Inclusion Isn’t Complicated - But It DoesRequire Awareness

I spend a considerable amount of time talking about the challenges blind people face in social settings, programs, and events. But I realized that if I want to see change, I should probably help people understand how to create that change in the first place.

The truth is, most people are not intentionally trying to exclude blind people. Most of the time, they simply don’t know how to include us.

And honestly, I understand that.

If you’ve never spent time around someone who is blind or visually impaired, you probably

haven’t had to think about inaccessible printed materials, awkward group conversations, or the possibility that someone quietly walked away while the blind person is still talking to what turns out to be empty air.

- I hate when that happens.

These things are not always intuitive. There are also a lot of misconceptions about blindness.

People tend to assume one of two extremes: either we need constant help, or accessibility begins and ends with asking, “Do you need assistance?”

In reality, inclusion is usually about small things. Thoughtful things. Human things.

Whether you’re planning a networking event, birthday party, conference, meetup, wedding, or casual gathering, there are practical ways to make blind people feel genuinely included instead of like an afterthought.

One of the easiest ways to make an event more inclusive happens before the event even begins.

When sending invitations or event details:

• Make sure digital invitations are screen-reader accessible

• Avoid putting important information only in images

• Provide menus, agendas, or programs in an accessible digital format ahead of time

Blind people often spend extra energy figuring out things sighted people rarely have to think about. The more information you provide beforehand, the more relaxed, independent, and comfortable we can be when we arrive.

Please don’t grab someone, push them, steer them, or physically move them without asking first.

If you think someone might need assistance, simply ask:

• “Would you like help finding the table?”

• “Can I guide you to your seat?”

• “Would it help if I described the room?”

Simple. Respectful. Easy.

And if someone says no, don’t take it personally.

Blind people navigate the world every day. Independence matters to many of us, even when we occasionally need support. And needing support does not make someone “dependent.”

I do need assistance sometimes, but I decide what assistance I want, when I want it, and how I want it.

One of the most awkward parts of social events for blind people is figuring out who’s in the

room. Sighted people rely heavily on visual cues without even realizing it. Someone walks up, smiles, makes eye contact, waves, and joins the conversation. None of that works for us.

So instead of saying:

“Hey! It’s so good to see you!”

Try this instead:

“Hey Michelle, it’s Sarah from ….”

That tiny adjustment changes everything.

And while we’re on the subject, please - for the love of everything holy- do not walk up to a

blind person and say:

“Guess who?”

I promise you; this is significantly less fun for us than it is for you.

It’s already frustrating trying to figure out who’s speaking, and honestly, I hate having to ask,

“Who is this?” - especially when it’s someone I probably should know.

And if new people join the conversation, introduce them too.

Likewise, if you leave the conversation, mention that you’re stepping away. Otherwise, we may still think you’re standing there listening while we continue talking into the void.

Yes, that happens more often than people realize.

You do not need a perfect event space. But a little awareness goes a long way.

Keep walkways clear. Avoid moving furniture unexpectedly. Mention stairs, obstacles, or narrow spaces. Ask if the person would like a brief orientation to the room.

A quick description can make a huge difference:

• “The food table is along the left wall.”

• “The restroom is past the bar and to the right.”

• “There are about ten people here right now.”

That kind of information helps blind guests feel grounded instead of disoriented.

Buffets can become social obstacle courses.

If food is self-serve, offer to walk through the options verbally instead of vaguely gesturing and saying, “Everything’s over there.”

Because “over there” is not a useful direction when you cannot see where there is.

And honestly, if you notice a blind person sitting alone while everyone else has already gotten up for food, there’s a good chance they may be unsure how the buffet is set up, where the line starts, or whether someone is available to help.

That does not mean they are helpless — or not hungry. It means navigating an unfamiliar buffet in a crowded room can be awkward.

A simple:

“Would you like me to walk through the buffet with you?”

or

“Can I help you get some food?”can make a huge difference.

Personally, I would rather starve than try to navigate a crowded buffet entirely on my own.

Social inclusion matters just as much as ramps, braille, or screen readers.

Blind people are often unintentionally left out of side conversations, group dynamics, games, introductions, or visual jokes everyone else is reacting to.

Sometimes people also become visibly uncomfortable because they are afraid of saying the

wrong thing.

For the record:

Most blind people are not waiting to be offended because you said, “Did you see that movie?”

We say “see” too.

Relax.

The best thing you can do is treat us like people while also being mindful of access needs.

Not fragile.

Not inspirational.

Not invisible.

Just included.

And if something visual is happening at the event, include us in it.

That does not mean narrating every second like a documentary. But if everyone is laughing at something across the room, reacting to photos, or watching a presentation with visual content, a brief explanation helps us participate instead of sitting there confused while everyone else reacts.

Because inclusion is participation.

Curiosity is normal. Questions are fine.

But there’s a difference between genuine conversation and making someone feel like a walking educational seminar.

Blind people also want to talk about music, relationships, work, TV shows, travel, books, and

literally everything else.

Sometimes the most inclusive thing you can do is stop treating blindness as the most interesting thing about us.

And honestly? You’re probably going to mess up sometimes. That’s okay.

Most disabled people can tell the difference between someone who is genuinely trying and

someone who is dismissive.

You do not need to be perfect to be inclusive. You just need to be willing.

The biggest misconception about accessibility is that it’s complicated.

Usually, it’s just awareness.

It’s introductions.

It’s communication.

It’s consideration.

It’s making sure someone is part of the experience instead of standing adjacent to it.

And no, people cannot always know these things intuitively.

That’s exactly why conversations like this matter.

I don’t expect people to automatically know how to include blind people in social settings.

Most people were never taught. But when people make the effort - even small efforts - it makes a bigger difference than they probably realize.

Written By Michelle Friedman

Michelle Friedman is the board chair of Keshet in Chicago, a member of Disability Lead and has been a disability advocate for 40 years. She has written two children’s books and is a frequent speaker for elementary and high school-age students. #AllInForAllAbilities