Unsolicited Sighted Helpers: The Six Most Common Types and How to Deal with Them
My methods are effective—only one has ever told me to go die
Listen to me read this post on the Deep Sy podcast.
Quick note up top: starting next week, I’m making a change in what I’m publishing at Deep Sy. I’m still going to be sending you these stories and the accompanying podcast every other week. But on the alternate weeks, I will be posting podcast episodes that expand on what I’m doing here. The first will be based on a listener’s question from the survey I recently sent out (which only has one required question and you should fill it out to inspire more episodes!), and I have some very fun ideas for things to come after that. These alternate-week podcasts will only be available to paid subscribers. Unfortunately, writing 1500 words or more (a lot more, in this week’s case), and making those words high-quality is taking up a little too much of my freelancer time. So this new plan will allow me to keep putting out things I think, based on your feedback, you will enjoy just as much, while making a little more wiggle room in my schedule. Thank you so much for your understanding! And now, without further ado, this week’s story!
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Blind people, you know how it is. You’re walking along somewhere in public. You know exactly where you are and where you’re going. You’re minding your own business, and along comes a sighted person who is 100% certain you are in dire need of their help getting somewhere. What do you do? By which I of course mean how do you get rid of them?
I’ve been the target of these people for almost 20 years, ever since I first used a white cane. I have a lot of stories and wisdom to share.
This is my guide to the six most common types of unsolicited sighted helpers: the simple question asker, the random information provider, the distance shooter, the clinger, the grabber, and the panic screamer. As you and I both know, the provision of unrequested help is endless. And therefore, so is the threat of it coming at any moment. The information is useless, the assumptions are condescending, and the whole thing is exhausting. So I’m going to tell you how I deal with these six types efficiently while also trying to have a good time along the way because we deserve that. Hopefully this will provide a jumping-off point for your own ideas about how you might respond to these unwelcome intruders.
1. The Simple Question Asker
Let’s start with the most basic type: the person who just walks up and asks if you need help finding something. Many times a brief, “No thanks” will do the trick. But for whatever reason, many sighted people seem uncomfortable directly asking whether you need help, or asserting that they believe they can provide that help. Their questions when they approach you will beat around the bush.
“Which way are you headed, sir?” I give them a small smile and say, “This way,” pointing straight ahead in the direction I’m walking. They usually either leave or continue the conversation knowing that there’s a possibility of me messing with them a little. A lot of people chuckle at themselves. If they do, I know I may have just met a teachable new friend.
Another variant. Just after law school, I worked in lower Manhattan. Every day, I walked from a subway station down the street to where the courthouses are. I wore a suit, carried a briefcase, and walked among many other besuited briefcase carriers. Occasionally, one of them would ask me, “Where are you going sir?”
The answer: “Work. Where are you going?” Again, fun people will get it and laugh at themselves. Maybe even join the joke, saying, “Me too. What are the odds?” I give myself full permission to let everyone who isn’t fun go on their confused and/or annoyed way. They’ll be fine.
The idea is this: if they don’t directly ask whether I want them to help me get somewhere, I directly answer whatever evasive question they asked instead. Since we both know what they were actually asking, my unexpected answer provides an opportunity for them to reflect on their discomfort. And my readiness to engage in some light verbal jousting can clue them in that I’m not really in need. Some hypothetical examples:
Q: How can I help?
A: That depends. What would you say are your strongest skills?
Q: What are you looking for, sir?
A: Oh, I can’t actually look for things. You see, I’m blind. That’s why I have this cane.
Q: What do you need, boss?
A: (suddenly emotional) Now that you ask, I think the honest answer is… love.
2. The Random Information Provider
This is the person, usually a man, who, with no prelude, spontaneously says directional information at me as they walk by. Something like, “You just crossed 93rd Street, and you’re heading downtown on Broadway.”
Truthfully, I just thank these people politely and move on. They tend to stop bothering me after that since, I assume, they believe they have done their good deed for the day.
But I do spend the next block or so thinking about that person’s assumptions. They thought it was possible I was nonchalantly strolling alone down the sidewalk knowing neither what street I was on nor which direction I was going. And I was not bothering to find out. Maybe I was crossing my fingers and hoping I ended up in a pleasant destination.
So for those a little braver than me, next time you encounter a random information provider, maybe try this strategy I thought of years ago but never implemented: act as uninformed as they assume you are.
Sighted Person: You just crossed 93rd Street, and you’re heading downtown on Broadway.
Me: Broadway??? Oh no! What happened to First Avenue?!
Sighted Person: Uh, sir, First Avenue is all the way on the other side of Manhattan.
Me: MANHATTAN??? OH NO!!!
Sighted Person: (Sounding very worried now) … Where did you think you were? The Bronx?
Me: (panicking) PHILIDELPHIA! THAT’S WHERE I WAS THIS MORNING! HOW DID I MISS NEW JERSEY???
Hopefully at this point they will take the hint and leave.
3. The Distance Shooter
This type is similar to the random information provider. The differences are they shout at me from far away, and they provide both random directional information and specific instructions about what I should do next. I can ignore this type, or give them a wave to let them know I heard them. But often, they are persistent. They are the type most dedicated to the notion that they have information I need immediately, which is why they’re yelling at me in the first place.
On the walk from the subway to the courthouses I mentioned earlier, there was one particular crosswalk where a crossing guard stationed there for children heading to school yelled at me on a regular basis. I always approached the crosswalk from the opposite end of where she stood. Starting when I was about 20 or 30 feet from the street, I would hear her yell at the top of her lungs from across two lanes of New York City Rush Hour traffic, “STOP!!! YOU’RE AT THE STREET! THE LIGHT IS RED! YOU NEED TO STOP!” Or something similar.
Most days, I turned and crossed in the other direction (a direction I had to go eventually anyway) to avoid interacting with her further. But there was one morning when, for whatever reason, I decided enough was enough.
I approached the crosswalk. She started yelling, but I did not turn. I stood at the corner in a little crowd of 8 or 10 other commuters waiting to cross until she finished.
Then I put my white cane under my arm, cupped my hands over my mouth, and, in a very polite, almost deferential tone, BELLOWED back across the street.
“HEY, WOULD IT BE ALRIGHT IF YOU STOPPED SCREAMING AT ME EVERY MORNING? I DON’T LIKE IT VERY MUCH WHEN PEOPLE SCREAM AT ME. AND IT ISN’T VERY HELPFUL BECAUSE I ALREADY KNOW THIS CROSSWALK IS HERE. SO IF YOU WOULDN’T MIND, I’D REALLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU STOPPED SCREAMING AT ME.”
There was no response. People around me chuckled appreciatively. The light changed, and we crossed. I must have passed right by her but I don’t know because she didn’t say anything. I never heard a word from her again.
You can also build up community defenses against distance shooters, at least in the places you frequent.
Recently, when I was walking just outside the bodega around the corner from my building, there was a delivery bike parked in my path. I knew it was a bike because I hit its wheel with my white cane and felt the cane’s tip xylophoning along the spokes. Just then, a woman from about 50 feet back yelled to warn me about the bike. As I started moving around it, she yelled again. But not at me this time, at the guys sitting outside the bodega.
These were the guys who are always sitting outside the bodega. I know them, a couple by name. They have offered me help countless times. But I’ve declined enough, and they’ve seen me navigating the neighborhood enough, that they don’t ask anymore.
The woman shouted they should help me get around the bike.
Still a few dozen feet away from her, one of the guys yelled back, “He will tell me he doesn’t need help!”
“What?” she yelled back.
“He will dead ass tell me he doesn’t need any help!” he repeated, louder this time, frustrated he was being yelled at for something he knew he couldn’t do anything about.
“He sure will,” laughed another one of the guys to himself.
I laughed too, and gave them a thumbs up. The woman stopped yelling about the bike.
4. The Clinger
This is the type who starts giving me instructions as they walk next to me in the same direction. Then they decide, since we’re walking together anyway, they are going to stick with me and provide a constant stream of unhelpful thoughts and suggestions.
These are perhaps the most stressful kind of unsolicited helper (the screamers below notwithstanding) because I have to be on constant alert. Anything I do that they perceive as a mistake will serve as further justification for staying with me.
I recently walked about two blocks with a particularly insistent clinger. When I finally convinced her to leave me alone, I was so flustered that I forgot I was at an intersection near my house that, unfathomably, has only one curb cut directly on the sidewalk’s corner, instead of the usual two, one at the end of either crosswalk. As soon as I turned to leave the clinger, I felt the curb cut, THOUGHT the crosswalk was directly in front of me, and began walking straight into the middle of the intersection. It was going to be truly impossible to get rid of her after that. So after we crossed the street, I lied and said I was turning. I waited 20 seconds or so around the corner, then stepped back out, presumably well behind her now, and carried on my way.
The thing to know about clingers is they only help if it’s convenient. I know from experience that they will leave you the second your paths separate. Set aside for the moment that this means they either 1) Know the information they provide isn’t that useful which is why they are comfortable leaving you, or 2) think they’re actually helping, and they’re choosing to abandon a disabled person who could really use their assistance.
I like to just say something really vague like “Oh wait,” stop walking, and pull out my phone. If they say anything, I respond distractedly while still looking at my phone. I want them to think I’m doing something important or urgent that I don’t want questions about. Then they have to decide how long they want to wait without having any idea how long I might be. They typically leave within 5 or 10 seconds.
The only time this maneuver gets tricky is if I have a specific subtype of the clinger: the lurker. Lurkers walk alongside me without saying anything and only speak up every minute or so before continuing along in silence. I never know if they’re still around. But I just give it an extra 15 seconds or so of pretending to use my phone to be safe. If I was ever unsure after that, I might fake a phone call about a creepy person who’s following me and say casually, “I think they’re gone. But if they come back, I do have that bottle of mace.”
5. The Grabber
The name is self-explanatory. They’re the type who walk up to me and PUT THEIR HAND ON my Arm, shoulder, or back, without overture, often without saying any words at all. Their assumption is, I guess, that everyone agrees I am in such desperate need of a sighted person’s immediate assistance that they can grab me, I will accept being grabbed, and nobody around will think twice about someone grabbing a disabled stranger.
As their defining behavior suggests, grabbers are the quickest of the unsolicited helpers to abandon social norms during interactions with disabled people. So unfortunately they require the most direct approach. I’ve done the following multiple times:
A. When grabbed, stop walking. Because the grabber is attached to me, they will also stop.
B. Firmly take their hand with my free hand and remove it from my arm.
C. Once their hand is off my arm, let go. If it returns to the arm, repeat step B.
D. Ask pointedly, “May I help you?”
E. When they explain they were trying to help, state clearly that a desire to help a stranger does not justify grabbing the stranger without asking.
F. If they continue insisting they were justified in grabbing you, ask who raised them (I’ve never had to get this far in the process, but the contingency plan is there).
Unfortunately, with grabbers, anything less than this amount of explicitness can prove ineffective. And the only alternative when I don’t feel like being this confrontational is being dragged around for a while. Unless of course I ever get to the point where I’ve really just had it, and a grabber is the last straw. In that case, I suppose I could reach up and grab their face, and then, when they object, ask SARCASTICALLY, “Oh, sorry, is there something WRONG with grabbing strangers???” I wouldn’t advise this. But I wouldn’t judge you if you went for it.
6. The Panic Screamer
This is the type who thinks you are in such IMMEDIATE danger of serious bodily injury or death that they must scream a warning at you.
At many subway stops, there is a very narrow walkway between the staircases and the edge of the platform. One or two steps in the wrong direction, and you’re falling on the tracks. After I carefully walked these once or twice, I found they were no problem to navigate with a cane. I’ve now walked them for almost 20 years without incident.
About 15 years ago, a woman saw me going to walk that narrow section, and decided I was about to die.
“YOU CAN’T WALK THERE!” she cried.
I kept walking.
“STOP! YOU’RE GOING TO GET HURT!”
I kept walking.
“SIR STOP RIGHT NOW! YOU CAN’T DO THAT!!!”
I kept walking.
At this point, I was past the stairs. I turned MY HEAD and simply raised my eyebrows at her.
After the last of the woman’s screams stopped echoing around the station, she made no further sounds that I could hear.
My strategy with panic screamers is to calmly keep doing what I’m doing. Within a few seconds, it should become clear that I am not in the danger they believe I am, and their screaming naturally flames out. Once they cannot deny I am perfectly safe, the silence will quietly confront them with the fact that they have just been shouting at someone in public for no reason.
I must emphasize the importance of letting the screaming run its course, rather than trying to quell it. Panic screamers do not take kindly to anything but the softest, gentlest suggestions that they might want to reconsider what they are doing. They have, after all, just done something quite loud and embarrassing in public. This was something I unfortunately did not understand when I was younger and less emotionally regulated.
One night, I went to cross one of the larger avenues in Manhattan. As I approached the crosswalk, a man yelled from a short distance, more aggressively than the average panic screamer, that the light was about to turn red and I shouldn’t go.
“Okay! Thank you!” I yelled back, stiflingly , before he had finished. “I’m fine.”
I reached the crosswalk. At this point in my life, I still had enough vision to clearly see headlights when it was dark, even from a distance. There were four lanes to traverse. The cars waiting at the light in the first two lanes were across the intersection from me. Meaning, if I started walking and the light turned in the first couple steps, I could just back up to the sidewalk in plenty of time. But if they didn’t start moving for a couple seconds, I would easily get past their lanes before they crossed my path. The second two lanes were empty with no headlights for as far as I could see into the distance. Ever the impatient New York pedestrian, I started walking.
The cars didn’t start moving until I was across the first lane, giving me more than enough time to get to the middle of the road. There were still no cars coming in the other direction. I was in the clear.
But then, I heard the panickiest scream of my life.
“NOOOOOOO!!! STOP!!!” It was the guy who yelled earlier.
I reached the road’s center line and turned around to see what was happening. There in the center of the two lanes behind me was something I never would have imagined before it happened. A figure silhouetted against the headlights stood, legs spread wide, arms waving wildly in the air over its head.
It was the panic screamer. But he wasn’t screaming at me. He was screaming at the cars. He was trying to stop traffic.
I watched as the progress of the headlights slowed and the sounds of engines died down. I was frozen to the spot, completely at a loss for how to respond to this behavior. Then he marched over to where I was, which, I must again emphasize, was completely out of the way of any cars, but still in the middle of a road.
“I TOLD YOU TO STOP!!!” he screamed, no more quietly than he did at the cars, even though he was now only feet away from me.
This was too much. I didn’t think. I just matched his energy.
“WILL YOU SHUT UP?! YOU’RE NOT HELPING!”
“FINE!” he shrieked, “JUST GO FUCKING DIE!”
Then, he did a 180 and marched straight back across the two lanes of traffic that he had just stopped, angrily ranting to himself about me. I couldn’t hear what he said. Dazed, I turned around slowly and crossed the remaining two lanes, which were still empty.
So yeah… don’t escalate with these people.
Conclusion
Well, blind reader, I hope I’ve provided some food for thought as you come up with your own plan for responding to each type of unsolicited helper. Either that, or you’re thinking, “Sy, your approach to sighted people is consistently absurd and I would never do half these things in a million years.” To that I say: Fair. Totally fair. But the next time you’re being dragged around by a grabber, just remember what I said. That face is right there. All you have to do is reach out your hand…