Recently, I took to my personal social media to share some experiences and needs that are emerging as I navigate my journey with vision loss.
In 2011, I lost all vision in my right eye after a surgery to repair a retinal detachment. In 2016, I was diagnosed with glaucoma in my left eye which began to reduce and distort my remaining vision. Since then, the rate of loss has fluctuated, sometimes declining gradually and other times dropping steeply in a short period. Like other forms of loss, it’s been a rollercoaster of grief, surrender, acceptance, resentment, and at times, revelation. It hasn’t been an easy journey, and I haven’t always been upfront about the needs my condition creates with the people in my life—both personally and professionally.
In my social media post, I asked friends and acquaintances who frequently see me around New Orleans—where my home is—to identify themselves by name when approaching me in public places like restaurants, bars, or the, oh-so-common, street festival. I’m a hugger from way back, and so is a lot of NOLA, but my comfort has begun to shift as it’s become more difficult to see. I shared that, while it might feel counterintuitive to a person with full vision, standing directly in front of me doesn’t mean that I see you.
The post had an immediate impact. Within days, friends (and even friends of friends as is the nature of social media) began introducing themselves by name when they saw me around what is now evident is a relatively small town. I felt immense gratitude for what may have seemed like such a small adjustment to them.
The intersection between important aspects of my identity and my work as a DEI practitioner has never been a mystery. Like many in the field, it is my interwoven identities, and the experiences born from them, that are the foundation of my passion for this work. But my ongoing journey with disability has illuminated a need for greater intentionality and purpose when it comes to accessibility as a central component of DEI.