Hi there! I’ve been working on a science fantasy story idea, with one of my main/POV characters being visually impaired. While the level of the technology is pretty high (think magitek androids that are advanced enough to pass as human), I don’t want to just go with him getting cybernetic eyes. Instead, I wanted him to use some of my story’s tech to assist himself in various ways (I probably worded that wonky, apologies in advance). As an engineer who’s read up here and here on disability theory, though, I’m well aware of the issues with people over-engineering “solutions” to problems disabled people can handle themselves. Do you have some advice on designing fictional assistive devices in ways that neither ignore a person’s own capabilities nor sidestep the disability entirely?
Leota
A note on language: Some people, including prominent organizations, use the term “visually impaired,” but others consider its use to be offensive. In order to be respectful to as many people as possible, I recommend using terms like “low-vision” and “limited-sight.”
Leota,
Thanks for the question! This is a topic I think about a lot and I’ve been wanting to write more about it, so thanks for the opportunity. ;)
Before I get started, I do need to say that, while I have a lot of general advice for creating assistive devices, I am not blind, and this is a situation where consulting with someone with lived experience is particularly important.
When crafting assistive devices it is tempting to focus in on the details of possible devices right away, but assistive devices are only one piece of the larger access puzzle. Other factors, like what activities are important for everyday life in this society, what resources are abundant, and how accessible the architecture is, all affect what assistive devices need to be able to do. For example, a person doesn’t need a wheelchair that can climb stairs if there are no stairs.
Start by deciding how ableist vs accessible your fictional society is. Ableist societies put the burden of access onto disabled people. In contrast, accessible societies take on a lot of the burden of creating access by building accessible physical and social environments and providing resources. That is why this choice has a big impact on everything else. Generally speaking, unless a disabled storyteller wants to explore ableism as a significant part of their story, I recommend reducing or removing ableism. Based on your premise, it sounds like you have chosen to depict a more accessible society, which is great!
Next, get a general picture of what the physical environment in this setting is like, what kinds of tasks people in this society are expected to perform in day to day life, and what resources people have access to. Together, these will help define what people’s needs are and what resources are available to meet them. For example, three tasks that are important in modern US society are getting information from computers, navigating through a city, and getting food. Tasks depend a lot on the speculative fiction elements of the setting.
Meanwhile, the physical environment will depend a lot on both the speculative fiction elements and how accessible the society is. If this is an accessible culture, then accessibility should be built into the physical and social environment. Other resources people might have access to are accommodations, assistance animals, service workers, and medical care.
Examining these factors together gives more information on what tasks assistive devices in this setting need to be able to do, and what is already being done. We are now ready to begin working on the assistive devices themselves. I recommend starting by researching assistive devices and techniques from the real world, like the different tools for orienting and mobility.
The more your technology is grounded in real-world things, the more likely it is to relate to the real experiences and needs of disabled people. This doesn’t mean that you can’t have advanced technology or magic, but starting from real things (even if a lot of changes are made) makes it easier to connect with what people actually need, which is one of your concerns. Of course, this approach isn’t perfect, and problems can still come up. Getting feedback and advice from a blind consultant is essential!
The next step is to focus on function and usability. A lot of non-disabled people go wrong by focusing on what they perceive as “missing” function, with the goal of making a disabled person as much like a non-disabled person as possible. This leads to over-engineered, flashy devices that aren’t practical, as described by Britt H Young in “I have one of the most advanced prosthetic arms in the world — and I hate it.” What actually matters is focusing on what the disabled person actually wants to accomplish and keeping practicality and usability central to the solution. Making function and usability the goal shifts the design process away from those flashy fictional devices that solve “problems” disabled people don’t really have.
Finally, be sure to define what each of your assistive devices can and can’t do, and any trade-offs that come with using it. What are its limitations? Are there harmful effects from overuse? Does it have a limited power supply that needs to be recharged? What situations make it difficult to use? How reliable is it? Is it fragile? How easy is it to repair? What maintenance does it need? Is it costly?
These trade-offs are an important part of disabled experience. Even when all of someone’s access needs are met, there usually are trade-offs. You are rightly concerned about erasing disability, and trade-offs are a key way to avoid doing that, because they are one of the things that makes being a disabled person whose access needs are met different than being non-disabled.
I hope that this answer gives you some ideas. I am actually working on an article on this topic called, “Crafting Assistive Devices for Speculative Fiction.” When this Q & A comes out, you should be able to find a draft of that article on the Writing Alchemy website.
Good luck with your storytelling project. It sounds fun!
–Fay Onyx from Writing Alchemy
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Is Geordie from ST:TNG a good example of this?
In general, no. They did make an attempt at side-effects, but those weren’t carried out consistently. In addition, there were quite a few negative tropes that happened. And because they only focused on replacing vision with a device, other aspects of accessibility weren’t explored. For example, he never took a day off from using it when the side effects were bad.
Was the fact that he was played by a sighted actor also problematic?
I hadn’t considered that at the time, but now…
You are right. Disabled characters should be played by disabled actors. If they had done that it would have changed everything.
They also have him secretly longing to see the way sighted people do. And he doesn’t have any successful romances (probably due to the combination of being black and blind).
To be clear, both black and disabled characters are less frequently represented as having romances, much less happy, successful ones. Apparently the writers couldn’t get over their unconscious ableism and racism to give Geordie any good romances.
With the link to the piece on prosthetic arms, I’m reminded of the depiction of prosthetics in the webcomic O Human Star. The character Lucille has prosthetics on three of her limbs and, while she designs them for clients who want realistic-looking limbs, prefers abstract and un-human-looking prostheses for herself (“claw” models or even tentacles). The story does a lot of exploration into how we use our bodies, see them, change them, and change in them. Most of its major characters are “cyborgs” in some sense, either with prosthetics or completely rebuilt robotically. I’d be curious to hear your thoughts on that.
For general information on low vision and other blindness matters, may I recommend the National Federation of the Blind? (https://nfb.org/). If you’d like to consult with a blind person for your story, I’m sure someone would be glad to help you out. Best of luck, whatever you decide to do.
A very minor character, but in gargoyles there was a minor ally of the characters who is blind but his main character trait is he loves research and literature.
He has a vast library in braille, and he writes books using a recorder, (1990s) and gets along fine with his seeing eye dog. One time when the whole city was turned to stone, he was safe because the show set the precedent that you have to see and hear magic to be affected.
Later, when gargoyles existence is revealed he is a little annoyed they think he didn’t know what they are just because he can’t see.
He never shows he misses his sight, and still was able to carry one of them to the safety of his home. Him being blind is a point in the plot but more tertiary to the character (aka being immune to magic and not immediately noticing his friends are monsters) but they rely on him for his research and knowledge and he uses accessibility tools to do that.
In this case the accessibility never hinders him but when outside his main role (researcher) some things are harder. Like a villain once stole something from him without him being able to notice. Or he does not know a new stone statue is in his backyard.
I have a visual impairment. Basically, starting at birth my brain didn’t register data from my left eye, leaving it physically fine but functionally almost blind. Obviously every vision issue is going to be different, and mine is only one minor example of a constellation of such issues, but maybe some of my experiences can help you.
–My family didn’t believe me at first. They thought I was clumsy and wanted glasses to be like Daddy. It wasn’t until a test in school proved what I was saying that they took me seriously. This isn’t because my family doesn’t love me; a first grader simply doesn’t have the vocabular to discuss these issues, and I had an over-active imagination.
–I couldn’t play sports as a kid. I didn’t have 3D vision–even now it’s not very good, and goes away when I’m tired or stressed–so I couldn’t catch a ball, throw one effectively, or basically do anything involving a ball, dart, discus, or anything of that nature. I’m a nerd, and I’ve always wondered how much my vision played a role in that.
–I had to undergo some pretty strenuous therapy. They tried to make it fun, but it was still a lot of work. For example, I had to play video games with my non-functioning eye for an hour a night for years. SUPER frustrating, especially since I don’t like to lose. This had some interesting effects on me–lots of solitary time to think, and a deep love of video games as an artform.
–My brain registers flat images as 3D. I’m used to seeing everything flat anyway, so my brain subconsciously picks up on the 3D cues it’s used to. Really useful when reading topo maps–I can’t NOT see them as a landscape. Useful as a field geologist. That said, I’m also easily fooled. I can’t see where water will run on a landscape, or know if a picture is crooked without a level, for example–both of which have gotten me in trouble at work. I also obviously can’t visually estimate distances at all, I need to measure them somehow.
–I have a tremendous fear of heights. I can’t tell how far down the ground is (not reliably anyway, and not at all during my childhood), so my brain can’t tell if a fall will be nothing, will hurt a lot, or will kill me. Put me on a 6 foot stepladder and I have trouble breathing. Expanded metal gratings, common on industrial facilities, are psychological torture.
–I also have a near-pathological fear of things happening to the right eye–not just on me, but on others as well. You can do what you want to the left eye and it doesn’t bother me any more than injury to another body part would. But a character getting hit in the right eye, or even getting sand in it, is pure body-horror for me. My son finds this amusing, because he inherited this issue, only his left eye is his good eye. It confused him at first why I worried so much about my right eye.
In my case, a pair of glasses and a conscious awareness of how I see the world are sufficient to mitigate any issues. Most of the mitigation has been internal–getting me to understand how to function given the way I see. I have learned my limits, and learned coping mechanisms, often to the point where I’m no more aware of my coping mechanisms than you are of your binocular vision.
For my part, I honestly don’t see what technology (other than glasses) would do to improve anything with regard to vision. Obviously a level helps with photos, and stuff to measure with helps estimate distances, but after that there’s just nothing for technology to help with. And I certainly don’t pine for perfect vision. I’ve never stayed up late at night wishing my bad eye worked better or anything like that. I don’t even think about it 99% of the time. If a character had my issues and acted like they had some huge burden to bear, or brought it up repeatedly, I’d consider it unrealistic. And yes, I get how this seems to contradict my comment about strenuous therapy. For me the sight problem is an intellectual one–how to resolve this problem–not one that deeply affects my internal experience, if that makes sense.
Obviously different vision problems will be different, and my issue is fairly minor. I by no means wish to seem to be speaking for anyone other than myself. And obviously more serious issues, or those that occur later in life, are going to be more traumatic.
For what it’s worth, I also am almost entirely anosmic (lacking a sense of smell), and that’s been a FAR bigger issue in my life. There’s the obvious–I have no knowledge of what I smell like at any time, for example–but there are also more serious issues. I work with hazardous waste, and cannot rely on my sense of smell to know when I or my crews are in danger (smell is a not-uncommon indicator of exposure). Here technology is not just useful, but literally a matter of life and death.