My title is ironic, you may say - the blind cannot see, so how on earth can we see what they see, when they see nothing, unless we see nothing? So if there is nothing to see... then my title just... doesn't make any sense?
If irony is something that crossed your mind while you read my title, thank you for putting thought into it. I experienced something profound today. So profound that I want to share it with you.
I had the fortune to visit Dialogue in the Dark in the dark with my colleagues today, and am forever grateful for the experience. Dialogue in the Dark (DiD) is an organisation set up at a local Polytechnic where people of the world get to experience what it is like to be a blind person for 1 hour. Participants are briefed on how to use a guide walking-stick, and are taken through a journey with a visually impaired guide. The experience really is beyond words. At the same that I feel that not writing about this would really serve as an injustice, writing about my experience will also not do the experience justice. You will really need to go there and live it for yourself.
I've learned about blind people and how they may perceive things differently from sight-seeing people through my university psychology courses, where I learned how blind people perceive things differently cognitively. What my university education could not show (or teach) me was what the experience really is like.
The room was dark. Really dark. No matter where we are in our living environment - in the deepest forest, far away from the city - our eyes will adjust to the darkness, because there is some light. That does not happen in DiD. Your eyes do not adjust. You will not be able to see a thing, no matter how close you hold your hand to your face, you just cannot see it. It was, incredible. For one whole hour, I couldn't see a thing. If I hadn't gone to DiD, I wouldn't have experienced this, because no one will purposely put themselves in a pitch-black environment. Your other senses are heightened - your sense of sound, touch, taste, smell - to a point where you feel overwhelmed. We were on a boat, and the boat motor was so persistent and I was so aware of it that I couldn't tune it out! It was really... irritating because I had such difficulty isolating the noise, I couldn't hear other sounds: the voice of my guide.
Speaking of guide - that was the other thing that was extremely ironic. We were in the dark, and we were guided and led by a visually impaired individual. I had another revelation. A deeply troubling, and disturbing revelation about mankind. About humans, people, us - myself. Bear with me while I set the context: We were led into the 'exploration room' (for lack of better words) by a sight-seeing guide from the 'light' (as they referred to it) and were introduced to our visually impaired guide in the dark. During the short 1 hour, we had come to rely on our guide immensely. She would tell us "come toward my voice" and reassure us by putting our hand on the wall throughout the tour. Without her instruction, we were at a standstill. Now that I think about it, none of us dared wander anywhere without explicit instruction to do so.
In the dark, our visually impaired guide was our light. Without her, we were lost, scared, vulnerable. Then, she led us into the light - and we saw her (the way sight-seeing people perceive things) for the first time in an hour. Who she really is. And it struck me. The uglyness. the pain. the deep, dark troubling truth of how humans really are. I hate to say this, but I judged her, based on how she looked. Her eyes were sealed shut (from when she was born), her arms were not placed exactly the same way that ours are. When it was dark, I'd never thought of how she looked. I just thought of her as our guide. Someone who led the way. Now that we were in the light, I saw her as different. Worse, differently disabled. And, I hated that I had that perception. We sight-seeing people are so judgmental of other people based purely on how they look. We are so superficial. One of my colleagues mentioned that in the dark, our guide had all the power - she took the reins, she led us. But with just the introduction of something so tiny, light, our perception of her changed instantaneously.
I took the tour more than 5 hours ago, and I still can't get over how the change - the fact that I could see - affected how I viewed her SO DRASTICALLY. It is unbelievable. Strikingly unbelievable. I really think that this knowledge is profound. Is prejudice something that comes so naturally for us? That we judge on sight? Would the world be a better place if we all could not see, and cannot judge based on our sight? Sigh. My cynical id is telling me that even if we were all blind, we would still judge based on other things we can 'judge' people by. Maybe being prejudicial and judgmental is just human. Can I live with that? Maybe I will have to.
I think for me, this experience was so profound because I learned something about myself. About how I judge. Instantaneously. Unconsciously. Ruthlessly.
I don't want to end on such a negative tone, because I also did gain other things from this experience. Besides learning about the ugly side to being human, I also learned how heavily they rely on their other senses, and just because they cannot see does not make them any less capable than us sight-seeing people. I have mad respect (mind the slang) for my tour guide, Lily. I was always amazed at how she knew where we were, prompted us when to turn at the right moments. Our first sight-seeing guide prompted us to keep close and follow the wall and turn this way and that... but we soon learned that she was wearing night-vison goggles. It never occurred to me how my guide did that... Later, during our dialogue in the dark (yes, we actually sat down for tea/cookies in the dark cafe and had a chat with our guide in the darkness!) we found that Lily was close to blind when she was born. She had a retinal disease and when her doctors put her under the incubator without protecting her eyes, they literally burned her retina off! She takes this is such good stride that she told us with a chuckle! Even if she wore night-vison goggles, she still wouldn't be able to see...
So how did she manage to know where we were spatially? She would say "Close the gap, Madeleine" and "Close the gap, Charis". She would remember who was leading the group (we walked around single-file most of the time - because we were to scared to venture out on our own?) and would prompt the person to keep moving along or stop. The most stunning feat was that she was able to tell who needed help, and would approach the person and physically lead their hand to what we were looking for. I was curious, so I asked her how she did it. And she told us, from our voice, our footsteps... and that she could just 'sense' us. It's incredible.
I feel terrible that we sight-seeing people judge other people we consider 'disabled' so harshly... whether we intend to or not. Because if we are in their place, we would struggle.
So next time you see a blind person, don't be shy or turned off by what you see. Remind yourself that it's natural that you judge because we are sight-seeing people. Put on a smile, approach them and ask them if they need any help. And if they would, put their left hand on your right elbow, and lead them away!
Thank you Lily for this enriching, enlightening and life-changing experience. It's going to be a battle to not judge, but I will fight with my neurons and try.
And if you're read til this line - you definitely deserve to go to Dialogue in the Dark. Treat yourself to a life-changing experience.
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