Are Blind People Denied Their Sexuality?
The contortions that people will undergo to desexualize me, a blind woman, can be overwhelming.
This is A Blind Writer’s Notebook, a monthly column by M. Leona Godin about her experiences as a writer and the monolithic trope of blindness.
The Sheltering Sky.
Waiting for the Barbarians
“When I look straight there is nothing, there is— ”(she rubs the air in front of her like someone cleaning a window).
“A blur,” I say.
“There is a blur. But I can see out of the sides of my eyes. The left eye is better than the right. How could I find my way if I didn’t see?”
“You visit other girls,” she whispers. “You think I do not know?”
I make a peremptory gesture for her to be quiet.
“Do you also treat them like this?” she whispers, and starts to sob.
Though my heart goes out to her, there is nothing I can do. Yet what humiliation for her! She cannot even leave the apartment without tottering and fumbling while she dresses. She is as much a prisoner now as ever before. I pat her hand and sink deeper into gloom.
M. Leona Godin is a writer, actor, and educator who is blind. She received her PhD in English Literature from NYU. Her work has recently appeared or is forthcoming in Playboy, FLAPPERHOUSE, and Quail Bell Magazine. She serves on the editorial review board of Newtown Literary and is the founding editor of Aromatica Poetica.
More by this author
The idea of exploitation seemed to me fraught with assumptions about what a blind person is supposed to do and be—assumptions that insist blind people be poets and prophets, saints or beggars, not lowbrow entertainers.
The sixth sense, second sight, third eye. We are supposed to have both extra-accurate hearing and perfect pitch, more numerous and more acute taste buds, a finer touch, a bloodhound’s sense of smell.
I felt that whipping out the white cane would irrevocably launch me into the kingdom of the blind, and, for many years, I did not want to go there.