mean ill by your gesture but if the dog is harnessed, it is working, and it can’t very well support its owner if it’s all excited about the attention you’re giving it. In fact, these dogs are trained not to respond to this type of attention or notice other dogs while they are harnessed. So while you may want to pet a dog in a harness, the best case scenario is to always ask first. And even better, don’t pet it. You might think: “That’s obvious, I know that.” But… people do it all the time. After all, there are lots of non-service animals in the world you can pet.
This morning I walked into the conference room on a session on Empowerment. I had to find Amber to borrow her credit card (ridiculous, I know). I heard a voice of a young person saying: “You know I consider my cane like a third arm. It’s a part of my body. I use it to get around. So when people grab it and pull me with my cane…” and I heard the room erupt in “yes!” and “oh I hate that!” and I felt for everyone in there. How annoying. How ridiculous. I felt shame even though I’ve never grabbed a cane and tugged someone along. I could see how some people might think that would be helping. He continued: “And when people grab me by the hips or shoulders and lead me around” and the room erupted again. “I hate when they do that…” And then I really wanted to shrink into myself. That seems even more natural for a seeing person to do: touch someone on the shoulder, take them by the elbow or lead them along. And I heard the facilitator say: “Yes I know how frustrating that is, personally. And while it’s frustrating to feel like you have to go about your day educating people, that is the healthiest approach you can take. If you can look at these moments as opportunities to educate someone then you can walk away with a more positive outcome.”
Hell, part pf my job in Peace Corps was to explain where I was from and what I was doing there. But every single day I got frustrated by the ignorance of people asking me questions just for being different. And I signed up for that knowing it would be my job. I wasn’t born with a disability I couldn’t choose or change, that was my choice and it was temporary.
But I imagined what it would be like to be touched, all day long, and in response to a verbal question where touch wasn’t extended: “Where is the conference room?” produces a physical response every time instead of simply a voice. That must be really annoying day after day of being touched without being asked. We don’t touch others that way. And what’s worse than being touched is being handled. Just because you haven’t moved a blind person around without their consent doesn’t mean other people don’t do it everyday and think they’re helping somehow.
As a person who does not have a physical disability, I would like to share what I have learned and will be taking away from this experience: one does not need to touch someone to give them directions or instructions. One should not grab someone’s cane. One can still be partially blind and see some things, have a seeing eye dog and have a disability. It’s not appropriate for one to say: “Oh she can read? So she’s not actually blind.” Blindness is a spectrum and vision is a very complex sense. Oh, and as much as one might want to, don’t pet dogs in harnesses. As Amber says: “She is working.”
https://www.nfb.org/get-involved/national-convention/agenda
