Submitted by Jacob Wood

I’ve had the privilege of working with many different blind people over the years. It’s always interesting to learn from, and grow with, people who have real, lived experiences with disabilities. There’s so much to take away from every interaction.

So when Sarah asked me to write about some of my experiences with leading blind folks, I naturally agreed. Here are just a few of my experiences, and the lessons I learned along the way.

Lesson 1: We all have different life experiences 

I once participated in an outdoor challenge course with a variety of activities. It was one of those team building exercises that people often pay good money for, and it was designed to help our group come closer together.

There were several fun activities, from creative thinking exercises to physical challenges like rope climbing.

At one point, we were given some materials and asked to make a model rocket. We had plastic bottles, cardboard for making fins, and some other tools. Oh, and we were blindfolded.

For context, one of the women in our group was totally blind even without the blindfold.

As we got to work on our rockets, she said something I’ll never forget: “I don’t actually remember what a rocket looks like.”

She had lost her vision over time, and it had been decades since she last saw a rocket. As an older woman with no young children at home, she didn’t have toy rockets laying around that she was used to feeling, either. She literally had no concept of the deliverable.

I learned not to assume that we all understand the world the same way, even if we speak the same language and grew up in the same country. Sometimes, there are knowledge gaps or experience gaps between two different people, and we rely on one another to fill in the context.

Ultimately, we worked out the rocket ship design and built something that sort of kind of vaguely flew upward when we launched it. As it turned out, I wasn’t great at building things either.

Lesson 2: We all have to take the leap sometimes

During that same challenge course activity, we were asked to do something that many people find terrifying. We were to climb a 40-foot pole, step out onto a log that was suspended between the pole and a tree, and walk across to the other side.

Not without safety, of course. Professional instructors helped us into climbing harnesses and taught us a few safety techniques. We were attached to the harness by sturdy ropes and the instructors assured us that they would catch us if we fell.

Still. It was 40 feet up in the air. Oh, and we were still blindfolded.

Several of us in the group were too nervous to go first. Nobody wanted to test the theory that those ropes and harnesses were sufficient to stop a person from plummeting to their doom.

I wasn’t much of a leader at the time and rarely volunteered to go first at anything. But I remembered back to elementary school, where I used to climb ropes in our gym during Physical Education class. I enjoyed that then, so I figured this wouldn’t be so bad.

I decided to step up and go first. I donned my harness, grabbed the rungs on the pole, and started my ascent.

Forty feet later, I stepped out onto a log and slowly crept away from the relative safety of the pole. I could hear everyone below, cheering me on. Clapping and sending words of encouragement from four stories below.

So I took a few steps out onto the log.

Then I slipped and immediately began falling. There was a collective hush for a moment.

But I must have only fallen about three feet before our instructor took control and stopped my descent. He slowly lowered me down to the ground while the rest of the group began applauding again.

I failed to cross the log. But I succeeded in showing everyone that it was safe to try.

I also proved to myself that it’s okay to go first. To take the leap sometimes. To be brave.

Lesson 3: We need to be vulnerable sometimes

Another time, I remember sitting around a table in a conference room and having a deep discussion with a group of about 12 people or so.

Some of us knew each other very well. Others were relatively new to the group.

The conversation we were having was pretty heavy. I remember one woman, who was blind, opening up and sharing part of her story about the difficulties she faced as a disabled person in an able-built world.

Her sentiments were raw. Heart-felt. They moved some of us to tears.

Myself included.

She was completely vulnerable in that situation. But it was necessary. It was important for her to share her thoughts, feelings, and concerns so the rest of us could feel her. To really have empathy for her situation.

Before then, I was pretty guarded as a person. I didn’t share my feelings about most things unless they were positive or unless someone pried them out of me. But something changed that day.

She modeled leadership vulnerability in a way that would make Brené Brown smile. But she wasn’t even leading a team – she was just part of the group. Yet she taught me the power of being open and honest when it counted, and I’ve kept that lesson with me.

Lesson 4: We need to be flexible, and sometimes to improvise

Speaking of empathy. I was facilitating a workshop about empathy for a group of call center staff when I realized something important at the last minute. I intended to get people to participate by raising their hands and being called on (original, I know) but there was a blind man in attendance who wouldn’t be able to know who around the room was raising their hand.

I was literally standing in front of the class, slides on screen, and about to open my mouth when I had this realization.

So just like that, on the spot, I changed it up a bit.

“Instead of raising our hands to speak up, I’d like you all to knock on your desk like this,” I told the group, and then did a drumroll with my knuckles on my lectern.

“With a show of hands, who can do that for me?”

There was a flood of drumrolls from around the room.

It felt like an inspired moment. It solved an immediate accommodation need, but it also did so in a way that broke the ice with the group and empowered everyone to show a bit of solidarity.

It taught me that we all need to be flexible sometimes. To improvise when we aren’t aware of what solution might be best. To just go for something that might work. To pledge to pivot and adjust as needed, but not to let the lack of a solution get in the way of solving a problem.

Lesson 5: We’re not always what we seem

The blind man in that call center meeting room?

That was me.

I asked people to give a drumroll instead of raising their hands because I couldn’t see them go up. Rather than have everyone just pipe up and shout, or designate someone as the “Official Hand Watcher,” I came up with a solution to my problem on the spot.

I had no idea whether it would work. But it did.

Before that time, I had never facilitated a live workshop before. Sure, I had spoken to crowds and talked on panels, but that was my first experience with an interactive session where I would need to talk back and forth with the audience.

Frankly, I had been nervous to even be there. But I realized that I wasn’t what I seemed to be.

Not even to myself.

I didn’t know I would be capable of delivering an hour long, slide-heavy workshop when I couldn’t even see the slides I was presenting.

But I got a show of hands, asked volunteers to read the slide titles, and improvised the details of my presentation as we went. By knowing the material inside and out, I was able to talk authoritatively about the topic without needing to rely on speaker notes or talking points.

I ran the same workshop three more times, and each class gave great reviews. It turned out, I was a pretty competent facilitator.

Who knew?

Lesson 6: We all have something to teach

We may not all be teachers, but I believe everyone has something to teach. We may not even know when we’re saying or doing something that others are going to learn from, but rest assured that there will be people in your life who need to hear what you have to say.

That’s why these last two points are perhaps the most important of all:

• Do not silence yourself unnecessarily. When that little voice inside of you says that you don’t need to speak up because nobody wants to hear you, I’d encourage you to tell it to hush. Do the brave thing and share your thoughts with vulnerability and honesty. Chances are good that you do, in fact, have something meaningful to contribute.
• Give others the space to do the same thing. As much as we have that we can teach people, we also need to be open to learning from the people around us. Encourage people to share and be vulnerable, and accept what they offer with humility. We must make others feel psychologically safe so they can be open to teaching. Otherwise, there very well may be a lot of wisdom out there that goes unspoken.

What are your thoughts? What sort of experiences have shaped who you are as a person?

Share with the community so we can learn from you.

About The Author

Jacob Wood is a blind accessibility evangelist, learning designer, and life-long student of servant leadership. He believes that personal growth is a team effort, and would love to have you on his team.

You can follow him on LinkedIn or subscribe to his newsletter to get more of his thoughts on how to make the world a more accessible, inclusive place for everyone.