Thursday, October 3, 2013

Strangers Among Us: Wwhy Able Bodied People Refuse To Not Help

While roaming about Facebook, I came across the following blog The Braille Code 


It describes a blind woman’s frustration with being the constant receiver of “help” from the sighted public, and the intricacies of navigating a world which expects gratitude and praise from people with disabilities for providing assistance, even when that assistance is unnecessary and unrequested. Erin Isn’t ungrateful in her post, she is understanding of the able bodied person’s dilemma when encountering someone with a disability and their immediate reaction to want to jump in and be of assistance, and at the same time, she encourages those who wish to be helpful to use common sense and not to grab, drag, and treat people with disabilities as inferior. 

There is so much going on when these interactions take place that it is difficult to really get a handle on the root of the problem. And, while much has to do with society’s expectations for people with disabilities, which are not very high, I suspect that it has to do in greater part with how the brain processes information.

Not too long ago, we were wowed by the discovery of Mirror Neurons (check out the clip)

These neurons fire up when an animal watches another animal perform a task, but more importantly, they also fire up when an animal performs the task itself. Observations led scientists to the belief that for these neurons, there was no difference in the animal performing an action, and the animal watching another animal perform the same action. Studies led to investigations into empathy, consciousness, and how we perceive, understand, and interact with others around us. After all, why is it that if you see me hit my finger with a hammer, you wince at my pain, or why is it that if you had tears in your eyes, and are sniffling, I’d probably ask if you were ok and assume you were crying? Our interactions however, are more complex than reading into others pain and emotions.

Imagine you’re watching a street performer. She begins to break dance and you can understand the movement, as it relates to the music, and you are amazed by the skill and flexibility of the performance. But you’re not a dancer. All you see is amazing athletic ability, and feel that the dancer is doing something with their body which you cannot do.

In the three minutes of the performance, are you thinking about how many months or years she has spent developing her skill? Do you consider the exercise and physics which allow her to spin on her head? How about the fact that the head spin is one of the most recognizable moves in that style of dancing, and that while mastering takes much practice, the basics can be grasped by most beginners, which makes it impressive, but not extraordinary.  Most of us would not.  We just see something pretty awesome which is recognizable and complex.

Of course, if you were a break dancer watching the same performance, there might be different things on your mind. You would relate not only to the movement and music, but you would know in much greater detail, how it would physically feel to have performed. You would know which moves take more power, which ones take more skill, which ones take a long time to master, and for you, amazing would have a very different definition. You are experiencing the performance differently, both physically and psychologically than the non-dancer would.

When that sighted person sees someone blind walking across a street, they might as well have covered their own eyes and have attempted to find a bench, or a car, or to cross themselves. Of course they cannot do it, so it’s obvious that you could not do it either; not unless they themselves have some experience or exposure to blind people and how they navigate the environment without sight. They’re reaction will probably be panic, immediate assistance, wonder, and basically a lack of true empathy. It’s like asking someone with two left feet to do a head spin on their first try.

Most able bodied persons have little or no way to relate to people with disabilities. Unlike break dancers, we are not on TV, we are not in the workforce, and we many times hide from disclosure, acceptance and solidarity out of fear that we will face discrimination.

However, here is the societal twist: now imagine that you are watching a street performance of a man dressed in full ninja gear. I mean the works, he’s got a sword, the hoodie, and even those cool ninja boots. He places a blindfold over his eyes, picks up his sword and begins to chop watermelons, walk around and interact with the public, cross a busy intersection, block objects thrown in his direction, fight off attackers, climb a tree, ride a bike, shoot arrows at a target… Are you amazed? Is this an awesome and mystical street performance?

Is the point too subtle? What is it about the performance of this ninja mentioned above, which makes it extraordinary? He is using non-visual techniques to enhance his perception of the environment while his eyes are not being used. In other words, he is using techniques in his performance which most blind people use on a day-to-day basis to accomplish extremely ordinary things. All he has done is made a spectacle out of something which for many people is typical.

Yet we don’t see it that way. The man in ninja gear is a martial arts master, he has extra sensory perception, and he has reached this incredible state of being through the knowledge of forbidden ancient secrets.

The societal twist is this: while we are positively amazed at the martial artist for covering his eyes and giving us a great performance, we are filled with pity and unrequired sympathy for the blind person.

And as  envision the martial arts master as someone who has reached such a level of expertise that he can apply his skill with  his eyes closed, the general public imagines a blind person to be clumsy, feeble and in a constant state of helplessness.

We can’t read each other’s minds. This is the problem. Non-visual techniques are an every day thing for me, but for someone who is sighted, these techniques do not exist, they just perceive darkness and confusion. While these mirror neurons might be responsible for empathy, the feeling is a projection of our own understanding of the other person’s world. We recognize that when someone else eats, we are not the ones that are eating, but we understand the relationship that the other person has to food, through our relationship to food, our society’s relationship to food, and our openness to new experiences.

So, will that able bodied person ever stop hounding us to use their assistance? Not as long as we are not visible in society. The mechanisms are inherently in us for true understanding and communication among ourselves.  Now, we just have to work at becoming nothing out of the ordinary.

 

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