Tag Archives: VoiceOver

I hate being blind when…..

I usually don’t have an issue with being blind. In fact, I have addressed all the perks about being blind
previously on the blog.

The Nigerian producer, singer and songwriter
Cobhams Asuquo
held a talk once about
The gift of blindness
And I don’t disagree with him. In fact, I share all his sentiments on blindness and sight. I think being blind has opened up a lot of opportunities for me and has forced me to work hard to achieve things I wouldn’t necessarily have strived for had I been able to see. I would even go as far as to say that I am a lot more independent than some sighted people because pride has made me find solutions to everyday problems that I perhaps wouldn’t have felt so bad at asking to get help with had I been able to see.

But we all have bad days or moments when everything just seems impossible. After all, we’re human. I hate being blind, or as a friend like to call it, extremely short sighted, in those moments, because I get reminded of physical limits I don’t think I should have. But it’s ok to be angry sometimes and acknowledge the difficulties, just as long as it doesn’t become a habit and you wallow in self-pity every day.

Be assured that the following list isn’t talking about things I face every day, or things that always make me feel bad when I do face them.

• I hate being blind when websites or pieces of technology I need to use right there and then doesn’t work with JAWS or voiceover and I need to get a sighted person to help me.
• I hate being blind when people talk to me as if I’m a mental retard.
• I hate being blind when religious nutters offer to pray for me. Indirectly they’re saying I’m not good enough for neither God nor humans the way I am and I need upgrading. At least that’s how I perceive it even though they probably just want what they think is best for me…
• I hate being blind when my normal routes are being dug up and I get lost because I don’t understand how to take another way around to get where I need to go.
• I hate being blind when my friends are posting photos on Facebook that I don’t understand, the content of not even from the comments section. I miss the old days when Facebook had more text. That isn’t to say I need everyone to always describe photos in-depth, or stop posting photos altogether in solidarity with me. And I do sometimes click like if I can discern what the photo might show. But I do feel a little excluded at times
• I hate being blind when confronted with Instagram or snapchat. Sighted friends tell me it’s no big deal and that I’m not missing out. Wrong. I am, because it’s a world I can’t take part in. at least not on an equal footing with the sighted.
• I hate being blind when I can’t see my own music videos and album covers.
• I hate being blind when the bank send me snail mail and have no option to send Braille mail.
• I hate being blind when I don’t have the mental energy to find the way to somewhere I’ve never been before by public transport or walking and end up taking a taxi.
• I hate being blind when I can’t assess my own makeup and oversee the work of new makeup artists.
• I hate being blind when I’m faced with bad attitudes that prevent me from getting hired for a job.
• I hate being blind because society is made for sighted, able bodied people. And if it had always been built with all kinds of censory and physical challenges in mind, then disabled people would arguably not have been disabled. Or at least a lot closer to being able bodied.

Of course, we can start eliminating disability by changing attitudes. That goes for both abled and disabled people. But that’s a topic for another post.

If I could suddenly see

Let’s imagine I woke up one day and I could suddenly see. 20 20 vision and I also knew how to see so I didn’t have to learn it.

Many people have asked me how I would spend my first day with sight. And this is what I would do.

First of all, I would enjoy putting on make-up. Seeing how different colour eye shadows and eye liners changed how I looked. Being creative with new combinations.

Make-up on along with a killer outfit I’d put together for the first time with sight, I’d walk out of my house and continue walking, enjoying the fact that my eyes would help me memorize the route along with my other four senses. I would look at shop windows and enjoy not having to wonder what shop was behind each door.

Then I would go in to a bookshop, browse the books and buy one I really wated to read. I would take it to a park with a nice bench where I’d sit down and read. Maybe I’d listen to music too, or maybe not. I would at least enjoy the fact that I was holding the book, turning the pages and that the book was a normal, regular print book.

Hungry after a few hours in the park, I’d go to a random café, scan the menu and order lunch. There, I would pick up a newspaper and read it. Enjoying too that this was print.

In the afternoon, I’d go cycling. And I’d go to a supermarket and browse the shelves, finding new products I didn’t know existed. And in the evening, I’d watch a movie or two, not needing audiodescription or explaining what happened.

I guess this is a pretty boring, average day. But for me, doing these things would be pretty cool as I can’t do them now. I rely on technology, audio and the internet to manage on a day to day basis. And though I’m not complaining about that, it would be cool and exciting not to need a phone to read a newspaper, or the internet to discover new supermarket products.

I would of course sign up for driving lessons pretty quick too.

One thing I would still do if I got sight though, is to keep using my other senses. My sensory world is in some ways more varied without sight I think, because I have to use so many other clues to work out my surroundings And with sight, I’d be a ninja woman.

And wouldn’t it just be nice to turn off the JAWS or the voiceover? I’d certainly love that. That way I could chat on what’s app while listening to music on my phone.

Stressful Street Navigation

On a request from a reader, this post will explain how a blind person moves about on the streets. I’ve decided to write it in a semi-fictional fashion, mainly because it will make a much more interesting read than a dry factual description. By semi-fictional, I mean that either I, or my blind friends experience, or have experienced these things whilst moving out an about. Thus they are true, but they are put within the context of a fictional story.

I had been clockwatching for the past hour. This meeting had really taken forever. I was sleepy and wanted to get out. I had a dinner appointment with an old friend whom I hadn’t seen in a long time in a fashionable tapas and cocktail bar only a 10 minute walk away. I wasn’t all too familiar with the route, but I kind of knew which direction to go in and it was a little too close to grab a taxi or get the bus or underground. Besides, the weather was lovely.

“So that’s all settled then,” said Ms Green, my uber boring and serious boss. “Everyone knows what they’re doing now, so I suggest you all get the project started ASAP and we’ll meet again next week to discuss the progress.” I looked at the watch again. I loved the fact that since I was blind and used a Braille watch, I could look at the time whenever I wanted simply by flicking open the lid and feeling the hands of the watch under the table. And nobody noticed that way. At least, I thought they didn’t.

I went over to my desk kicking a bin someone hadn’t bothered to move which made a terrible noise. “Crap,” I thought as May, our team assistant ran over to move the bin. “I’m so sorry,” she said in her loud squeaky voice. I cursed over helpful team assistants as well as open offices, picked up my handbag, unfolded my cane and walked over to the lift. While waiting for it to arrive, I checked my iPhone to see if anyone had called or texted, but VoiceOver only informed me that 2 people had liked my facebook status and that someone else had commented on the facebook status of a friend which I’d also commented on.

After two eternities, one waiting for the lift, and one waiting for it to descend from the 9th floor in which my office was, I was outside. I knew they had dug up my usual path from the door of the building and down to the turnstiles, but where they worked changed every day, so it would be exciting to see what would happen today accident wise. I prayed I wouldn’t step into red paint, something I’d done two days earlier, or tare my new dress on some other crap which was in my way. I was gonna have a good night out in a dress and heels and I wouldn’t have time to go home and change. But all that met me today was a temporary fence which wasn’t tall, but I reckoned I wasn’t supposed to climb it, so I walked to the left, cane in front as usual. “I wonder how the heck a normal person navigates this,” I thought as I discovered that left of the fence lead into the bushes, so I walked right. Only to discover that it was blocked by something tall. I stopped in front of the fence, listened to hear if anyone were around, and lifted my right, then left leg over, I realised immediately as I walked a couple of steps forward that I’d made a bad decision, because right in front of me was a steep step down. “You cool?” The voice came from right in front of me and startled me so much I involuntarily stepped down the step which was steeper than I realise and landed on uneven ground. “It’s tony,” said the person who was now standing next to me. “No!” I screamed inside. Tony was a guy from the office I, despite trying to deny it to myself, had a massive crush on. “Yeah, what’s up with this fence thing anyway?” I said fast. “It’s not easy. You should have taken another way from the office around the back. Want me to take you out?” Yes please,” I said and took the arm he offered me. “Did you stand there when I came?” “Yep, I watched you climb over the fence and nearly caught a glimpse of your underpants.” “Shut up!” I laughed. “I’m sure you are a woman with good taste,” he replied smoothly as we went out onto the street through the turnstiles. “Doing anything interesting?” he asked. “Meeting a friend for tapas and you?” Off to a live football game with my brother and a couple of mates. We should hang out one day.”

I couldn’t believe his words. And I must have been looking pretty stupid standing there smiling as he ran to the tube station to get the train. “Are you ok there?” An old lady grabbed my arm. “You do know the lights are green now?” and with that, she dragged me towards the crossing. I hate being grabbed. I think it’s rude. If I need help, I either ask, or if someone asks me politely if I need help, \I either politely accept or decline. So because this old woman was rude in my eyes (I know she wanted to be kind, but I’d had a very tiring day,) I wriggled my arm free which got her out of balance. “So sorry, I said, annoyed, but now worried that she might have fallen over. “But I’m not actually crossing this road and I’d rather you ask if I need help than grab me.” “I only wanted to help,” she said and went away in a huff.

I turned right, and walked confidently forward. I knew I had to walk quite a while before hitting the T junction I needed to cross to get to the right bar, so I relaxed as I took in all the impressions around me. A car drove by playing loud Jamaican dancehall music which made me gently sway my hips to the rhythm. A mother shouted at her protesting child in a language which sounded like it came from India and a drunk man I passed, kept shouting “Grrrrrrrrreat goal!” randomly. The smell from the Turkish bakery mixed with the sweet scent from the newsagent next door and made me hungry. So far my journey was going well and I felt that I navigated elegantly the parts of the street which was cluttered by using my cane less vigorously. A couple of people asked if I needed help to which I said no. To the ones who asked “Are you ok?” I walked passed ignoring them as this is a question I don’t like. I don’t understand why so many people feel the need to help a blind person who doesn’t actually look lost. Or maybe I did look lost? Are you ok, was a question I found alarming from strangers at any rate giving me the feeling there must be something wrong with me.

I had reached the T junction and I hated this, because I was never sure how to actually cross this bit. I knew the first one was straight forward, but though I only really had the options of crossing left and right at the second one which sounds easy enough, it wasn’t quite so easy because I had to walk almost slightly diagonally and then turn right a little to get to the crossing. So not a straight t-junction. The first time I’d tried to find this bar, I’d gotten completely lost, because somebody on the street told me it was straight across the road, a mistake sighted people often make because it may look like it’s straight when actually walking there is far from it. Also, this crossing had no sound so I looked for the light to feel for the cone underneath which would start spinning when the light went green. But, I regretted that move when I bumped right into a person with numerous bags and caused him or her to even lose one. “I’m so sorry,” I said stepping away from him/her. He/she did not reply, but bent down to pick up something I had managed to knock out of the bag. I turned the other way to hear if someone was standing next to me, and I was lucky. “Can you tell me when it’s green please?” I asked. “Yeah.” It was a teenage boy. Oops, I don’t like asking kids for help, especially not teenage boys. Not because they don’t like to help, but because it’s makes me feel even more uncool than I usually feel when walking outside. “It’s green,” the boy grumbled, and I followed the others across the street till I reached the next crossing.

As I manoeuvred my way to find the next and final crossing, I heard someone shouting my name that came running towards me. “Oh, my, gosh! It’s been ages man. How are you?” The girl embraced me in a tight hug. She smelled like fresh mint and sweet perfume. “Fancy seeing you here,” I said when we broke apart. “I know man, how have you been?” Good thanks and you?” “Stressful at work, but everything’s going well. Hey, I need to go, but I’ll take you across and we should so go for a coffee and catch up soon. I want to hear all your 411.” “For sure,” I said. She left me at the entrance to the little arch way in which the bar was. I knew I knew her, but I just couldn’t place her voice and subsequently, I wasn’t entirely sure who I’d just greeted so warmly. I mostly do recognize my friends of course, but some have more memorable voices than others and people I haven’t met a lot, I have more of a problem recognizing, I am always too proud to ask who they are so I just play along.

The bar was crowded, but not full. This time I’d found it on my first attempt, and not nearly destroyed the door on the coffee shop across the archway which had already been open, but which I thought was the closed bar door. I listened until I thought I could hear the counter and started walking slowly. Walking fast in a bar by myself is a bad idea since I never know where bar stools and tables are. At the counter, someone tapped me on the shoulder and I turned hoping it was my friend. “Hello, Excuse me, but can I say something?” It was the voice of a middle aged man I didn’t recognize. I nodded. I had a suspicion of what he would say, but then, it could be something I really needed to know like I somehow got paint on me or something nobody else had bothered to tell me and laughed at all day. “You are so brave and inspirational.” I sighed. “Don’t be patronising I said. Before he had time to reply to defend himself, Juan, the funny and handsome bartender turned towards me. “I think this lady is looking for some Cuban porn stars yes?” I giggled as I always did at the name of that cocktail. “Two if you’re still doing two for one,” I replied feeling my tense face muscles relaxing in a smile. “Did you know I am Cuban?” I had paid for my drinks and he guided me to a table near the window. “Really?” “Yes,” he said pulling out the chair for me in a gentlemanly, not patronising way and put the drinks in front of me. Enjoy!” he shouted as he turned on his heels. In that moment my friend came over to me and grabbed one of my two drinks while she started babbling none stop. “Yes Juan, this will be a great night thanks,” I thought and laughed out loud at something my friend had just said.