By Cathy Jackson, President, National Federation of the Blind of Kentucky

(Editor’s Note: The following article is reprinted from the Winter 2010 issue of the Kentucky Cardinal, a publication of the NFB of Kentucky. As well as Kentucky state president, Cathy is a member of the national board of directors.)

I was a participant on a panel at a State Presidents seminar held at our national headquarters in Baltimore, Maryland where the topic of visual impairment was discussed. We also touched on how to convince partially blind individuals that they can benefit greatly by being a part of the National Federation of the Blind (NFB), the nation's largest organization of the blind speaking for the blind. Of course, just as important is the fact that they in turn have much to offer the NFB. For many it is automatically assumed that we are an organization of the blind because our name says it all, the National Federation of the Blind, not the National Federation of the Blind and Visually Impaired.

For purposes of this article, I am going to use the terms visually impaired, partially sighted and partially blind or similar phrases that may come to mind. I am not afraid to use the word blind or admit that I am a blind person, but I need to make distinctions and clarifications.

The public in general only recognizes total blindness or perfect vision, anything in between is a mystery. Trust me; it's also a mystery to those of us with partial vision. How can I see a dime on the floor from across the room and fall over a chair getting to it?

There have been countless times when, during a conversation, I have said something like, "As a blind person I...” There is an immediate gasp. "You're not blind; you can see, can't you?” Then they start waving their hands in my face. I feel compelled to launch into an explanation. "Yes I have some usable vision but my visual acuity is 20/200, which means that I meet the legal and medical definition of blindness.” The discussion doesn't usually end there. They start pointing to objects asking if I can see them. When my daughter, Nickie, was little and her friends asked how well her dad and I could see, she would simply say, "My dad is almost blind, my mom is half blind and I am a little bit blind."

The honest to goodness truth is that all too often visually impaired people don't know exactly where they fit in. On one hand, we the NFB say, "Admit you are blind.” But on the other hand, there are those who have somewhat of a condescending attitude that says, "But you can really see."

At a national convention, I overheard a conversation between two people and one of them said, "NFB doesn't ever discuss the issues faced by those of us with low vision, do they?” I stopped and thought, “You know, we really don't. I have talked with members in the Kentucky affiliate who have expressed this exact same sentiment to me.”

If you stop and think about it, visually impaired individuals face the same problems as totally blind people. Actually, our situation may be even more precarious. The public in general is convinced that totally blind people can't do anything; however, they aren't exactly sure just what to expect from those of us with partial vision. If we are half-blind, are we expected to do only half as much?

We walk into the job interview and it is apparent that we have some vision, but we called ahead to have the test put in an accessible format — large print, audio, and even braille. We too have to convince the potential employer that we can do the job and with the proper accommodations we are every bit as competent as our sighted peers. We have to make accommodations in the classroom. We have the same issues with public transportation. More often than not, we are unable to read the destination sign in the window of the bus and have to ask, “What bus is this?”

Now put a cane in the hand of someone like me. Let me tell you that really adds a layer of confusion. I am treated quite differently when I am carrying my cane. I was traveling to Oregon a few years ago to serve as the national representative to their state convention. As I recall I had to change airplanes twice before I arrived in Oregon. I was grabbed by the shoulders and turned around and the end of my cane was lifted off the ground. I protested and took the opportunity to turn the situation into a teachable moment. During one of the layovers, I decided to head to the ladies' room to freshen up a bit. I stood my long white cane next to me and proceeded to comb my hair and reapply my lipstick. In the mirror I could see a lady standing behind me watching with curiosity, unaware that I was watching her. All sorts of thoughts were running through my head. Did she think I was faking my blindness? Was she wondering if I could actually apply lipstick? Was she waiting for me to make a mess of it all? There were a couple of other things I was considering. Maybe I'll just apply the lipstick on and around my lips so as not to disappoint her if she doubted my skill to put on makeup. No, I decided then I would have to wash my face. Then a second brainstorm popped into my head. I think I'll turn around and ask her if I look OK. No, there would be nothing gained by embarrassing her. Instead, I chose a more polite approach. When I turned around, I simply said hello. She made a beeline to the nearest stall.

On this same trip coming home from Oregon I was pretty tired and not in the mood to be hassled. An attendant in the O'Hare airport decided that I needed a cart to transport me to my gate. I assured her I was fine and if she would just give me directions I could travel alone. Besides, I had been sitting for several hours and needed to stretch my legs, to which she replied, "Not on my watch.” I was told to stay put. Lucky for me O'Hare is quite busy. When she turned her head, I collapsed my cane and bolted. Should I have folded my cane and run? Probably not. Looking back that was the coward's way out. I should have stood my ground, but as I said, I was tired and not very rational. I was counting on the fact that if I put my cane away I would be just another passenger in the airport and it worked. I hope by now they have called off the search.

If I weren’t already a member of NFB, how would you convince me or any other partially sighted individual that joining NFB would be a great idea? What would you say to me when I tell you I have enough vision to "fake it”? How would you persuade me that learning to do things using non-visual techniques might actually make my life easier? How would you encourage me to open up and share my experiences, both good and bad? And probably the biggest challenge to me: what would you say and do to make me feel comfortable in my own skin? Just telling someone it's OK to be blind isn't always enough.

Most of you reading this article know that I am self-sufficient and strong-willed. How did this happen? It was no accident. I was fortunate enough to have parents who made it clear from the get-go that I was no different from my siblings apart from the fact that I couldn't see as well. I was expected to do well in school and to do chores around the house. They also made accommodations that I was totally oblivious to, but grew to realize their importance. I had large print storybooks and coloring books and white paper plates dotted the baseball field so I could see the bases. They instilled in me a sense of confidence and well-being.

Looking back over my life there were very few times when I was made to feel embarrassed or ashamed of being visually impaired, or made to believe that I was less of a person. I understand this isn't always the case. Some partially blind people haven't been so lucky. For these individuals NFB could be a pivotal point in their lives. If we can convince them to attend a chapter or division meeting and especially a state or national convention, we can begin the mentoring process and show through our actions that the NFB philosophy does apply just as precisely to partially sighted people. Visually impaired individuals will learn that they no longer have to "fake it" but "face it.” We can teach them to advocate for themselves. They will learn the use of alternative techniques that can reduce a visual impairment to a nuisance. Pretty soon they won't care if they are referred to as blind and the word blind will become just a part of their vocabulary. It's all about changing attitudes. You see, no pun intended, there truly are more similarities than differences between partially sighted and totally blind people. We all want to be treated with respect. We all want to be independent and productive citizens. We need to continue setting the success bar higher for ourselves than others do.

If you have ever doubted your place in the National Federation of the Blind, let me assure you that you are welcome and that your membership is valued. I attended my first national convention in New Orleans in 1977. Every national board member I met or saw walking around the convention was totally blind, or perhaps it was merely the fact that they were using their blindness skills to perfection and I assumed they were totally blind. Although at that time I thought one had to be blind to be a member of the Board of Directors, I am living proof that this is not the case. I have never doubted for a minute my membership in the Federation or the contributions I have made. I also value the lessons and opportunities that the NFB has afforded me. So for those of you who are partially blind members of the organization I want you to realize your worth; and to all of us, let's share with other partials who may be feeling left out.