Rarified Bubble

“Super blink” might be the harshest insult inside the so-called blind community. It refers to a visually impaired person who has done so well in mainstream society that they’re out of touch with other blind people. The mainstream equivalent might be “nerd,” a pejorative that has been around since the 1950s. Although “nerd” has been transformed into a compliment, the way other groups have embraced insults and turned them upside-down, a perception persists that nerds can be so preoccupied with their work that they become indifferent to the conditions of people with whom they grew up.

Who are these “super blinks”? I think of several blind people I’ve known who have made significant contributions: a former head of her college’s bioethics department, an executive managing thousands of employees at a major corporation, a federal Court of Appeals judge, an influential member of her church, a professor at a school for international diplomacy, a lawyer representing immigrants, and more. I doubt any of them would welcome the “super blink” label. Their successes ride on the shoulders of those who preceded them and the many people and educators, blind and sighted, who joined them for some or part of the way.

The phrase came to mind last week, when a blind visitor to my website told me I must “live in a rarified bubble.” She was reacting to my skeptical comments about a published story by a blind author in which a blind adolescent is raped. Not only do the police dismiss her identification of the assailant based on his voice, but they also refuse to conduct a DNA test on him. I explained that I believe fiction must be convincing on its own terms and that I found the police’s blatant indifference improbable. It was a literary, not a factual, assessment. Such a story can be written, I said, but it would require better insight into the characters and knowledge of police oversight. I added that if the story were based on actual events, it deserved to be written as nonfiction, backed up by thorough research. My critic, whom I’ll call Carey, maintained her position over the course of four email exchanges that I haven’t a clue about the lives of ordinary blind people.

Jonathan Mosen is a blind technology expert and thoughtful podcaster who works closely with the blind community, whether in his home country of New Zealand or here in the United States. In a conversation he and I had on his April 26, 2023 podcast, he told a story that shows the perception of “super blink” isn’t limited to the blind community. In this case, the concept was used as the opposite of an insult, but it undermined the purpose of his presentation:

I went to talk to a group of parents … I thought that it went really well. I talked about setting correct expectations for their kids, for letting them scrape their knees and get out there and do all the things that kids do. And I found out later that when I left that talk, a sighted professional got up and said, “You can’t expect your child to achieve what Jonathan has achieved because he’s a super blind”.

[A note about how to access this episode of Mosen’s podcast appears at the end of this post.]

That instructor was telling parents that only a few blind people can expect to lead fulfilling lives. In that light, setting an example is a double-edged sword because it elevates some blind people over others.

Concerning the “super blind/blink” concept, I told Mosen, less grammatically than I would have wished: “All the ways that blind people manage society, manage their lives, I think is what disproves the negatives about the concept of blindness.”

To that, Mosen said:

I think that attitude, if I may say, is a little bit selfish because it doesn’t deal with the systemic problem where some blind people who are less able to advocate for themselves are going to make no progress at all with that mindset.

It’s tempting at such a moment to throw up one’s hands and say, “I give up. I’m trapped in a Catch-22.” But Mosen is right that many people, disabled or otherwise, are poor advocates for themselves. I also get the point that for me to consider certain blind people as examples can be construed as pretending away advantages they may have.

Few, if any, of the so-called “super blinks” I’ve known emerged from privilege. If any had an advantage, it might have been growing up in a supportive family. Otherwise, each of the super blinks I’ve known worked hard to get to their positions and continued to once there.

In addition, the super blinks I’ve known go out of their way to assist their fellow blind travelers. Blind college graduates gladly offer assistance to blind students, as do blind professionals to blind people starting out on their careers. They get involved, such as by taking on responsible roles in organizations for the blind.

Super blinks cannot escape their role as ambassadors representing all blind people. It’s astonishing how many nondisabled people have not encountered a blind person, and so each blind person has a disproportionate impact on how all blind people are perceived. When I set off to my old downtown Manhattan office, I’d be sure to return greetings from passersby, keep my white cane close in crowds at subway turnstiles so as not to trip someone, signal my intentions as I boarded trains, and so on. Yes, I wanted to make a favorable impression as sociable and caring on my fellow New Yorkers, but I was also conscious that what I did and said would reflect on all who share my disability.

In reality, not all blind people are pleasant, on their way to work or anywhere else, and undoubtedly none is pleasant all the time. One blind friend was furious at me for speaking sharply when a Zoom call host kept allowing a participant to interrupt my presentation because of her inability to access the video feed. (See my satirical post, “Trial by Zoom Session. For the record, the real-life session was constructive and I stayed on to its conclusion.”)

I think it’s fair to say that neither Mosen nor I had definitive answers to the questions we discussed. They boil down to concerns about personal and social responsibility, which have intrigued society since the dawn of civilization. What is the obligation, if any, of a passing stranger to a man left by robbers in a ditch? How can we overcome the injustice where some disabled people prosper in mainstream society but many do not?

I wish mainstream society noticed arguments like this going on among disabled people. They have a lot to say about society’s divisions. The “super blink” disparagement is a microcosm of today’s national crisis, where grievances against the so-called elite drove election results.

I hope I’ve accurately conveyed Mosen’s respectful, deeply considered arguments. It’s possible he’s done more good for blind people than any other single figure, including, whether he likes it or not, by the example he sets.

It does occur to me that his misgivings might not be about success as such, but about success in mainstream society. For a blind person to prosper there could be perceived as distancing them from the blind community. If so, I would be troubled. To the extent that disabled people are disengaged from the larger world, they will stay marginalized. Sad for disabled people, but also unfortunate for society. They have so much to contribute.

Either way, Mosen and Carey are justified in questioning my claim for super blinks’ beneficial influence. To their implicit point, successful mainstream careers do not necessarily lift up those who feel left behind. But concerns from the opposite end are also legitimate, beginning with whether there is more that those who feel left behind can do to improve their conditions.

Debates over questions that are hard to resolve bring out life’s crucial dilemmas, which are what make it complex and rich. For all that we humans justifiably criticize ourselves for egocentrism, we do worry about our fellow human beings and speculate how we can do better. Disabled people may be more caught up in these questions than most, in which case the debates inside our fractious community ought to matter to the world.

Notes

1. In this post, I have used “blind,” “visually impaired” and “disabled” more or less interchangeably. In reality, “disabled” is such a broad category that it defies generalities. Paraplegia and schizophrenia, for example, present entirely different challenges that call for very different adaptive techniques and accommodations. Nevertheless, I believe my general observations here apply.

2. “Vanilla blind” is, or was, a term for a blind person who has no other disabilities. I’m told that it has morphed into the more current term for “super blink”: a blind person who has advantages, such as being wealthy, educated, blessed with a supportive family, and so on. I don’t use the term in this post because I’ve only had it explained to me, and I’ve never heard it used in a social setting. However, the persistence of the “super blink” concept is telling.

3. By chance, today’s New York Times carries an obituary of Diane Coleman, an effective disabled opponent of the right-to-die movement. Here is another debate within the disabled community that bears on a mainstream battle.

4. On April 26, 2023, podcaster Jonathan Mosen interviewed me on his show, Living Blindfully, about my novel Caroline and other sometimes controversial questions. You can visit his site for the transcript of the show.

To skip past some lengthy preliminary material to the interview, search for my name. The 58-minute audio, which begins at the show’s 48th minute, can also be played or downloaded on his site.