So, I titled this piece, The Things That Irk Me: Part I, because I am certain there will be a part II, and a part III, etc, etc in the future. But, I also titled it, How To Make An Awkward Situation Into A Learning Experience, because the things that irk me and the awkward situations written about below go hand in hand.
As blind people we have all faced situations in the public that make us very uncomfortable, and at times, maybe even afraid of our safety. The NFB though has taught me so much about handling those awkward situations in the public. And, because the NfB has instilled in me a certain amount of confidence and poise, I’ve taken it upon myself to learn how to be safe (for one of those just in case times).
I’m going to jump right in with those irksome/awkward situations because this is a blog and blogs should be short.
1. “It’s green.”, “You can cross now.”, “Make a right.”, “There’s a pole there.”
How many times have we all heard these phrases? I hear these usually not-so-helpful phrases on a daily basis. I have learned throughout the years that I should just let these comments roll off my back; and, I usually do. What gets me though is the day I have a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day and I don’t let those comments just roll off my back.
When I was pregnant with Erik, almost daily, I was asked if I was okay while I stood waiting with the rest of the crowd to board BART (Bay area Rapid Transit). I don’t know why people felt like they needed to know if I was okay … wait, I do know why. I’m blind and I use a long white cane. Well, I decided to look busy to try and avoid this increasingly annoying question. I’d play on my iPhone. I’d put ear buds in my ears and listen to music or a book. Despite my efforts to look busy, I’d still hear, and sometimes get someone tapping me on the shoulder, “Are you okay?”
I decided from then on to turn the question back on them. So when I was asked if I was okay I would say, “Yes, I’m fine. How about you? Are you okay?” I had a wide range of reactions from “Oh, I’m fine. I just wanted to check if you were.” To “What, of course I’m fine. I was just trying to help.”
I consider this example both an irksome situation and an awkward situation. Did I learn anything from this? Yes. I learned that it is okay to have bad days; and that instead of being irked I’d rather turn the situation into something awkward. Okay, call me a rabble rouser but I feel that by turning that same irksome question upon the speaker makes them take a step back and think: “Why did I ask if that blind lady was okay?” Maybe next time, they’ll engage me in a friendly conversation instead of assuming I need some form of help.
2. Why do people feel like they can touch me or the things that belong to me?
Yup, we’ve all had it done to us. People who grab our canes to guide us across the street. Or, the people who grab our arms and guide us places. I’d like to take it one step further though. It really irks me when the sighted public feels like it is okay to touch my child—not just touch him and pinch his incredibly cute chubby cheeks, but put his shoes on when he kicks them off, wipe his nose for him when he’s leaking like a faucet and on, and on, and on.
The last week has been a little trying on BART for me (I’m going to have to write a post on commuting with a kid). Erik’s got to be going through some regression or something because he’s really, really needy, clingy, drooly, screeching, and the list goes on. In his attempt to try my patience, he likes to kick his shoes on. Most people will let me know he’s kicked his shoes off and will hand the shoe to me. I think these people learned what to do after the incident about a year ago. The new folks, however, have no clue that they should hand me Erik’s shoe. Really, am I asking much? These people think it is perfectly okay to put his shoe on for me. Am I crazy here? Seriously, feel free to comment below if I’m out of bounds to feel that people have no right to put my kid’s shoes on for me. It is totally a personal space issue. My kid is my space.
If that’s not bad enough, the other day, a very nice lady I often chat with on BART, took it upon herself to wipe his snotty little nose. I looked at her, and said, “Um, I hope you don’t catch the cold he has.” Do people think because I cannot see Erik’s dripping faucet, I don’t know it is dripping? I mean, I had just wiped it minutes before.
Okay, I think writing this all down has soothed me for now.
Stay tuned for a part two someday down the road.
Bay Area Blind Mom