crypticgirl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crypticgirl) wrote2008-10-23 07:32 pm
crypticgirl) wrote2008-10-23 07:32 pm
Entry tags:
On Being Treated Differently
Today I had two experiences with being treated differently because of my blindness, or to be more specific, the fact that people can see my white cane. The first was while walking with Miss J at lunchtime. We passed an old lady pushing flyers onto anyone who went remotely near her... and she didn't come over to us. I'm so used to this that I didn't give it a second thought.
"Doesn't it bother you that hawkers don't come near you?" asked Miss J. "They always hassle me, but when I'm out with you it's never happened."
"That depends. If they're just giving out written material it makes sense that they'd avoid someone who has a white cane because most people assume your sight is bad enough that you can't read normal print if you've got one. The tin-rattlers really bother me, though. There seems to be an underlying assumption that they can't ask me for money because I must be poverty stricken even though I'm wandering through the CBD during lunch hour with food in my hand and wearing vaguely professional looking clothes. Though granted," I said, looking down at my long black skirt and velvet top, "most people don't wear velvet to work."
Then this evening I was standing on the train platform trying to figure out which train was coming next. This can be tricky at the best of times; they have a habit of changing assigned platforms without announcing the change and/or without changing what's on the screens on the platform. So you might get an announcement of the change, but if you can't hear you're screwed. Or you'll get a visual cue, but nothing auditory. I use both to kind of piece together the information. Things don't always come on time, either, so memorising the timetable will only get you so far.
Even when everything seems to be arriving as it should it can be tricky. I'm lucky because the train line I catch has a much longer name than anything else which comes in on those two platforms, so I can guess the sound by the number of syllables and the word on-screen by how much space it takes up. Unfortunately, these strategies only work when everything else falls into place. With daylight savings there's a lot of glare on the screens making them hard to see, and the noise level at peak hour can drown out announcements.
So I was squinting at the screen trying to get my head Just So in an effort to see the damn thing when a well dressed stranger came up and tapped me on the shoulder.
"You're going to Station x, right?" he asked.
I nodded.
"This is your train. Hop on."
He followed me in the door. I can only assume he gets this train regularly, and has noticed That Blind Chick getting out at Station x all the time. Like the hawkers, this is a mixed blessing. On the one hand it's good that people can pick out who I am and that they pay enough attention to see when I need help. On the other hand it's also a little bit creepy to have strangers know which suburb you live in when you have no way of independently finding out the same information about them.
"Doesn't it bother you that hawkers don't come near you?" asked Miss J. "They always hassle me, but when I'm out with you it's never happened."
"That depends. If they're just giving out written material it makes sense that they'd avoid someone who has a white cane because most people assume your sight is bad enough that you can't read normal print if you've got one. The tin-rattlers really bother me, though. There seems to be an underlying assumption that they can't ask me for money because I must be poverty stricken even though I'm wandering through the CBD during lunch hour with food in my hand and wearing vaguely professional looking clothes. Though granted," I said, looking down at my long black skirt and velvet top, "most people don't wear velvet to work."
Then this evening I was standing on the train platform trying to figure out which train was coming next. This can be tricky at the best of times; they have a habit of changing assigned platforms without announcing the change and/or without changing what's on the screens on the platform. So you might get an announcement of the change, but if you can't hear you're screwed. Or you'll get a visual cue, but nothing auditory. I use both to kind of piece together the information. Things don't always come on time, either, so memorising the timetable will only get you so far.
Even when everything seems to be arriving as it should it can be tricky. I'm lucky because the train line I catch has a much longer name than anything else which comes in on those two platforms, so I can guess the sound by the number of syllables and the word on-screen by how much space it takes up. Unfortunately, these strategies only work when everything else falls into place. With daylight savings there's a lot of glare on the screens making them hard to see, and the noise level at peak hour can drown out announcements.
So I was squinting at the screen trying to get my head Just So in an effort to see the damn thing when a well dressed stranger came up and tapped me on the shoulder.
"You're going to Station x, right?" he asked.
I nodded.
"This is your train. Hop on."
He followed me in the door. I can only assume he gets this train regularly, and has noticed That Blind Chick getting out at Station x all the time. Like the hawkers, this is a mixed blessing. On the one hand it's good that people can pick out who I am and that they pay enough attention to see when I need help. On the other hand it's also a little bit creepy to have strangers know which suburb you live in when you have no way of independently finding out the same information about them.
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I hadn't considered that using a cane would make a person more noticeable in this sort of way -- obviously I've noted the more positive things, like people getting the hell out of the way and the much-improved airport experience -- but it makes sense and is something else for me to consider in the never-ending should-I-shouldn't-I internal dialogue.
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And yes, the "You Are The Blind One" thing is really worth considering. People remember your regular orders at the restaurant. They don't hesitate to show you where that specific item you're looking for is hidden. They give up their seats for you on the train. They speak more loudly to you regardless of whether or not you actually have a hearing loss. They randomly stop to ask you if you need help if you're just standing around waiting for someone. They make it their business to tell you how brave you are, and then they carry the (sometimes unreasonable) expectation that you will smile and not want to slap them.
Then again, some of this might be gender-plus-cane. I don't know whether the blind men get the same range of responses. I don't think there are any other hairy six foot plus blind blokes floating around this LJ for accurate comparison. :)
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I tend to notice regulars, regardless of little cues like white canes. Mind you, that's just me. I also tend to help out those who look bewildered. I suspect that is the part of me that likes to be right and have others notice it.
By the same token, I can't help but want to help others, even when they don't need it.
And yeah, Flinders Street is a bastard.
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Um.
I think it's more likely that people will notice and/or help someone with a white cane, not that it doesn't happen to other people. For instance, if I'm standing at a well known meeting spot like the Flinders Street station steps people will come up and ask me if I'm okay. They don't do that to anyone else standing around that area.
This is good because they get that the white cane means I might sometimes need help, but it's a little irksome because in that situation it can imply that I'm not able to travel and meet a friend independently, depending on how the person approaches me. I always make sure I'm conspicious about checking the time or calling the person I'm meeting when I go there to reinforce that I'm okay. I'd still rather be asked if someone's unsure because I really do get that people mean well, and hey, I might actually need their help. It's sometimes more about the *way* people ask, if that makes sense. Though frankly, if you're the fifth person in ten minutes to ask you're probably not going to get my most patient face regardless of what you do.
Another example: I've been to the baguette place near work all of twice prior to today. They knew what I'd have and they remembered my name. They're incredibly good about the whole bringing-stuff-directly-to-me thing because they know I don't hear very well. I'm assuming they do not have photographic memories, they're just not getting very many deafblind customers and they'd give excellent customer service to anyone.
Having said those things, I've got to admit that my disability paranoia can be really difficult to manage. I've been disabled all my life and my disability prevents me from making lots of everyday observations about how other people are treated. I have a more limited yardstick of how 'normal' people interact to work with, so I go a lot on how someone's actions make me feel. My feelings are by no means a rational or reliable tool. Sometimes that's an excuse rather than an explanation. Sometimes I choose to use my feelings over rational thought because it's more convenient.
I'm not sure I'm making a lot of sense here... let me know if this isn't clear, because I'm trying to be, but some of it is actually pretty muddy in my head.
I also tend to help out those who look bewildered.
So what *have* you done for George W. lately?
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The coffee shop underneath the place I used to work at is good like that. I went there for breakfast once, then two weeks later, they all remembered who I was, how I liked my coffee and croissants.
It happens :)
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The baguette place staff are indeed good food people - WITH FRENCH ACCENTS, no less.
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Though I think I may have an air of vague uncertainty that some people pick up on, because I do very occasionally get the "do you need help?" thing. Maybe it's people who notice when I look a bit lost, and then notice the wonky eye. Really don't know.
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