When you meet me don’t be ill at ease. It will help both of us if you remember these simple points of courtesy:
1. I’m an ordinary person, just blind. You don’t need to raise your voice or address me as if I were a child. Don’t ask my spouse what I want — “Cream in the coffee?” — ask me.
2. I may use a long white cane or a guide dog to walk independently; or I may ask to take your arm. Let me decide, and please don’t grab my arm; let me take yours. I’ll keep a half-step behind to anticipate curbs and steps.
3. I want to know who’s in the room with me. Speak when you enter. Introduce me to the others. Include children, and tell me if there’s a cat or dog.
4. The door to a room or cabinet or to a car left partially open is a hazard to me.
5. At dinner I will not have trouble with ordinary table skills.
6. Don’t avoid words like “see.” I use them, too. I’m always glad to see you.
7. I don’t want pity. But don’t talk about the “wonderful compensations” of blindness. My sense of smell, touch, or hearing did not improve when I became blind. I rely on them more and, therefore, may get more information through those senses than you do – that’s all.
8. If I’m your houseguest, show me the bathroom, closet, dresser, window – the light switch, too. I like to know whether the lights are on.
9. I’ll discuss blindness with you if you’re curious, but it’s an old story to me. I have as many other interests as you do.
10. Don’t think of me as just a blind person. I’m just a person who happens to be blind.