Take a Walk on the Wild Side
OR Cane Training 102 (Part Deux)

Some facts for you: [1]
  • 290,500 people are registered in the UK as 'severely sight impaired' or 'sight impaired' (I am the latter).
  • Only 27% of blind and partially sighted people of working age are in employment.
  • 35% of blind and partially sighted people say that they sometimes, frequently or always experience negative attitudes from the public in relation to their sight loss (including me).
That’s a lot of people with sight loss, isn’t it? And a hell of a lot of very capable people left unemployed? And what about the negative attitudes? My goodness, you’d think we were still living in 1876…

​In Part Deux of this essay, I’ll focus on the mad, the sad, and the bad of white cane usage.
Blind Woman Coming Through!!
​I’ve now been using a white cane when I’m outside in the world for over a year. I know some people ‘name’ their canes. Perhaps it makes the cane feel less formal, less impersonal, more like a friend, (or heaven forbid) like a pet? I call mine ‘cane’ – not Michael or Kwai Chang (that’s one for the 70s kids, Grasshopper) – just ‘the cane’. I have no desire to give it a name. I also have no desire to change its colour. Yes, you can have a pink, blue or green cane rather than a white one if you like. That seems to defeat the object for me though. The universal symbol of blindness is the white cane, isn’t it? Pretty much everyone knows what it means, don’t they? It’s partly why I’m using it. So that people know to get out the way when I’m coming towards them. Not run me over in their cars, etc. What I didn’t realise, is that to some people it also indicates that I can’t hear, speak for myself, order anything in a restaurant, read, get a job (see point two above), make art, and always need help crossing the road.
References:
[1] 'Realities of Sightloss' RNIB website 
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