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According to the 2017 Current Population Survey, about 2 million working-age Americans (ages 16-64) reported being blind or having trouble seeing. Of these 2 million Americans, only 35% had a job, compared with 70% of working-age Americans without disabilities. Even more concerning, only 39% of the blind Americans were in the labor force at all-meaning they were either employed or looking for work-compared with 73% of the working-age Americans without disabilities. So, a huge chunk of the blind working-age population in this country is not only unemployed, but also not looking for work. These numbers have changed little in response to the passage of laws like the Americans with Disabilities Act, or the proliferation of accessible computers allowing blind people to perform many more jobs independently.

My colleagues, Edward Bell and Mary Ann Mendez from Louisiana Tech, and I wanted to investigate the employment experiences of blind Americans from all three camps: those who are working, those who are looking for jobs, and those who are out of the workforce. We wanted to find out what helped the successfully employed workers find their jobs. We also wanted to find out what factors are keeping so many blind Americans unemployed or completely out of the workforce.

We sent an online survey to 559 Americans who are legally blind and at least 18 years old. I will say up-front that this was not a representative sample. Most of the respondents came from email listservs sponsored by blindness consumer organizations or other blindness-related networks. The people in these online networks tend to be more educated than the population as a whole; in our sample, 68% had at least a bachelor’s degree, and 36% had at least a master’s degree. This sample also consisted of individuals who had been blind for a relatively long period of their lives and who were well-connected with services and organizations. Despite the differences between our sample and the blind population as a whole, our sample gives us a look at some of the barriers that still affect blind people who have had a high level of education and training.

On the survey, we asked the participants if they were either (1) working for pay currently; (2) looking for a job; or (3) out of the labor force. We then asked each group different follow-up questions to learn more about their experiences. For the participants who were working, we asked them to describe their jobs and what resources helped them obtain their jobs. For the participants who were looking for a job, we asked them how long they had been looking, what resources they were using, and whether they had encountered discriminatory treatment recently in their job search. For the participants who were not in the labor force, we asked them why they were not looking for a job. The participants answered a combination of multiple-choice and short-answer questions to share their experiences with us. I will describe some of our most interesting findings here.

First, about half of the participants said they had a job of some sort-either full-time, part-time, or self-employment. Overall, the participants were fairly happy with their jobs and described getting good pay, benefits, and opportunities for promotion. The biggest factor that helped these participants find their jobs was networking: 40% found their job through networking with professional colleagues; 36% through networking with relatives or friends, and 20% through networking with previous colleagues, for example. (Participants could choose more than one resource). In addition, 20% said that a vocational rehabilitation (VR) professional helped them find their current job. Relatively smaller numbers of participants reported using traditional job-searching resources like job boards or recruiters to find their current job.

Second, about one-fourth of the participants were looking for work. The participants had been looking for an average of 18 months, and on average, they reported applying for about 5 jobs per month, but receiving less than one interview per month. Many of the participants described difficulties obtaining job offers, which were directly related to their blindness. For example, about one-third of the jobseekers said that they had to forgo a recent job opportunity because the posting required a driver’s license (even though the job itself did not require driving as a job duty) or because they didn’t have transportation to get to the job site. Others described strange reactions from interviewers; for example, an interviewer being enthusiastic toward them over the phone, and then acting awkward and distant when the applicant arrived in-person with their white cane. Another participant said they met with a recruiter who kept going on about how blind people have great “intuitive senses” and suggested taking classes to become a psychic. The participant wrote, “He spent more time talking to me about psychics than about a job. I found this very demeaning.”

Third, about one-fourth of the participants said they were not working and not looking for work-in other words, they were out of the labor force. Of course, some of these participants were retired or in school (as in the general population). However, others reported not looking for work because of transportation barriers where they live, because of health issues in addition to blindness, or because they were worried about losing disability benefits if they worked part-time.

Finally, we asked all the participants (even the retired ones) to reflect on various resources throughout their working lives, and to tell us how much each resource helped them with employment. They also rated how much a series of barriers interfered with their employment. The participants rated assistive technology, comprehensive blindness training, and resume/cover letter training as the three most helpful resources; traditional resources like recruiters, job developers, and career fairs were rated as relatively unhelpful. The top three barriers were transportation, trouble finding jobs in one’s area of expertise, and inaccessible job applications or screenings.

There are a few important takeaways from these data. On the positive side, networking is a powerful tool that can help individuals overcome employment barriers. Networking is important for jobseekers more generally; however, it may be especially vital for blind jobseekers. Colleagues who know the person’s strengths can help advocate for their potential and overcome employers’ doubts about hiring a blind person. Networking was more effective than conventional job-search resources in helping people secure good jobs. VR is also a valuable resource, but its impact seems to come from indirect supports (purchasing technology or funding training) rather than from direct job placement. VR programs may wish to focus more heavily on assisting clients with building up their professional networks.

Furthermore, transportation is a huge problem. A lack of affordable, efficient transportation limits blind jobseekers’ options and can lead to discouragement and withdrawal from the workforce. We live in a very car-centric country, where public transportation may not be efficient, accessible, or available at times when workers need it. Research is ongoing to develop individualized programs that can help blind jobseekers make transportation plans to get to and from work. However, to really solve this problem, we need to work with our local and state governments and private transportation companies (like ridesharing companies) to make non-driving options available to every American at an acceptable pricepoint. Other barriers include employer ignorance about blindness, inaccessible job applications, and discriminatory job posting wording, such as job postings asking for a driver’s license. There is a need for better training and enforcement to ensure that job postings are written to truly welcome all qualified applicants. These barriers can challenge jobseekers who are highly educated and well-connected, as in our sample. It will be important to conduct further research to learn about the experiences of blind people from other demographic groups, particularly those who are newly blind.

Overall, we know that good employment is attainable for blind people in this country. But right now, it’s not yet available to every blind American. Let’s work together to open up the possibilities.

Citation: Silverman, A. M., Bell, E. C., & Mendez, M. A. (2019). Understanding the employment experiences of Americans who are legally blind. Journal of Rehabilitation, 85:1, 44-52.

Download the full article here

On April 26, 2003, I went to see the new Adam Sandler movie with my two best friends, who happen to be blind. Then, it was time for me to get ready for my senior prom. My mom painted my nails, and helped with my makeup. My prom date happened to be the other blind student at my school. We weren’t a couple, but we were friends, both single, and both interested in going to prom. So, his dad picked me up, we exchanged the customary flower arrangements. We went out to dinner, went to the dance, had fun dancing and meeting each other’s group of friends. It was a fun night, something I still remember, but certainly nothing worth making the news.

Two kinds of disability prom experiences have been making the news in recent years. One is the “night to shine” annual event sponsored by the Tim Tebow Foundation since 2015. On February 8, 2019, 655 churches around the world hosted all-expenses-paid “special needs proms” exclusively for teens and young adults with disabilities. The “honored guests” with disabilities were treated to a night of glamor, dancing, and celebration. But, these guests could not choose who would accompany them on this special night. Instead, they were matched with nondisabled volunteer “buddies” who escorted them to prom.

The second disability-related prom experience I hear about is the public “promposal” in which a nondisabled teen asks an obviously disabled classmate to the prom. Not only does the promposal go viral on social media, but it is often accompanied by stories featuring the beauty and selflessness of the nondisabled promposer. The disabled student’s side of the story is often lost. Sometimes, the prom couple is then voted prom king and queen by the student body, merely because one member of the couple is disabled. Or, we might read about two disabled teens taking each other to prom, and automatically getting voted prom king and queen. The one twist we never see, though: a disabled teenager doing the promposing, asking their crush to the prom, and getting an authentic “yes” in response. That would be a video I could actually enjoy watching.

People like hearing about the Night to Shine events, and watching the promposals. Most ordinary people feel happy about the idea of disabled teens getting to experience prom if they want to. And, there are a multitude of reasons why some disabled teens might miss the chance to attend their high school prom. But, neither the Night to Shine events nor the one-off promposals from kind nondisabled teens really address the systemic barriers between disabled teens and their high school proms.

What can we do, as individuals and as a society, to make proms and related experiences truly inclusive to disabled youth? The real answer is not sexy, it’s not news-worthy, it’s certainly not generative of a social media meme.

Let’s examine the chain of events that enabled me to connect with my own prom date in high school. He and I had the same teacher of the visually impaired (TVI) and the same orientation and mobility (O&M) instructor. Our teachers arranged activities and lessons that we attended together with other blind students throughout the school district. We spent time together sharing common experiences and challenges, and this enabled us to develop an organic friendship which eventually led to our decision to go together to the prom.

I have no objection to the idea of holding exclusive events for youth with disabilities; in fact, as I’ve written before, I work with a program for blind youth where all the youth and mentors are blind. There is a great deal of value in such programs, which can bypass all kinds of participation barriers found in mainstream settings. We’ve seen the magic of relationships (both platonic and romantic) arising out of our program, and the impact those relationships are having on our students’ lives. In contrast, the segregated Night to Shine approach isn’t focused on developing lasting relationships between the participants. Instead, it’s simply focused on giving the participants a fleeting night of fun. The only relationships built are paternalistic ones between a disabled youth and a nondisabled “buddy.” To create the kind of social change we are seeking, we need to put the factors in place so that disabled youth can build meaningful relationships-whether with other disabled youth, or with their nondisabled neighbors and classmates. Because really, relationships are what the prom experience is all about.

Real, organic, reciprocal relationships can’t be engineered, not even by social psychologists. But we can identify factors that tend to encourage attraction. Research shows that two of the most important ingredients for relationship making are proximity and similarity. Proximity refers to how often people share the same physical space. The “proximity principle” explains why people are most likely to befriend or date individuals who live, study, or work near them. Similarity, meanwhile, can involve any shared trait, interest or experience. For example, examination of marriage records has shown that people are more likely to marry others who have similar names or initials than would be expected by chance.

In order to allow disabled youth to experience the joys of prom night, we need to start years before they’re old enough to go to prom. We need to put the conditions in place so that disabled people of all ages can fully access real, organic, two-way relationships. This starts by making spaces accessible so that disabled people can learn and play in close proximity to their peers with and without disabilities. And, instead of making a fus about programs that highlight the differences between disabled and nondisabled youth, we need to provide opportunities for disabled youth to find peers who share similarities with them-whether those peers have disabilities or not.

So, let’s think about how we can make the daycare centers and the playgrounds fully inclusive so kids with and without disabilities can build connections through play. Let’s work to include disabled kids not just in the “least restrictive” classroom, but also in the cafeteria in elementary school and the drama club in high school. Let’s nurture disabled students’ natural strengths and interests so they have something to share with their peers and aren’t just takers in their friendships. Let’s work on creating programs for disabled youth to interact with one another, that are run by disabled adults who have firsthand experience with the populations they serve. And, by all means, let’s work on the proms themselves. Let’s make sure everyone can fit through the door, that people with differing sensory or physical needs have access, that people who don’t dance on their feet can still dance, that the presence of disabled students at the prom can become the ordinary sight it should be.

I do hope that someday, the Night to Shine proms will become obsolete. Someday, a disabled teen being promposed to, or promposing, will be so ordinary that no one will think to pull out a video camera. Then, disabled youth can claim respect, not just for a night, but for a lifetime. Let’s make it happen.

For further reading: Let’s Talk About So-Called ‘Special Needs Proms’ Inspiration Porn Goes to the Prom Pity and the Prom

“This is the problem, as I see it: when something is invented or created as a temporary access solution even though it is far from perfect, too often the real solution is placed on the back burner. It becomes like, yeah, well, it’s better than nothing, so the permanent ramp isn’t placed, correct captions are not developed, appropriate class supports are not implemented.”

I feel like every other week, somebody is sending me an article about some new gadget for blind people. Often it’s some kind of “smart” cane, or some device that can generate braille on the fly. When I open the article, I often find out this is in the prototype stage. My reaction almost always is, “Call me back when this has completed beta testing. And, when the price is less than three months of Social Security Disability.”

Don’t get me wrong, assistive technology is great-once it’s been shaped by multiple iterations of disabled user testers. And, it’s even better when people can purchase it without relying on government bureaucracies to buy it for them. But, as the below post illustrates, half-baked assistive tech can be worse than no tech at all. It can give people a false sense of confidence that they’ve met their obligations for accessibility. And, it can lead to disappointment and frustration for users. Meriah Nichols, who is deaf, writes about two attempts to give D/deaf people information access: gloves that can translate sign language into speech, and automated video captions. Meriah explains how the technical limitations of both solutions can undermine accessibility for D/deaf people by detracting efforts from true permanent accessibility. It is also clear that a technology which seems helpful at first glance could be useless, or even harmful, to the target population. For example, without an understanding of how American Sign Language works, a “sign-to-speech” glove might seem reasonable; it’s only after understanding the gestural complexities of ASL that it becomes evident how error-prone such a device could be. The bottom line is that disabled people must be integral at all stages of development for any innovation meant to benefit our lives.

… About those Sign-to-Speech Gloves

Earlier this week, my colleague Lisa Handelman and I presented at the Judaism, Science, and Medicine Group annual conference. In honor of Jewish Disability Awareness and Inclusion Month, I wanted to share our presentation, which builds on the five stages of inclusion that I described back in December, and adds a Jewish touch.

Download the presentation here

“With the right strategies and understanding in place, most autistic people can thrive. Without them, life can be incredibly difficult, and much of what we have to give to the world gets lost. I wouldn’t change very much about my brain — I mostly like being who I am. I would, however, like to change many things about this world and how it deals with people who think differently.”

Autistic people are often misunderstood. Clinical models of autism often focus on the outward behaviors of autistic people, emphasizing their inferiority to neurotypical behavior patterns. When this happens, autistic people’s inner experiences often get lost, and neurotypical partners may lose sight of the ways in which they can best support autistic people in their lives. While the below account is just one autistic person’s experience, much of it is consistent with research (cited at the end). Specifically, Oolong describes how “monotropism” (attending to a few interests or concerns at a time) could explain some of the characteristic strengths and challenges exhibited by autistic individuals. Reading this account may help us to consider how supports, such as allowing more time for task transitions or greater control of the sensory environment, could greatly improve the quality of interactions between autistic and non-autistic people.

Starting Points for Understanding Autism

Me and Monotropism: A Unified Theory of Autism