By Jennifer Dunnam, President

What does it mean truly to know that it is respectable to be blind?

Each year our national convention of the National Federation of the Blind is a highlight of the entire year for many of us—a time when we join together in a national movement to stay informed, to take action, to share ideas and renew acquaintances, and to renew our energy around the work that we do to improve opportunities for blind people. From the March for Independence to the banquet address, from the informative and helpful seminars on every topic imaginable about blindness to the policy debates, there is something for everyone—children, senior citizens, teachers, students, those newly blind, sighted friends and family, and those who have been blind their entire lives. The week is full of opportunities to strengthen our positive philosophy of blindness.

At times, however, the little moments that happen between the hundreds of more formal activities are some of the most meaningful. One of my personal favorites of those moments this year is a story I heard involving my four-year-old nephew Luca. Luca is not blind, but he is familiar with the white cane and especially with braille because of the collections of books I’ve given him and occasionally read to him. He and I do not have a chance to visit with one another often since we live on opposite sides of the country, but he and his parents sometimes attend part of the national convention when it occurs near where they live, as it did this year.

One evening, Luca’s grandmother (my mother, who also attends conventions in connection with her work with blind toddlers) took him to participate in the star party, an outdoor astronomy event designed for children. Having arrived early, Luca had time to strike up a friendship with Anna, a little girl around his age who was blind and used a cane very well. They played energetically around the area for a while, having a great time and getting along well. A while later, when it was time to go and Luca was back with his grandmother, he asked, “When will I get my cane?”

Clearly, as he observed so many adults and children all around with white canes, going about their business, it seemed only natural to him that he would someday get one too, and the idea was no problem with him. No negative attitudes, no fear or shying away, and no feeling sorry for people using canes. He simply wanted to be like his friend and so many others around him—and why not, since he could tell that everyone was doing just fine? At that moment in time, to him, it was perfectly respectable to be blind.

The national convention is a wonderful place to get a true sense of the respectability of blindness. Blind people from all walks of life show what a vast resource our organization is by serving as examples and sharing information, encouragement, and practical tips. Long-time members and new recruits alike are encouraged to try new things, to push beyond what they think they can do. It is practically impossible to experience the convention without discovering something to improve an attitude or even to change a life. It was twenty years ago this year that I attended my first national convention in Chicago, and still, like so many others, I gain much from convention week.

This year our Minnesota affiliate had its usual prominent role in the activities at the convention. Some of the highlights included the ever-popular karaoke night sponsored by Blindness: Learning in New Dimensions (BLIND); the leadership of many Minnesotans in divisions like the National Organization of Blind Educators and others; the presentation of national scholarships to two of our members at the banquet; the election of a Minnesotan to the presidency of the National Organization of Parents of Blind Children; the presentation of a Jacob Bolotin award to BLIND—the list goes on and on.

Unfortunately, not every person in the world can attend NFB conventions and get the kind of concentrated exposure to the truth about blindness that makes such a difference. To convince our larger society of the respectability of blindness, with all it implies, is an ongoing effort on all levels, from the individual and local to the national. It requires the help of all of us who believe that blindness need not in any way diminish our ability to learn, to think, to take care of ourselves and help others, to find our way, or hold a job. Those who know it is respectable to be blind know that the sight or lack of it does not make people superior or inferior to one another. We start with the assumption that a blind person has the capability to do a given task. We hold high expectations for blind people and assume that blind people will exercise their rights and responsibilities as others in society do. We know that the standard for using a cane is to walk confidently and independently, and the standard for reading braille is to read quickly and fluently—in short, that the alternative techniques really work. We assume that blind people will pull their weight as others do. We do not place artificial limits on blind people by making assumptions about what we can and cannot do or by automatically connecting blindness with a need for help. If we happen to be sighted, we certainly do not quash the hopes and dreams of blind people by directing them away from certain activities with statements like, "Even I can't do that, and I can see!"

On the other hand, we who know it is respectable to be blind also know that each person has had different exposures and different opportunities to learn about blindness. It is up to us respectfully but actively to help educate others who do not see things in as positive a way as we do. Such education takes many forms—from setting an example, to teaching someone a new skill, to insisting on equal treatment when some would treat us as special, to writing a letter in opposition to a harmful policy or action, and much in between—and of course, to act in more forceful ways that are sometimes necessary when all else fails, as we sometimes must when the rights and opportunities for blind people are at stake.

It is a goal of the National Federation of the Blind that people like my nephew Luca have the opportunities to see the truth about blindness, and to grow up with that foundation. To use our collective experience and resources to that end helps all of us and ensures that future generations of blind people will have even more opportunity than we have today. No doubt, society’s traditional attitudes about blindness will present themselves, but Luca and children like him will have better access to the positive message of the truth of blindness. If there are blind students in his classes when he is growing up, he is more likely to treat them as just another fellow student and not ostracize them. When he runs a company or becomes a professor, he’ll be more likely to choose employees or deal with his students based on their skills and qualifications and not on the basis of blindness if that happens to be among their characteristics.

May we continue to work hard to strengthen and support the efforts of this organization and one another, so that all children—blind or sighted—can grow up knowing in their hearts that it is respectable to be blind.