The Narrative Legacy of Blindness

“To everyone, I think, there is always something particularly pathetic about a blind man. Shorn of his strength and his independence, he is a prey to all the sensitiveness of his position and he is at the mercy of all with whom he comes in contact. The sensitiveness, above all, is an almost insuperable obstacle to cope with in his fight for a new life, for life goes on willy-nilly and the new conditions must be reckoned with. In darkness and uncertainty he must start again, wholly dependent on outside help for every move. His other senses may rally to his aid, but they cannot replace his eyesight. To man’s never failing friend has been accorded this special privilege. Gentlemen, I give you the German shepherd dog.”

 

Dorothy Eustis founder of “The Seeing-Eye” in Morristown, New Jersey

 

Well Dorothy, its raining in sympathy land. Tiny Tim leans on his crutch and weeps. Shorn of his strength and independence he’s at the mercy of weather. It should be noted, he meets no one. You see, Dorothy, no one sees the cripples. They’re just facts of rain, humanoid extensions of cruel nature. 

 

It is worse to be blind—eh Dorothy? The blind were shorn of free will, weren’t they? Until dogs came to save them. Gentlemen! 

 

“In darkness and uncertainty he must start again, wholly dependent on outside help for every move.” 

 

Oh the intoxication! The flapping of wings! 

 

Dorothy, admit it, even in your day one could scarcely find anyone—and I mean anyone—who was “wholly dependent on outside help for every move”. 

 

Dorothy metaphorized the blind as paralytics. And the dog, heroic, pulling the sled of sightlessness…

 

Sure, she wrote the words in 1928. But consider the narrative legacy of the blind, shorn of free will. Pilot Dogs, a guide dog school in Columbus, Ohio features prominently on its website: “Open your heart for closed eyes.” 

 

Oh Lord! Dorothy ain’t dead, she’s only sleeping. 

 

Blindness, a paralytic space, heartless, shorn of lovingkindness. Zoot Alors!

 

Not all guide dog schools wrap themselves in pathos. I’m fond of the mission statement from Guide Dogs for the Blind in California:

 

Guide Dogs for the Blind envisions a world with greater inclusion, opportunity and independence by optimizing the unique capabilities of people and dogs.

 

Nice. 

 

But pejorative cultural memories linger. The blind are still in a wind tunnel of figurative piteousness. 

 

And in the popular press every guide dog story is about dogs saving us.

 

The blind are not damsels in distress. We’re not tied to the railroad tracks of abjection.

 

Do dogs help some of us? You bet. But they help us because we’re trained to work in tandem. Dogs and blind people save six legged creatures. Gentlemen, I give you the canine-humanoid-dog-man.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

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Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

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