Your Intentions May Be Good, But Your Actions Are Annoying!!!

My fellow Guelphites, Canadian citizens, or otherwise. I know  it’s 🇨🇦 to “help” folks, but i hardly think it’s 🇨🇦 to FORCE help on folks who don’t consent to it, and didn’t ask for it. 

Today aound 4:45 my hubby and I, both legally blind with him almost completely blind, arrived at Scotiabank & Starbucks at Clairfield. Upon arriving at Scotiabank there was a full grocery cart outside. We navigated around that, and as I had my hand on the door to open it manually, it spring open, hitting me. Scared the bejeepers out of me! While my husband is blinder then I am, he was born with. 20/40 vision (I kid you not!) and still has some abilities I never developed. I have mobility issues, and just last night I had to climb 11 flights of stairs cause our elevator was down, I was out, and I needed to get upstairs to take my meds. Obviously everyone gathered around the defective elevator was expecting that it would’ve worked, upon their arrival home, but thets beside the point. 

Due to the situation with the stairs, I was feeling rather shaky today, and my husband advised me that if we got out and walked some errands (we know better than to try and run) I may have less pain in a few days. Good idea, and much as I hate moving, I need exercise. 

We arrived at the bank. My mind was on our 🇺🇸🇨🇦 transactions, NOT on satisfying some stranger’s social needs. 

As Hubby reached the door it swung open, and he went in. I’ve nearly been clobbered by automatic doors activated on my behalf but not with my consent enough times that when one swings at me, I back the hell off!!!! I have a friend here in town, a sighted friend I may add, who was injured by one of those doors, when a drunk neighbour in the building, came at him, and he wasn’t expecting it. His little 5 year old boy and a little neighbour girl witnessed it, and were a bit traumatized by all the blood, and the yelling. 

Those damn doors are DANGEROUS! 

After waiting for the door to close and the coast to clear, I walked towards the door…..which swung open and hit me in the hand. The dude pushed the button AGAIN! He then justified his actions by saying “I’m a Canadian citizen.” Yeah? Well I am too. He went on to say “it’s what we do. We’re nice!” I reminded him that we need to be mindful, and that not everyone can safely respond to automatic doors run amok. Also, not all people who use white canes are blind in the same way. My cane does not mean “help me” it means “be mindful.” He then went o to mansplain how the doors worked. I mentioned that this was my bank, I go there several times a week, and I know how it works. If I was getting a little huffy, it’s because I had actual business on my mind, and being inadvertently harassed by someone was not conduciveto the numbers I had to re-crunch. Also, he was making it hard for me to navigate by not leaving me alone. Any parent who’s had an excited child chatter at them while they’re trying to do their banking, will understand the frustration. Now imagine that  exuberance in a fullgroen man. I am not an extrovert! 

Afterwords my husband (also not an extrovert) decided to go to one of the stores across the street for something, a street he’s crossed a hundred times, the last time only two days before, when his vision was just as it is today. He can hear traffic, and see head and tail lights, and traffic lights. He is better at crossing streets than I am, and I have better vision. Would you believe this aggressively “good?” Samaritan met him at the crossing, and forced unsolicited help upon him, INSISTING he escort him across the street? He distracted my husband’s navigation the same way as he almost distracted me at the bank. We’re glad he didn’t reach out and touch him, cause my husband is also a combat vet with PTSD. 

When Hubby & I met up at Starbucks 20 minutes later, he said exactly what I was thinking. Time for a trip to Newark, where people are less pushy. 

Canadians, we are not obliged to force ourselves upon people. If you think someone needs help, ask. If they say no, that’s the end of it. If they ignore you, that’s also the end of it. They may be wearing headphones, cause they wish not be disturbed. They may be busy like I was, and unable to reply without breaking their concentration. Trust me, as a Nurodivergent with mobility issues and low vision, I kid you not when I say I don’t have the RAM, so to speak, to speak to you when you come out of nowhere. If I weren’t with my husband, I’d have been wearing headphones. I use music to drown out anything that isn’t traffic noise, and to help me with timing. You are not entitled to a response when I am busy just trying to keep from accidentally committing suicide. I know you think you have good intentions, but forceful unsolicited interventions can be dangerous, as well as annoying. Also, and I can’t emphasize this enough, after 18 months of near total isolation, not all of us are READY to have people flinging huge panes of glass our way. Some of us just want to do our shopping in peace

Please don’t talk to me about times when I may need someone and they’re not there. What’s that got to do with this? You don’t know this about me, but I prevented two murdered (one in Canada, one in the USA), can combat roll out of a moving car if necessary, and as I said earlier, I climbed 11 effing flights of stairs last night. YES there will be time when I, and any other individual will need help. I can’t speak for others, but if I need help, I’m going to ASK! I am not going to pretend to be helpless, because someone else thinks it’s noble to do something I do 20 times a day. 

It’s incredibly ableist to think that folks with disabilities need help all the time. We may move and act differently, but many of us know what we’re doing. 

Of course there will be times when someone needs help, and they may not be able to ask. This is why our approach needs to be gentle, and not forceful. Once you’ve made your intentions known, let them take the lead. Do not expect the disabled person to obey you, you need to obey us, because we know what we need. If you want to help us, do as we say. If you’re just out to feel good, go elsewhere. We’re not out here to satisfy your ego. 

Affordable driverless cars can’t come fast enough. 

Tonight I Figured Out Why There Is A Stairway To Heaven, And Not An Elevator.

 I had to run some errands, so I grabbed my bag, and headed for the elevator. They're upgrading our elevators, so we're currently down to one at a time. They did E2 last week, and are working on E1, which also doubles as our service elevator. 

When I got home I noticed a large crowd of people gathered around the elevators, including one lady with a toddler, and a giant stroller. I looked at the newly installed blue light, and noticed that the damn thing was flashing. Oh what fresh Hell is this? E2 had a glitch, we had no elevtors at all, and I lived on the 11th friggen floor. 

I sat in the lobby for a few minutes and considered my options. As the lobby filled up, and the guy didn't arrive for a while, I decided to take the stairs. I am not a small woman, I'm legally blind, and I walk with a cane. By the time I got to 8, I decided I'd better sit down for a few minutes. No one else was around, so I took a seat on the 8th floor stairs for five minutes before ascending the final three floors. 

I am not looking forward to how my legs are going to feel when I wake up in the morning. Fortunately for me, we have marijuana in here, and that always helps with pain. Also, I never want to see a nother flight of stairs for as long as I live!!! 

A Little Common Sense Goes A Heck Of A Long Way.

I posted the following to a Guelph group after my experience at Tim Horton’s today. 

 Dear Guelph. 

PSA here. 

Blind ranges from profoundly blind (can’t see a damn thing) to legally blind (has various visual issues that prevent one from doing some things, while allowing them to do others). Same with folks who have hearing problems. They can be all different kinds of “hard of hearing,” Not all are profoundly deaf. People who use wheelchairs, canes and other mobility aids can sometimes walk without them, they just can’t keep it up long enough to walk like the average person expects. Our abilities can also fluctuate depending on how many tasks we need to do at once. If I’m focusing on staying on my feet, I’m not going to have the visual comprehension to recognize a face, but I can still spot the conformity of a restaurant franchise, for example. Every Tim’s sign is identical, but you & your twin may not be.

Today Hubby & I went to the Tim Horton’s at Wellington & Gordon. Reason being, they have public benches, and we’re both legally blind with mobility issues. We missed our stop because it flew by too fast, and so we had to walk an extra block. Juuuuuust as I was honing on in a free bench, someone meeting the crowd on the other bench threw his bike on the ground right in front of me. I asked him to move it, and he said “go around.” I stood my ground for several reasons. 

1) I was a bit dizzy from having to walk too far and was in no position to change course without losing my balance. 

2) I had something to grab on to. There was a pole of some sort. 

3) He threw it right in the path of an oncoming pedestrians. Doesn’t matter whether it was you, me, or someone else. Cyclists need to keep bikes out of the way of pedestrians. Would he have thrown it in the path of an oncoming car? 

I acknowledge that cyclists are stuck beteeen a rock and a hard place. They feel threatened by cars on the road, and feel persecuted by pedestrians. Drivers, y’all need to respect cyclists the way I’m saying they should respect pedestrians. 

If you operate something with wheels, be aware that you move faster than some, and can create obstacles for others, if you just toss yoor v hocke on the ground. 

Please watch out for others for yoor sake as well as ours. Watch where you’re going, watch where you toss your gear, and For The Love Of God (I don’t use God’s Name lightly) when someone tells you they have a disability, don’t argue with them. A person may have a blind uncle, that doesn’t mean they know everything. 

It’s hard enough for the physically challenged to exercise. A lack of public benches means a lack of places to stop and re-charge. The challenged need to exercise as much as anyone, and not all disabilities are going to be visible. 

Doug Ford Tries Again

Breaking news. Doug Ford announces new restrictions aimed at limiting the mobility of the people, and the spread of the virus

Translation: Doug Ford introduces new restrictions aimed at making the rest of the world more like me. My mobility has been restricted for damn near 40 years, I generally hate being touched, and masks rule because the lack of body language makes life easier for the blind.  

Independence Day

 20 years ago today, I scratched something huge off of my bucket list. On this day in 2001 I legally changed my name from Leah Mary Allan, to Leah Mary Allan Christensen, claiming my mother\"s Danish birth name, and moving my father\"s birth name to the status of middle name. Occasionally I hyphenate for some of my writing, but legally Mary and Allan are my two middle names. This is great, as I literally have my paternal grandma\"s married name Mary Allan right in the middle of my name. 

While my father kept his cool, he sure wasn\"t pleased with the idea. One question he asked me was if I knew what a good name the Allan name was. Well yes, as good as name as Christensen. Both names come with absolutely stellar reputations. My maternal grandfather was a guard for King Christian X of Denmark, after all. Reputation had nothing to do with my decision. What it was was the patriarchy. How is it not sexist that the only reason why I had my father\"s name to begin with, was that he happens to be a man? Also, was I not going to grow up and get married one day, taking my husband\"s name? I guarantee that would not have resulted in an argument, so why is a daughter (or son) taking their mother\"s maiden name even an issue? 

Let me tell you about my father. He was born in Ontario Canada in 1949 into an amazing family with parents who had good strong values. He and his three younger sisters were raised to be productive members of society, and fine up-standing members of their communities. Like my mother, my father volunteered with our church, when I was growing up. He started his own business when I was a kid, and worked out of our home. Both he and Mom ran businesses.. Obviously for privacy reasons I\"m not going into too much detail, but I\"m sure you understand, I HAVE AN AMAZING DAD!!! I also live in his country, speak his native language, live 20 miles from his childhood home (a home my grandparents owned from 1946 until just a couple of years ago when Grandma sold it), and anyone who has ever met me knows that I\"m a whole heck of a lot like him. He was never one to sit quietly, and neither the heck am I. If the family comes across this post, I would like to remind them that that was a high compliment. Dad taught me that people who just sit back and keep their mouths shut, are going to get steam rolled, and taken advantage of. There was no greater man than my father, to raise a couple of women who aren\"t going to put up with crap!! 

So, what was my problem, you ask? Simple! No one taught me Danish as a child. I had my Mormor and Morfar (Mom\"s Mom and Mom\"s Dad) but compared to my Canadian upbringing, very little of their culture. Shouldn\"t it have been 50/50? Yes my mother immigrated to Canada and became a Canadian citizen, but did she have to assimilate so much?? As well as being a feminist and wanting to bulldoze the patriarchy in general, I also wanted something strong from my mother\"s family as a visible part of my identity. Early in 2001 I realized that I could feed two birds with one crumb by changing my last name. I was not going up my Allan personality, the English language, or any of my other roots. Also, in changing my name, i was taking a name I was going to keep. If I wasn\"t going to have my father\"s name, I would never take my husband\"s name either. This way I could not be chattel passing from father to husband. I am well aware of the fact that I have my Morfar\"s last name, but the total destruction of the patriarchy was going to take time. It would be the same if I went back to Rasmussen, or Jensen before it, on Mormor\"s side. For now I wanted a name from my mother\"s family to balance being born in my father\"s country.

When I said I wanted to crush the patriarchy, I did not say I wanted to crush my father. He was simply born and indoctrinated into a tradition not of his making, but one which would benefit him greatly. While women have glass ceilings, men have the chances to be heads of families, among other things. THAT is the injustice that moved me forward. It had nothing to do with my father whom I love, and a name that still makes me proud. It is that pride that didn\"t allow me to drop Allan all together. 

Three years after I changed my name, I met the man whom I\"d marry. I met him (online) at Dad\"s house, as a matter of fact. I told him the whole story, the night we met. A wise old friend of mine told me that when you\"re in a relationship, or about to embark on one, it\"s important to get the big details out of the way. He mentioned wanting to emigrate to Canada on his first date with his future wife. She was on board with the idea, and their relationship blossomed. I remembered his advice when I told my husband about my last name. He actually noticed it right away, and it\"s origins were the first things he wanted to know. After I told him my story he said that any man who would insist on his wife taking his name is a fool. Turns out Walker had been divorced, and really didn\"t like the sound of the phrase "Mrs. Bennett." Also one of his exes has a name similar to mine if it were rearranged a bit. Our return address labels say "Christensen & Bennett." It\"s he "&" that makes us a married couple. 

While my certificate didn\"t arrive in the mail till April 17, today\"s date of April 9th was when it was issued, so it\"s the day I celebrate. I was 19 in 2001 when I changed my last name, and I\"m 39 now. Where does the time go? 

With all that\"s happened in the last 20 years, I\"m quite proud of what I did in 2001, and how far I\"ve come since then. I can still be a part of my family without us all being bound by the same traditions. One thing that I did keep from my father was my Presbyterian faith, although that was tested in 2007 by a rather conservative minister when I wanted to marry my husband, who happened to be a Mormon. We ended up eloping in Arizona, and having a non-officiated ceremony with family later the next year. 

Anyway, not wanting to have anything to do with organized religion, but not being closed to the fact that miracles happen, I tuned into a Presbyterian church on a community radio station, and the rest is history. The ministers are perfectly balanced. Gender inequality doesn\"t exist. Hugh and Courtney are both feminists, and Hugh has a special gift when it comes to understanding my musical side. Had I not been born Presbyterian, I might not have given Knox Waterloo a second luck. I can thank my father for that Mom\"s side is Lutheran, and Mom joined the Presbyterian church when she married my Dad. 

With Mom\"s maiden name, and Dad\"s religion, as obvious parts of my identity that I could\"ve easily lost to marriage, I have found a way to balance my identity and buck tradition at the same time, and 20 years later I\"m still pretty damn proud.