Typecasting is a troubling business for the disabled. Too often, people have preconceived ideas about disabilities, which leads to liberties being taken. Those who are blind, deaf or in a wheelchair are supposed to act a certain way. If they do otherwise, there is confusion, scepticism and even hostility.
I've encountered all during my decade of blindness and before that, being what visually impaired people call a 'partial' - shorthand for partially sighted. It's because of my gradual loss of vision that I've been able to more readily adapt to changed circumstances. That's been advantageous, but hasn't been well understood by family, friends and work colleagues. They sometimes think I can see things I can't.
At home, computer and television screen images are spoken about to me as if I have witnessed them. Newspapers and magazines are put in front of me in the office with the expectation that I will pore over them. I use a white cane to walk, yet fellow pedestrians bump into me, presumably believing that I will move out of the way. When I speak to people, I turn my face to where the sounds are coming from - leading to a perception that I can see.
I'm baffled by such responses. How is someone who is blind expected to behave? Should I look at the ceiling or floor or perhaps go cross-eyed when I'm engaged in face-to-face conversation? Would black-lensed glasses rather than the clear ones I wear for eye protection send a more obvious message? Perhaps a flickering neon sign attached to a hat saying 'BLIND MAN - TREAT ACCORDINGLY' would do the trick.
Crossing a street by myself invites unasked-for personal contact. Without seeking consent, a stranger will more often than not grab my arm and steer me to the other side, ignoring my protests. I fantasise it's someone of the opposite sex of ideal proportions wanting to meet the perfect partner, but sense it's someone of middle age or older doing a good deed. Truth be told, if I did the same to them, they would in all likelihood either dash off in startled alarm or turn to angry rectitude. They would have every right.
It seems the loss of one faculty also implies the departure of others. I've been spoken to as if I'm dim-witted, through a second person as if I can't hear, been offered to give a thumbprint as if I can't write my signature. Taxis whizz past me, their drivers presumably thinking that my cane is a weapon or an excuse not to pay a fare. The occasions I've been short-changed aren't many, but they have happened. One time, a HK$500 note was purposefully taken to be HK$100 and I protested. The bartender didn't own up and I left in a huff but, when I got outside, I found the note had been slipped into my jacket pocket.