In the modern day, society has universally placed low expectations on blind people. The stigma that blind people aren’t as capable as their sighted peers or that blind people have too many limitations that hinder the possibility of accomplishing anything significant is all too common. Acquaintances question our ability to perform the simplest tasks, such as pouring a glass of milk. I have even gotten “Wow! You’re legally blind and you’re still in school?!?!” (no, I haven’t dropped out dude, I’m doing quite well actually). When we are to collaborate with our sighted peers on a project, either in school or at work, all too often we are excluded and given the least amount of responsibility due to others’ skepticism of our capacity. When in public, others feel the need to treat us as if we were children, speaking to us differently and doing everything for us, from carrying our bags to letting us cut to the front of the line (which can sometimes be nice, but unnecessary). Once at an airport, a worker brought a wheelchair over to me and offered to push me to my dad. Um, I may not have vision, but yes I do have two functioning legs.

I know people are just being nice and looking out for us. I understand that sighted people feel this way about us because if they themselves were blind, they would have no idea how to survive in such a sighted world. But when everyone believes you’re incapable and inferior, you start to believe it yourself. Especially if even your parents share that feeling.

Before I was diagnosed with Stargardts, my mother held the highest expectations for me. I was raised to be Harvard’s next valedictorian, or someone of that caliber. When I was five, I was the child who stayed in the library completing third grade level Kumon packets while everyone else was on the playground. I was the child who was given books upon books of advanced math books, learning how to multiply double digits before my peers could even do so with single digits. I was the child who was pushed to practice reading and writing Chinese until I was the top of the class in Chinese School every year. My parents wanted and expected me to be on top in everything I did, and I lived up to their expectations. But more important than the high marks and the excellence awards, I felt smart and great about myself.

But when I became visually impaired, I could feel things changed. My parents didn’t outright tell me, but I could sense a shift in their attitude. Within a month of my diagnosis, my mom took me out of Kumon and decided I would no longer continue in Chinese School. Unlike in the past, where my mom would assign me loads of math every day and then scrutinize the work I did each night, my parents told me “Kristie, you don’t need to be the best. As long as your not at the bottom we’re happy”. Initially, I was of course ecstatic that I could go outside and play now with my friends and play in my room without guilt. But after a while, as the academic lead I built slowly waned, I began to question my parents’ sudden change. When I asked, they told me “oh, we just don’t want to tire your eyes out with work and make your vision worse”. This left me feeling powerless, and that because of my eyes, I could no longer better myself. As my peers began surpassing me in skill level and grades, I started doubting my ability for the first time. This was reinforced near the middle of fifth grade when the math supervisor came into our class to pick out outstanding math students for CML. Before my visual impairment, I would have had no question that I would be among the top group, but sitting there that day, I just had an impending feeling of doom that I was not amongst the chosen. And I wasn’t. Literally half of my class was selected for CML but I wasn’t.

I think I went home and puked that day. Watching all my friends file out the door with the math director made me feel more miserable and inferior as ever. I had gone from being the cream of the crop to amongst the bottom half. I no longer felt that I was smart, and this became a self fulfilling prophecy. As fifth grade drew to a close, I saw my grades take a slide from my previous all A+’s (they were still reasonable). My parents claimed they were “so proud” of me for my grades, but deep down, I was positive that if I were still sighted, those marks would have gotten me kicked out of the house.

Just kidding, but you get the point.

TIP: This is mainly geared towards parents: you need to show that you believe in your kid, regardless of what happens. It is unnecessary to treat them any differently after they are diagnosed with an eye condition, as this will allow them to assume that their disability will limit their abilities in more ways than they actually do. A child’s perception of how their visual impairment ill effect them will always stem from their parents’. Just because society has a certain view of blind people, doesn’t mean its true: there are plenty of successful blind people in the world (the one I admire most is professional runner Marla Runyon, who also has Stargardts). Raising a generation of blind youth that can defy the limitations society places starts from a child’s own belief in their capability, which is influenced most by the parents’ attitude.