Row of iPhone 7s with various colors showing.

June 2017 marks the 10th anniversary of Apple’s iPhone. Yes, it’s been 10 years since Steve Jobs and Apple released to the world what would become a revolution. A revolution that was limited to the sighted at launch. But with the release of the iPhone 3GS in 2009, the blind and visually impaired community rejoiced in amazement at the implementation of the new screen reader called Voiceover.

Prior to the release of Voiceover on the 3GS, blind people were relegated to using very specific models of phones for accessibility. These phones didn’t offer that accessibility right out of the box, however. By the time you purchased the phone, a screen reader and then perhaps software to scan and read print documents, a blind person would spend a minimum of $2000. At that cost, you still didn’t get a fraction of the accessibility and functionality of the iPhone.

Enter Steve Jobs and Apple…

The 10th anniversary of the iPhone has inspired me to reflect on its history and how it has affected the blind community. The iPhone has brought accessibility to social interaction, navigation, text and image recognition, gaming and so many other parts of our digital daily lives. The implementation of so many of these services and the accessibility of so many apps has truly been a game-changer.

Through personal experience, research and the help of some friends, I’ve put together the following list. A top 10 list, broken down by category, that highlights how the iPhone has impacted the lives of the blind and visually impaired.

10. Portability

Ten years ago, Steve Jobs stressed the portability of the iPhone when he explained how it was so many devices in one. To be able to carry in your pocket an iPod, phone and internet device was indeed a revolution! This wasn’t just a big deal for the mainstream, however. Unlocking the iPhone’s potential for blind people was huge. Previously you could spend thousands of dollars between multiple devices just to achieve some of what the iPhone could do.

9. Going mainstream

The advent of the iPhone and its portability achieved something else for blind people. It included us within the mainstream of society. Not only did you not have to spend thousands on multiple devices, but you could purchase a mainstream device just like anyone else and have it work right out of the box. This also means blind users have access to the same safety and security as others through the use of ApplePay. That level of inclusiveness is a wonderful and powerful feeling!

8. Gaming

Games have been developed for blind people long before the iPhone came around. From the early text-based adventures to more modern audio games, there has always been a place for games amongst the blind community. But the iPhone has taken blind gaming to the next level. You can play everything from dice games like Dice World to card games such as those made by Blindfold Games. RS Games offers board games and there are even many 3D immersive audio adventures. And so much more.

There are developers who create their games with blind people in mind, and there are others who work hard to make sure their mainstream game is accessible as possible.

7. Books and Reference

The iPhone also makes it so much easier for blind people to access reference material. Using Safari or SIRI, you have instant access to the internet to research any topic you like. Plus there are apps for accessing text or audio books like Audible and BARD Mobile. There are accessible dictionaries and language translators.

6. Social Interaction

One of the other great things the iPhone does for the blind community is bring us together socially. Of course you can use your iPhone as just that, a phone. But there is a larger world out there. You can text message or even audio/video chat. And then there are apps like Twitter, Facebook and Vorail. You can connect with family and friends and even other blind people from around the world.

5. Audio Description

Games and books aren’t the only forms of entertainment that the iPhone makes accessible to blind people. Thanks to companies like Disney, Netflix and Apple themselves, movies and TV shows are just a tap away for the blind and visually impaired. These companies and others have made a commitment to providing descriptive audio tracks that play along with a movie or TV show. These tracks allow the blind person to know about things happening visually on the screen. Due to the efforts of these companies, access to described content has never been better.

4. News

The iPhone also provides many great ways for the blind and visually impaired to stay connected to local and world events. There are many apps, including Apple’s own News app, that can keep you up to date.

3. Navigation

Orientation and mobility are crucial in the life of someone who is blind or visually impaired. The iPhone offers the standard supplements for navigation like Apple’s own Maps app. However just as crucial are the various transit apps like Moovit that offer accessible bus and subway schedules. Then there are apps specifically designed for the blind like BlindSquare. This app offers real-time GPS information about your surroundings like street names, crossings and even nearby restaurants and businesses.

2. Utilities

Recognizing objects, text and currency can be some of the most difficult obstacles to a blind person. This is where the iPhone shines brightest as a tool for the blind and visually impaired! Using the iPhone’s camera, there are a number of apps to help in identifying things. NantMobile Money Reader is an app that can identify currency from multiple countries just by holding the camera lens up to the bill. Digit-Eyes is another app that can easily scan any UPC code and tell you the contents of what you scanned. Another utility that makes great use of the camera is the KNFB Reader. This app enables you to take a picture of any printed text and then reads it back almost instantly. There are many other utilities that help the blind with object and picture recognition. These include Be My Eyes and BeSpecular. These apps offer live volunteers who either through audio or text can help to identify photos or objects.

1. Accessibility

There isn’t one item listed within this post that would exist without the built-in accessibility of the iPhone. For those with low vision, there is Zoom and Magnifier. Zoom allows you to enlarge what is on screen for better viewing and the built-in Magnifier utilizes the iPhone’s camera to work like a traditional video magnifier by enlarging objects and text seen with the camera on screen.

Apple has also included the ability to invert as well as filter colors for those who have difficulty perceiving certain colors or who have issues with glare. And what about the color blind? Apple has even included filters to help those with different forms of color blindness.

And of course, there is Voiceover. By using certain gestures on the iPhone’s screen, Voiceover provides auditory descriptions of each element. This is what allows a blind person to navigate the web, reply to text or email messages, play games and use the other ground-breaking tools talked about in this post.

I’ve spoken to many blind and visually impaired persons who are eternally grateful to Steve Jobs and the development teams at Apple for their dedication to accessibility. A dedication that enables blind individuals by giving them independence and confidence, right out of the box.

Thank you Apple, for thinking of us. For helping us to be a part of the “mainstream,” and for continuing to believe that the blind and visually impaired community is worth continuing to fight for. Happy anniversary iPhone!

We want to hear your story. Become a Mighty contributor here.

Image via Apple.

RELATED VIDEOS


Disability advocates are criticizing the upcoming film ‘Blind’ for casting Alec Baldwin to play the role of a blind character.

The film, which is scheduled for release on July 14, follows Baldwin’s character, Bill Oakland, a novelist who loses his sight in a car crash. Oakland is later cared for by Suzanne Dutchman, played by Demi Moore, a socialite tasked with reading to him as part of a community service deal after her husband is indicted for insider trading.

“Alec Baldwin in Blind is just the latest example of treating disability as a costume,” Jay Ruderman, president of the disability rights group The Ruderman Family Foundation, said in a statement. “We no longer find it acceptable for white actors to portray black characters. Disability as a costume needs to also become universally unacceptable.”

“Blind” is far from the first movie to cast an able-bodied actor in a disabled role. Another new film, “Breathe,” stars Andrew Garfield, an able-bodied actor, as Robin Cavendish, one of the U.K.’s first disability advocates. Last year’s “Me Before You,” also starred an able-bodied actor, Sam Claflin, in the film’s leading role. 

In 2016, The Ruderman Family Foundation published a study which found that while nearly 20 percent of the country’s population lives with a disability, 95 percent of characters with disabilities are played by able-bodied actors.

While Baldwin himself is not blind, he did meet with blind men at The Lighthouse Guild, a healthcare center for the visually impaired, to prepare for the role.

Twitter users have joined Ruderman in speaking out against Baldwin’s casting in ‘Blind.’


Traveling with a guide dog means I get to hear some pretty interesting comments from the public. It also means I run into some pretty awkward and interesting situations as well. Here are seven commonly occurring comments, or situations I tend to encounter while I’m out and about that are truly annoying.

1.”I know she has her harness on and I can’t pet her, but…” *starts petting anyway*

How disrespectful can you get? This isn’t a situation where the individual is being ignorant and needs educating, this is a situation where the individual knows better and knows the rules, but chooses to disrespect them. To me, this person is saying “I know petting a guide dog while they have their harness on is a safety issue, but I don’t actually care.”

2. Parents who pull their kids away from us.

It’s common knowledge that parents as a whole don’t tend to do the greatest job at teaching their children about guide/service dogs, so naturally it’s us as the handlers who have to do that job for them. I personally love it when parents want me to explain about guide dogs to their kids. However, there’s a common reaction parents have when their kid starts petting my dog that I find somewhat troubling. When their kids start petting my dog and when I notice them, or when I try to educate them, the parents grab them and whisk them away with no explanation. It’s most likely out of fear (cause ya know, difference is just so damn scary — not) or embarrassment.

Really, don’t be embarrassed. Kids will be kids; we understand that and many handlers have children of their own too. Here’s why the above is such a pet peeve of mine, though… pulling your kid away with no explanation teaches fear and doesn’t open dialogue. My heart sinks every time this happens because not only is talking to kids one of the best parts of being a guide dog user, but a perfectly good opportunity to do some practical education to build awareness and break down the fear of difference. If you’re worried we’ll be angry — while I can’t speak for all guide dog users, most including myself wouldn’t be. With that said, remember, we don’t have to be open to doing the job you should be doing with regards to teaching your kids about guide dogs. It’s a choice that I and other guide dog users make. Take advantage of it and don’t treat us like we’re not on the same level as you are.

3. “Its OK if she sniffs me” or similar statements.

People seem to be quite bothered by the fact that as a guide dog, Izzy has certain rules that she needs to follow while out and about. Some of these rules also need to be enforced when her harness is off. A big one, while she’s on harness at least, is sniffing. Guide dogs can’t be sniffing while they are working because it distracts from their work. Not to mention that they aren’t supposed to greet a person while their harness is on, even if it’s just a little sniff. I am pretty strict with rules, and when I tell Izzy to “leave it” if she sniffs you, I mean it. If I have to give her a quick snap in the leash, I will do that too. You, as an individual who hasn’t been through the training, have no place to stick your nose in and say otherwise.

No, she’s not allowed to sniff you. I say so, her guide dog school says so and telling me otherwise promotes an all-too familiar discourse that individuals with disabilities are incompetent to make the appropriate judgements for themselves, a pet, a guide dog, or a child. Of course, when she’s off harness, she can sniff and say hello, but there are other rules that still need to be enforced. The biggest one is no eating food off the floor. Whether Izzy is on harness or off harness she is not allowed to eat food on the floor. Whether on or off harness people again tend to get pretty bothered by the fact that she receives a correction if she tries to, or does eat food off the ground. While you may think it’s fine to give your pet dog people food or an excessive amount of treats, it isn’t healthy for her. So when you say “but she’s just…” you’re disrespecting my authority and my choice to maintain a healthy guide dog.

4. Pet dogs not on leashes.

Having your pet dog off leash is extremely dangerous when not in a fenced area. It’s dangerous to your pet’s well-being and its dangerous to the well-being of service dogs too. Pet dogs that aren’t on leashes pose a serious risk of attacking or interfering with a service dog’s work.

5. Teasing my guide dog isn’t OK.

So now I’ve told you not to pet my guide dog while she’s working and explained to you why you can’t pet my guide dog while she’s working, but you’re getting in her face, making eye contact with her and doing that annoying squealing thing that people (including myself) tend to do when we see a cute animal. Relax, take a deep breath and stop. You’re not petting my dog, but you are intentionally teasing her and that’s not OK. You can comment on how cute she is, even go “aww,” but if possible, say it without getting in my dog’s face.

6. Whether my dog does something good or bad, there’s no need to stare.

Whether my dog is doing something pretty amazing like “finding” something for me, or something bad like pooping in the mall, it’s OK to be curious and look, but it isn’t OK to stand there and stare. It can be very anxietyprovoking when we’re trying to work with our dogs — to be in the process of praising them or correcting them and feel people’s eyes constantly on us.

7. Taking pictures of my guide dog without permission.

My friends with vision are constantly telling me about how people are taking pictures of my dog. Obviously being blind I have no idea this is happening. It has happened in the grocery store, the bank and restaurants among other places. I don’t really have a problem with people taking pictures of my dog, if they ask me first. Not asking permission is a total invasion of my privacy and something I don’t want happening while I’m trying to do my grocery shopping, or while I’m doing other things people usually do.

So there you have it, my top guide dog user pet peeves. I’m so fortunate to have a guide dog who is incredible at her job and loves to work as well. I hope learning more from the perspective of the person at the other end of the leash puts things into perspective. Too often the dog is seen and not the person who also makes up the team. It’s important to have respect for the dog, the handler and the guide dog team as a whole.

We want to hear your story. Become a Mighty contributor here.

Thinkstock image by Cylonphoto.


Self-driving cars, science fiction not so long ago, are here. Governor Andrew Cuomo announced in May that New York will join 13 states and the District of Columbia enacting regulations regarding autonomous vehicles. A driverless car may provide me with autonomy that has eluded me in my life as well. Autonomy to live in any location, to choose a profession, to navigate the world and “fit in.”

I was born with a condition called optic atrophy, in plain speak an underdeveloped optic nerve. On a good day, my vision is 80/20 with contact lenses. Without, everything beyond 10 feet or so is a furry mess. My eyes cannot focus normally and my eyes seem to shake in their sockets, one eye staring at something irrelevant while the other focuses. I am self-conscious about this and wonder whether I need to explain when I encounter someone for the first time.

Growing up, I developed coping mechanisms to deal with the day to day struggles of a person with low vision. I learned to memorize oral instructions quickly, plotted with my teachers to get me closer to the board and used large type materials when they were available. I knew the number of stops on the subway before I took a train journey as I struggled with signs at a distance. Baseball and tennis were out, soccer and basketball were in.

I was fortunate to be under the care of an ophthalmologist who was militant that I should not be treated any differently than other children. “This is the world you have to inhabit,” he told me often. “And this is the world you have to learn to navigate.” I would have to advocate for myself and not be afraid to do and try anything.

In spite of my impairment, I mostly succeeded in school, social, and work life. There were things I could never do though: fly a plane, apply for certain types of jobs, and get a driver’s license. I mostly lived in large metropolitan areas where public transportation was available, and I was fortunate enough to work in a field where employment was plentiful and easily reached without a car.

In our world, though, driving and owning a car is an integral part of growing up. Picking up a date on your bike does not have the same cache as pulling up in a Mustang. Traveling home after an evening out often meant long waits at subway or bus stops without any idea of when my chariot would arrive. When I met the woman who would later become my wife, she lived in Jackson Heights and I lived in Coney Island, opposite ends of New York City’s F line. Returning home late at night was a two-hour haul versus a 30 minute drive.

Having to explain to employers and acquaintances that you can’t just drive someplace to meet them involves embarrassing conversations. Despite the availability of mass transit in larger cities, it is frustrating to have to limit choices because of that. I share the complaint of many physically disabled people; the non-disabled just don’t get it and it is tiring to always have to explain.

In my mid-30’s, as a new father with a greater need to move greater quantities of diapers, stuffed animals and snacks, I discovered through an optometrist friend a program offered by New York State to provide driver’s licenses to low vision drivers. If this does not frighten you, it should. The idea of the Low Vision Driver Program was that using an adaptive device called a bioptic telescope, people with limited distance vision could qualify for a license. The device, a pair of glasses with a four power telescope mounted at the top of the right lens, would allow the wearer to focus on distant signs and objects and see them with the same acuity as someone who was not visually impaired. This seemed like a wish fulfilled and I eagerly got the device, completed a six-week training, and took my road test which I passed on the first go-through.

Despite the fact that I was a mature individual and now armed with a device that should even the playing field, I was concerned. Certainly I could read the signs and operate the vehicle, but was that enough? This apprehension was soon tested. I was driving on a country road that paralleled the twisting Delaware River on a lovely summer day. The sun was brilliant and the air was was warm and fragrant. I was tooling along alone on a road I was familiar with, having ridden it on my bicycle countless times and been a passenger more times than that, coasting down a hill where I would need to make a right hand turn at the bottom. I knew all this, yet started braking for the turn too late. The car went into a spin with squealing tires and trees flashing by my window. When I finally came to a stop, turned around and shaken, I said a prayer of thanks that I had come out unscathed. I took a deep breath and drove home, but I’ve never gotten behind the wheel again.

Perhaps this was an overreaction and I had just made a rookie mistake. I didn’t think so then and I don’t think so now. A responsible adult needs to weigh the consequences of their actions and where their convenience could affect the public good. I certainly wouldn’t drive intoxicated nor let anyone else. I began thinking of all of the things I could have missed and would continue to miss if I continued driving. It simply was not worth the risk.

It has been almost 25 years since that incident. In many ways, the world is a much easier place to navigate. There are a multitude of phone apps to erase the indignities I once felt. I no longer have to wait at bus stops wondering if the bus would ever come — Moovit lets me know exactly and I can schedule accordingly, Lyft is a much cheaper substitute for owning a car and probably more convenient. Google Maps ensures that I am (mostly) never lost and I don’t have to struggle to read street signs that always seem too small.

And then there are self-driving vehicles. The promise is just so tantalizing. Road fatalities will be drastically reduced as vehicles perform more predictably. A computer never experiences “road rage,” so traveling by car will be less stressful. Vehicles will use less fuel since they will be calibrated to accelerate and decelerate optimally. More parking spaces will be available since self-parking cars will use less space.

Ten years ago I might have thought this was the answer I had always been waiting for. Today, I am not so sure. I’ve learned to successfully navigate the world in so many clever ways that sometimes I pity those who are dependent on their cars. When I was a boy, frustrated by my inability to play baseball with my friends and making excuses to duck the game, my mother would say that she believed doctors would be able to fix my eyes in my lifetime. While that hasn’t happened, clever minds have conspired to sidestep the problem and provide a universal workaround to allow every ability to “fit in.”

We want to hear your story. Become a Mighty contributor here.

Thinkstock photo by Fodera72.


A few months ago, one of my officemates asked me to help her word an email. She pointed to her screen and asked if she was getting her point across. I responded, “Oh please, you know there’s no way I can see that!” She read the questionable wording out loud, and I provided my feedback.

She then chimed in, “Isn’t it a compliment I forget about your vision loss?” I paused, choosing my words carefully, and shared that although it is flattering that she does not see me as defined by my disability, my vision loss is a core piece of my identity that impacts how I live my life. My vision loss is central to my daily experience; it seems unfathomable that it is easily and frequently forgotten.

Many friends and family members have shared how unnoticeable my vision loss is to them. This is said wholeheartedly as a compliment. Although I recognize the good intentions, I no longer view this as a compliment. Candidly, I find it offensive.

I haven’t always felt this way. A few years ago, I would have enthusiastically responded “It is a huge compliment that you don’t see me as disabled!” I never aspired for my vision loss to become a part of my identity. Passing as sighted was a badge of honor.

Still, I continue to be sensitive to the ways in which my vision loss is apparent. I feel self-conscious when I spill, make jokes when I run into things, and try desperately to make it appear as if I’m making eye contact, even if I can’t see your face. Embedded in these lingering insecurities, there is a piece of me that is flattered when you say this is unnoticed. In that moment, I feel like perhaps I’m not that different; perhaps I can pass as sighted.

At the same time, I am and will likely always be disabled. I strive to be transparent about my vision loss, which requires me to put my shame aside, ask for help when I need it, and avoid minimizing the consequences of low vision. Confidence and comfort in my body’s abilities requires me to move past the brief glory of passing as sighted. It isn’t glorious to pretend to be someone I’m not, and it isn’t a compliment that you see me as someone I’m not. I am enough, even if I spill and run into things and cannot make eye contact. When you tell me that it’s a compliment that you don’t notice or remember these aspects of me, I receive the message that it is not flattering to appear disabled.

I challenge the notion that passing as able-bodied is flattering. I want it to be flattering to recognize the diverse spectrum of human ability.  Maybe one day, I’ll be afforded the compliment, “I could never forget your disability because it is a core part of your identity. It would be like forgetting your name, race, or gender. Your difference in ability makes you who you are, and I will forever notice you.”

We want to hear your story. Become a Mighty contributor here.


The teacher is passing out the classwork for the day, and there is a noticeable lack of large print or colored paper at the bottom of the pile. As it comes time to give classwork to my section, the teacher looks at me and goes “Oh shoot, I forgot you needed large print. Figure something out.” My best friend next to marks another tally on a list we call “times Veronica didn’t get her work”– in one class, we have over two dozen tallies.

I often leave the classroom to go enlarge my assignment, since I know that if I don’t, the teacher will give me a zero and remind me of how they wished I wasn’t in their class. Even though I have an IEP, and have had one since kindergarten for my low vision, that doesn’t seem to stop teachers from continuing to discriminate against me. I report this to my case manager or other staff member in the special education department, and they pretty much say the same thing each time:

“You’re so high functioning, it’s easy to forget about you!”

My parents and I are in an IEP meeting because I currently have a C, or a D, or a F in one of my classes. The teacher has repeatedly forgotten or refused to enlarge my work, saying it is a waste of resources. I have As in almost all of my other classes, Bs in a few of them. My parents are trying to figure out how an A student is getting such low grades, and why nothing is being done about it. But technically, Cs and Ds are passing, and the special education department says that everything is fine, after all:

“You’re so high functioning, we have other students to take care of!”

I need some additional resources in the classroom. I try to bring this up with special education staff both at my school and at the district level. Most of my requests are ignored, because I shouldn’t need the help. When people do appear from the district level, they are asking me questions about other students, or strictly talking about other students, saying that I am an easy case, they don’t have to worry about me, there are worse-off kids that deserve their time, and I am wasting their time. I realize that the only way I will succeed is if I figure it out myself, since they always tell me:

“You’re so high functioning, you don’t need our help!”

I’m a college student who is studying assistive technology and am waiting for a friend after a band performance. I’m holding my instrument, wearing sunglasses that block out the glare of the lights, and balancing my blindness cane in the other hand. While I’m waiting, a person I have never met walks up to me and starts asking a series of rude questions about my vision and how they had never met someone like me before. They do not stop talking to me, and get frustrated with me that I don’t respond. Later on, I am told to apologize and answer their questions, and their response is almost exactly what I expected:

“You’re so high functioning, that’s inspirational!”

My typical response to people calling me high functioning used to be saying “thank you, and so are you.” However, recently my attitude changed about this, and I realized I could replace the negative phrase with a more positive one. Despite the best efforts of school personnel, I have been able to see past the negative circumstances given to me and still succeed in school. I have discovered my passion for assistive technology and helping others to succeed. My condition is a major factor in my life, yes, but it isn’t the only thing in my life. I am not just high functioning:

“I am high achieving.”

We want to hear your story. Become a Mighty contributor here.

Thinkstock photo by Otto Kalman.

Real People. Real Stories.

8,000
CONTRIBUTORS
150 Million
READERS

We face disability, disease and mental illness together.