A funny thing happened tonight.
So I walk onto the elevator in my apartment building, press the button for my floor then promptly offer to do the same for other passengers streaming in. A few people gave me their floor numbers, which I promptly punched in, but then had to listen to a rather unusual monologue from someone sharing the lift. One gentleman proceeded to ooh and ah about the fact that I’d found the elevator buttons and managed to press the correct ones. To hear him talk, you’d think I’d morphed into MacGyver, produced a clove of garlic and a roll of duct tape from my pocket and whipped up a cure for the common cold. It honestly made me feel very uncomfortable, and judging from the awkward silence that prevailed in the elevator, I wasn’t alone. I’m the first to acknowledge that this man meant well, and for this I tacetly thank him, but the whole incident brought me back to an observation I’ve made from time to time — people seem to take more conversational liberties with me than they do with my sighted peers.
Let me clear one thing up right away — these conversational liberties are rarely, if ever, insulting in and of themselves. Today’s little encounter is actually quite typical of the sort of thing I mean. People seem to feel the need to shower me with praise when I accomplish every-day tasks (running down the subway stairs to catch a train, walking down the street, producing the correct change when paying for something at a cash register). I’ve always wondered why they felt such comments were necessary. What is it about a person’s blindness that makes it ok to eschew conversational norms and verbalize things they likely wouldn’t say to a sighted person? Have you ever been complemented for “knowing your way around so well” while taking a stroll through your neighbourhood? Has someone ever told you you were “very pretty” while standing in line to buy a set of measuring spoons? Has your prowess on the escalator or knack with a turnstyle ever singled you out for public adulation? :p It may sound like I’m exagerating, but I assure you I’ve received comments on every one of these things. I’m grateful for the complements and appreciate that people mean well, but truly don’t understand why people feel such remarks are necessary. Sure I have daily challenges to overcome, but so do countless others. It takes genuine courage for someone who is severely agorophobic to brave public streets, while a person with an eating disorder is undergoing an intensive internal battle every time s/he does something as straight forward as sit down to dinner. Such people are forced to plum their personal resources just to get on with the business of living, but I bet they don’t get recognized for doing so. Their struggles are internal and less obvious to the public eye and somehow seem to command a different level of social etiquette. Personally, I wish it weren’t so. I’m not advocating for wholesale praise to be showered on everyone who’s getting on with their day — in fact quite the opposite. In my opinion, you do a great deal more to bolster someone’s confidence when you accept their “achievements” as a matter of course and silently afirm your confidence that they can overcome whatever obstacles they face.
That isn’t to say that people can’t ask questions. I actually love it when people overcome their shyness about my blindness and spit out whatever queries they might have. Had my elevator co-passenger simply turned to me and asked how I was able to identify the buttons, for example, it would have led to an exchange that was both more natural and fruitful for all concerned. But maybe I’m alone in finding questions less awkward than arbitrary praise that I usually feel to be undeserved.
So tell me, who’s the oddball? Have I gone off half-cocked because of a bizarre incident or am I making sense? Have you ever noticed different social standards being applied to certain groups?
[…] previous entries I’ve discussed the unusual social behaviours and bizarre conversational liberties that people sometimes fall into when interacting with a blind person. I don’t think […]
this makes complete sense. i hope to remember this in the future and keep my useless comments to myself. 😉
Such interesting points, Michelle, and ones that I’d never before considered.
I have a theory about this but have tried to write it a few times and I can’t seem to make it coherent; suffice to say that many a sighted person can’t imagine what life would be like if they were to become blind and their comments reflect that cluenessness.
I am sighted. But for some reason, I too seem to attract more than my fair share of unsolicited comments. My Guy says it’s because I am quite relaxed and friendly, which is not always the norm in Toronto, so folks think that it’s okay to take conversational liberties. Whatever.
Hey Michelle, it’s Kim from YLF.
I had to laugh at the guy in the elevator who was so impressed with you locating the correct buttons. I’m assuming the buttons had braille? Did you point this out to him “well sir, as you are obviously sighted, you should clearly see the braille markings under each button”
Please note, I didn’t mean that I assume the buttons had braille because I think you couldn’t have managed without, but I do think that most every elevator I ride in has braille markings… as do ATM machines. It seems to be pretty standard.
I think people are generally pretty clueless to how people with a disability navigate through life if they don’t have the same disability.
Does the average person think about alternate exits they’d have to use on subway platforms or at their workplace if they were a wheelchair user? Probably not.
I think that’s the deal with the dude in the elevator. Since he knows you can’t see, he can’t understand how you hit the correct buttons, since to hit them, he will always look at them first. The idea of memorizing button position or being able to feel the raised letters on the buttons are not his experience. I think that’s why he was mystified.