Child number two in a family with four children, I was born partially sighted. For as long as I can remember, this partial sightedness was never considered by me or by my nearest and dearest to be any kind of differentiator, and though my schooling was not the same as that of my siblings, I calibrated what it taught me with their learnings, and we always found a way to muck in together.
As a child, aspiring to total independence, I didn’t always appreciate that there were times when you could bluff it, but there were also times when you had to ‘fess up’ to having a disability, or as I now prefer to call it, ‘a difference’.
The creative adventurer
In adult life the same rules apply. Coping mechanisms around travel for instance; by substituting my inability to read the destination marked on the front of a train with a knowledge of different types of rolling stock normally means I get myself to the right place without assistance. Similarly, a seemingly photographic memory of where the lavatories are in all the pubs I have ever visited reduces the need to plead helplessness after a few beers.
Does it bother me to ask for help? Not in the slightest. The adventurer in me will normally lead by encouraging me to think of a creative coping solution, but the realist is equally happy taking over when I find myself in completely uncharted waters. Getting through an airport, hailing a taxi, establishing eye contact in a crowded bar are some of my most regular challenges. As long as I communicate clearly to those around me, all these things are surmountable, I get onto the right aeroplane, I find that elusive cab, and I manage to order that desperately needed drink.
Having spent my entire working life in people-centric roles, initially in sales, then in Recruitment/Executive Search and Coaching, I have thoroughly indulged a realisation that certain senses are better refined as a result of being partially sighted. Someone’s voice for example, or maybe even their scent are central to my powers of recognition.
Sometimes I have been caught out by what seems to the outside world to be a sixth sense, I once told a colleague that I could hear when a London cab had its orange light on, so he promptly bid me goodnight, and left me to curse my flippancy as I tried in vain to hail one. On another occasion during a networking event I went straight up to someone I had only ever spoken to on the telephone and greeted her like an old friend. I recognised her voice, and made the assumption that she would recognise mine. Realising that I had unsettled her, I quickly had to explain myself before we got back to a conventional starting point.
The confident performer
I find networking events extremely challenging, not because I’m shy, but because I can’t read people’s name badges, and therefore don’t feel in control, but again, there are always things that can be done to augment my ability to circulate, it’s simply a question of knowing when to ask for help.
It seems I draw attention to my disability when circumstances prompt; Is this a good thing? I think it can be argued both ways, but what it certainly doesn’t imply is an emotional response, or one driven by a sense of entitlement. In the aftermath of business pitch with a colleague he observed that ‘there is a certain amount of theatre surrounding your situation’. I had just followed him into a large boardroom with meeting participants interspersed with various obstacles. Happily my powers of navigation were such that there were no casualties, but it did add another level to the first impression we made on that client. You could say that my disability is at times undisclosed consciously, am I therefore discriminating against myself? What does this mean to the wider world, or within the context of Diversity and Inclusion (D&I)?
The authentic role model
The D&I landscape is being populated from all sides. Some themes are practically motivated and some are emotionally driven. What makes us wish to sing our individual situations from the roof tops, and what cautions us to tone them down and possibly even hide them from others.
The debate is an active one, and far more multi-faceted than many would give it credit for, but the important thing is to aspire to openness in the knowledge that realisation will breed a positive response.
I fully intend to use my partial sight, or ‘difference’ to walk the walk. I represent a willing and able band of brothers and sisters who with the right empathy and reception will augment your workforce and add to your D&I dashboard while doing so.