Clarifying my vision

I qualify as being legally blind. According to the Massachusetts Association for the Blind and Visually Impaired, this means that I have “central visual acuity (vision that allows a person to see straight ahead of them) of 20/200 or less in his or her better eye with correction.”

But I can still see lots of things — colors, shapes, faces and TVs (if I’m close enough). Sometimes when I tell people I have low vision, they respond that they would have never guessed this had I not said something. Others say that it’s easy to ascertain that I have vision problems by just being around me for a few moments.

When people ask me about how well I can see, I find it challenging to give them a simple answer. Definitions like the one above are inexact, and there’s no static point of reference to compare my unique eyesight to. On top of this, my visual acuity changes depending on lighting, weather, mental state, and numerous other factors. Add to that my lifelong propensity to minimize and even deny my visual impairment, and I have this massive, emotionally triggering, socially charged part of my life that’s really difficult to explain and that I would usually prefer not to talk about.

In recent years, I have worked hard to combat this stigma, embrace my blindness, and integrate it into my identity. This is an ongoing journey, and if you’re interested, I invite you to come along with me for part of it in this series of articles I’m calling Blind Sight. In these posts, I will try to unpack and articulate different aspects of my vision disability and how it shapes the way I interact with the world around me. I’m hoping this exercise will help clarify my thinking as well as build understanding and empathy with members of the blind and visually impaired community.

Step by step: climbing stairs

My three-year-old nephew and I both have congenital nystagmus, which does a number on our depth perception. A few weeks ago, my sister and I were talking about how he navigates climbing up and down stairs. Since he is still too young to articulate his perspective on this, my sister asked me how I perceive and approach staircases with low depth perception in hopes of better understanding her son’s experience. This led to an interesting conversation that is helping me think through my own challenges and “missteps” with stairs.

First off, it might be useful to know that climbing up stairs is much easier than going down a staircase. Even when I cannot tell exactly how deep the next raised horizontal flat space is, I can usually gauge its height and determine the minimum distance to lift my feet to climb to it. This is especially true when the vertical distance between steps remains constant. Modern building codes provide regulations for the length of stair risers and depths, as well as stipulations to ensure consistency in vertical distance between steps. For instance, stairs in Massachusetts state buildings must be at least 9 inches deep and no more than 8.25 inches higher than the previous step. This gives me a sense of confidence that when I start climbing a staircase, I can safely assume that the space between each step will be the same. I can then shift my focus to counting the number of steps and watching for the landing at the top of the flight.

Stairs in older buildings or carved into natural structures may not adhere to code and have different heights. These typically require additional concentration for me to navigate.

Walking down stairs can be a different story (ugh). When looking down a flight of stairs with limited depth perception, the vertical distance between steps can be indistinguishable. Unless I have walked down a staircase enough times to memorize the number of steps and the space between them, I rely on several mechanisms to augment my vision and ensure a safe descent.

• Handrails: Feeling for and using a handrail can provide stability and me maintain balance while giving me a good idea of the slope of the staircase.
• Color Contrast: Visual contrast between the stairs and the surrounding area can make them more noticeable. For example, using contrasting colors on the edges of steps can help me distinguish between them.
• Counting Steps: Memorizing the number of steps and the layout of a staircase can help me navigate without relying solely on vision.
• Listening for Auditory Cues: Paying attention to sounds such as creaks, echoes, or other changes in the environment can provide cues about the presence and proximity of bottom of a staircase.
• Physical Texture: Sometimes the edge of each step, or the top and bottom of a staircase will feel different from their adjacent surfaces. This can be a helpful indicator in judging the presence of a drop to the next step or the start and end of a flight.
• Other Visual Clues: Sometimes observing the cut of the stairs against the wall or material along which they run can help me gauge the distance between them. Shadows and other lighting effects can also assist with discernment, but these factors are less reliable as the presence and brightness of light sources can change throughout the day and night.
• Following Someone Down the Stairs: When I’m going down an unfamiliar staircase, one of the most effective sources of help is watching the feet of someone descending the steps in front of me. The way a person bends their knees and the rate at which the go from step to step provides wonderful information about the characteristics of the staircase. If I can match the person’s speed and gait, I can quickly get a feel for the stairs and descend them with confidence. Often, the individual in front of me doesn’t even know how much they have helped me, and I don’t often get the chance to express my appreciation due to being in a rush or the awkwardness of talking to a stranger. So bear in mind, if you ever notice someone closely trailing you down a staircase, they might literally be following in your footsteps (and not stalking you).