Kevin McNally

The “Blind” Issue

What the sighted world gets wrong about vision loss and what I wish more people understood

Dear Fully Sighted World,

Most of what you believe about vision loss is wrong.

That’s not a criticism. It’s a gap in education. Most people are never taught what low vision actually looks like, and those of us living with it often don’t talk about it openly.

The result is confusion. Awkward moments. Incorrect assumptions. And missed opportunities for understanding.

Meanwhile, the number of people living with vision loss continues to rise. My goal is simple:

to help the fully sighted understand, and to help those with low vision feel seen, understood, and empowered.

The Problem With the Word “Blind”

When most sighted people imagine someone who is blind, a very specific picture comes to mind. Dark sunglasses. Closed eyes. A white cane. Maybe Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder, Andrea Bocelli.

Those images are real, but they represent only a narrow slice of reality.

In truth, vision loss exists on a spectrum. Most people who are legally blind still have usable vision. Only about ten percent have no light perception at all. The rest of us see something.

That’s where the confusion begins.

When Expectations Don’t Match Reality

Because most people assume blindness means seeing nothing, they’re surprised when someone like me doesn’t fit that expectation.

Picture this. I’m in an airport, using a white cane so others know I don’t see well. I might miss your black suitcase as you rush past. I might trip over a child sprawled on the floor. Hopefully, you’ll realize it wasn’t intentional.

At security, I’m directed to the assistance line. My ID is checked. I head toward my gate. I let staff know I have low vision. I’m often boarded early. As I wait, I can feel the looks.

Then I pull out my phone to check a message.

I know what some people are thinking.

“Wait. Isn’t he blind?”

The answer is simple. I’m legally blind, not totally blind.

I have severely constricted central vision, often called tunnel vision. Imagine looking through a narrow tube while everything outside that circle disappears. That’s how I see the world.

I can read. I can use technology. I can travel independently. But because my peripheral vision is gone, I rely on my cane, especially in unfamiliar or crowded spaces. It protects me, and it protects you.

Questions I Don’t Mind Answering

One of the most common questions I hear is,

“Why do you wear glasses if you’re blind?”

It’s a fair question.

The vision I still have can be corrected, just like anyone else’s. Glasses help me make the most of what remains. They don’t restore full vision, but they matter.

Questions like this don’t bother me. They’re chances to explain what low vision actually means. I don’t blame anyone for being confused. Most people have simply never been taught.

Even the People Who Love Me Forget

Sometimes, even friends and family forget I have low vision.

My mom jokes that she’s my biggest hazard when we travel because she’ll step right in front of me or point at things I can’t see. When someone looks “normal,” it’s easy to forget. Until something happens.

Seeing differently doesn’t mean seeing nothing. It means moving through the world with different rules, different risks, and sometimes, a need for help.

One day, that help might come from you.

Why This Matters

According to research from Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, new cases of low vision and blindness among adults over 45 are expected to double over the next thirty years.

Translation: this may one day affect you, someone you love, or someone you work with.

Understanding what vision loss really is and isn’t changes how we treat one another. It replaces judgment with patience. Confusion with empathy. Discomfort with awareness.

The Light That Remains

Vision loss is not the end of a meaningful life.

It can be frustrating. Isolating. Lonely.

But it can also sharpen perspective, deepen gratitude, and clarify what truly matters.

With a little understanding from the sighted world, people with low vision don’t just adapt. We thrive.

Thank you for seeing us as we are.

Kevin McNally

Kevin@kevinmcnally.us

The Solution

Education. Conversation. Human stories.

I speak, write, and engage with organizations, schools, and communities to change how vision loss is understood and experienced. Not through statistics alone, but through lived reality.

About the Author

Kevin McNally is a musician, lawyer, traveler, communicator, and advocate living with low vision. Known for his grounded optimism and candid storytelling, Kevin shares practical insight into the everyday challenges and unexpected clarity that come with vision loss. His work resonates with anyone navigating major life transitions.

Kevin is the Immediate Past President of the Lions Low Vision Centers of Connecticut and Vice President of the Marlborough, Connecticut Lions. He regularly speaks about building a full, meaningful life while seeing differently.

To contact Kevin directly:

Kevin@kevinmcnally.us

Send Kevin an email HERE 

My name is Kevin McNally. I was diagnosed shortly after birth with Retinitis Pigmentosa, a rare degenerative retinal condition. I also live with glaucoma and early-stage cataracts.

Living with uncertainty about how much vision I may lose, or when, has sharpened my focus on what truly matters. Over time, I’ve learned that happiness isn’t found. It’s created. Motivation doesn’t just appear. It’s built, one day and one choice at a time.

As a musician, traveler, lawyer, speaker, and communicator living with low vision, I’m deeply passionate about helping others understand what vision loss really looks like in everyday life. My goal is simple: to inspire people to live with purpose, resilience, and gratitude, regardless of the challenges in front of them.

I’m grateful to share that journey with you.

If you’d like to explore how I can help you navigate life’s challenges and its unexpected gifts, you can reach me at

Kevin@kevinmcnally.us