The “Blind” Issue

What the sighted world often misunderstands about vision loss — and what I wish more people understood

Dear Fully Sighted World,

Most of what you believe about blindness and low vision is probably incomplete.

That’s not a criticism. It’s an education problem.

Most people are never taught what vision loss actually looks like. And those of us living with it don’t always explain it, either.

The result is confusion, awkward moments, Incorrect assumptions. And missed opportunities to understand one another.

My goal is simple: to help sighted people better understand vision loss, and to help people with low vision feel seen, understood, and empowered.

The Problem With the Word “Blind”

When most sighted people hear the word “blind,” they picture someone who sees nothing.

Dark sunglasses. Closed eyes. A white cane. Maybe Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder, or Andrea Bocelli.

Those images are real. But they represent only one part of a much larger picture.

Vision loss exists on a spectrum. Many people who are blind or legally blind still have some usable vision.

Some see light and shapes. Some see clearly in the center but not around the edges. Others have blurry or distorted vision. Some can read but cannot safely walk through a crowded room.

Blindness does not always mean darkness.

That misunderstanding is where many of the awkward moments begin.

When Expectations Don’t Match Reality

Picture this.

I’m walking through an airport with a white cane.

I may miss your black suitcase as you rush past me. I might not see the child sitting on the floor in front of me. I may bump into something that seems completely obvious to you.

Then I get through security, make my way to the gate, and tell the airline staff that I have low vision. I may board early because navigating a crowded jet bridge and finding my seat can be difficult.

Then I sit down and pull out my iPhone to read a message.

And I can almost hear the thought:

“Wait. Isn’t he blind?”

Yes.

I am legally blind.

But I am not totally blind.

I have a severely constricted visual field, often described as tunnel vision. I can see through a small central area, but most of what should be in my peripheral vision is simply not there.

That means I can still read. I can use technology. I can recognize faces at the right distance. I can travel independently.

But I may not see you standing beside me.

I may not notice the chair in my path.

I may not see the car approaching from the side.

And in unfamiliar or crowded places, my white cane is essential.

It protects me.

And sometimes, it protects you from me.

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 perfectly fair question.

The vision I still have can be corrected, just like anyone else’s. Glasses help me make the most of the sight I have left.

They don’t give me normal vision.

They simply make the vision I do have better.

Questions like that don’t offend me.

In fact, I welcome them.

I would much rather someone ask a sincere question than quietly make an incorrect assumption.

Most people aren’t insensitive. They simply haven’t had a reason to learn about low vision.

Even the People Who Love Me Forget

Sometimes, even the people closest to me forget.

My mom used to joke that she was my biggest hazard when we traveled because she would step directly in front of me or point at something I couldn’t possibly see.

It became a running joke between us.

And it illustrated something important.

When someone looks “normal,” it is easy to forget that they may experience the world very differently.

Low vision is often invisible until something happens.

Until I trip.

Until I walk past someone I know.

Until I fail to return a wave.

Until I accidentally bump into someone.

Until I ask for help with something that seems effortless to everyone else.

Seeing differently does not 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

Vision loss is becoming more common.

Johns Hopkins Medicine reports that low vision and blindness are expected to more than double over the next 30 years.

That means this issue may one day affect you.

Or your spouse.

Your parent.

Your child.

Your friend.

Your coworker.

Understanding vision loss changes the way we respond to people.

It replaces judgment with patience.

Confusion with understanding.

Awkwardness with conversation.

And assumptions with empathy.

The Solution

Education.

Conversation.

Human stories.

That is why I speak and write about life with vision loss.

I work with organizations, schools, community groups, and others who want to better understand what blindness and low vision actually look like in everyday life.

Not simply through statistics or medical definitions.

But through lived experience.

Because sometimes one story can explain more than a hundred statistics ever could.

The Light That Remains

Vision loss can be frustrating.

It can be isolating.

It can be lonely.

There are things I miss.

There are things I wish were easier.

But vision loss is not the end of a meaningful life.

It can also sharpen perspective.

Deepen gratitude.

Strengthen resilience.

Clarify what matters.

And reveal just how adaptable human beings really are.

People with low vision do not need pity.

We need understanding.

We need access.

We need patience when necessary and independence whenever possible.

And, like everyone else, we want to be seen for who we are — not simply for what we can or cannot see.

With a little more understanding from the sighted world, people with vision loss don’t just adapt.

We thrive.

Thank you for seeing us as we are.

Kevin McNally
kevinmcnallycontact@gmail.com

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.

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

Kevinmcnallyconnect@gmail.com