Just Ask: Advocacy and Interacting with Disabled People
by Blog Writers
By Alicia Krage
I’ve been blind practically from birth. I had vision for a month, so I obviously don’t remember it. So in my mind, while there are likely visual memories stored from my very early days of life, being blind is the only life I’ve known. That being said, I’m very used to advocating for all kinds of things — inclusion and accessibility, mostly.
This might sound a bit negative, but this world was not designed with disabled people in mind. If it was, we’d always have audio description, wheelchair accessible entrances, ride-share drivers ready and willing to take passengers and their service animals, etc. But sadly, this is not the case. We have to find resources for audio-described content. We have to report ride-share drivers who won’t accept a guide dog. We have to make companies aware if their apps or websites don’t work with screen-reading software. I’ve gotten pretty used to that, and while it does frustrate me more often than not, it’s also a lesson in how to make others aware. I don’t think it’s always intentional. Not all companies have an accessibility team full of screen-reader users, for example, who know the inner workings of it all and how it should work with navigating apps and websites. So we educate. We inform people what our access needs are. And when we encounter people who may offer to help too much when we’re out and about, we tell them if we need help or not — and if we do, we tell them how to help us.
I don’t mind doing these things, because the only way for people to know how to accommodate us is for us to educate them, and it teaches us to be advocates of the disabled community. I think it also helps others become comfortable asking what we need, or how we do things, or how they can help. In the end, that’s all I want. All I want is for people to ask and educate.
I know that for some, I am the first blind person someone has ever encountered, whether it’s close friends I have now and we were once strangers, or ride-share drivers or even airport staff. It isn’t news to me, and I don’t mind. But sometimes I think that people are so nervous to ask us questions that they’d either rather (1) help in the way they think is appropriate, or (2) assume they know what we need or where we’re going. As frustrating as this can be to navigate, I’m learning that most people do have good intentions.
When I’m out and about in the world, I have a lot of respect for those who are very upfront about the fact that they don’t know how to guide me. It’s the same kind of comfort you get from talking to someone about something difficult and they say, “I don’t know what to say, but I’m listening.” I know that we’re all human, therefore we don’t always have the right answers or take the right actions, but being transparent about that is much appreciated, especially for me. People who just flat out ask, “How do I guide you?” Or, “I’m new to this, what would help you?” goes a long way. This happens to me a lot at Southwest Airlines when navigating airports. Often times, they’re used to assisting disabled passengers, but as we know, “disability” is a broad term and can mean all types of disabilities. They may have more experience with another disability that isn’t blindness. In these cases, I’ve had a lot of airport assistance just ask me how to help, and I think that’s so important for non-disabled people to do. You won’t know our access needs and accommodations if we don’t tell you. And in order for us to tell you, you have to ask. We don’t ever expect you to just know, but we do expect respect.
Unfortunately, this doesn’t always happen, and since relocating from my hometown and transitioning from suburban life to a big city, it sometimes feel like I’ve had to start from scratch. While Houston does seem to have a familiarity with blindness, I encounter people who get flustered and uncertain sometimes. Sometimes it’s as simple as correcting them (“I’ll take your arm,” when they take hold of my wrist to guide me), and other times it’s having to stand my ground a little. I’m working on finding the line between educating others politely and being assertive. Because a lack of knowledge is one thing, but disrespect is another whole other ball game that I feel like maybe I have been tolerating for too long. I think it’s okay to give people the benefit of the doubt sometimes, but not always.
Recently, I was going with a friend to get her nails done. She’s also blind. When we got off the bus and were heading toward the doors, someone approached us and asked if we needed help. My friend replied with a polite “no thank you.” After being asked two more times, there was a bit of a pause before I then heard her tell them that she didn’t need help and to please not touch her. Often times, people will put their hands on our shoulders to steer us, or often grab our arm to turn us in the right direction, even though we said no and even though we aren’t lost. Sometimes this happens without even asking if we need help, and as you can probably imagine, can be pretty startling. But watching her navigate this situation and using an assertive tone but not being overly aggressive made me realize that I have let others take away my autonomy for far too long. People won’t know what I need and what’s okay and what’s not okay unless I tell them. If I tell them that isn’t okay and educate them, this’ll benefit both of us.
I’m learning that maybe that’s how we advocate. Maybe we watch others. Maybe we see the way others conduct themselves and follow in their footsteps. At least, that’s how I want to learn. I want to surround myself with people who are good at educating others on their access needs but also being firm about their boundaries. And you can make this easier by just asking how to help. Ask and educate.
Alicia Krage is a graduate of Northern Illinois University. She relocated to Houston, Texas in early 2023 where she found a great community of people with disabilities. She has a passion for writing, centering her posts on advocacy, inclusivity, and relationships as a totally blind person.