I am a blind public health professional. I navigate this world every single day, independently, confidently, and on my own terms.
And I am exhausted.
Not from being blind. From being grabbed, steered, clutched, and redirected by strangers who decided, without asking, that I needed their hands on my body.
Good intentions do not make consent optional.
I know. You saw the white cane. You felt that surge of helpfulness. That impulse came from a caring place.
But here is the thing about consent culture: it applies everywhere. It applies on dates, in medical offices, in classrooms. And it absolutely applies on the sidewalk when a blind person is walking by.
Consent means you ask before you act. It means the other person gets to decide what happens to their body. That principle does not disappear just because you feel helpful.
And here is what that uninvited touch actually does to us:
❌ It spikes our stress instantly. An unexpected hand on the body is startling, full stop.
❌ It disrupts our spatial orientation, which we have carefully built and are actively using. You can cause us to stumble, lose our place, or worse.
❌ Over time, it erodes our confidence and mental health. As a public health professional, I can tell you that has measurable consequences.
❌ It sends the message, clearly and repeatedly, that you do not believe we have this handled.
We Are Not Lost.
We are not confused. We are not waiting to be rescued. We are not a problem you need to solve on your way to wherever you are going.
We are blind. That is it. We have got this.
Consent culture asks us to respect people’s expertise about their own bodies and their own needs. Blind people are the foremost experts on our own navigation. When you override that without asking, you are not helping. You are just taking control.
What Actually Helps
✅ Pause. Watch for a moment before assuming anything.
✅ If you want to offer help, speak from a few feet away: “Hey, can I help with anything?” Then respect the answer, including “No, thanks.”
✅ Check your assumptions. A blind person moving through space is doing exactly what they intended to do.
✅ Never grab first and ask later. Ever. That is not helping. That is a consent violation.
Ask before you act. That is the whole lesson.
This is not complicated. This is the same consent-based respect you would extend to anyone else. We are anyone else.
Blind people are out here living full, whole, competent lives in our bodies, on our terms. A culture of consent means everyone gets that respect, not just some people in some situations.
Share this. Say it out loud. Teach it to your kids. Post it in your workplace. This is what consent culture looks like in everyday life.
We deserve better than a world where leaving the house means bracing for being grabbed by strangers. Every single day.
Our body. Our call. No exceptions.
About the Author: This Is What I Do Every Day.
Laura Millar is a neurodivergent, blind, queer public health professional, sexual health educator, and disability justice advocate with over 20 years of experience working at the intersection of consent culture, disability justice, and reproductive health.
Consent culture doesn’t build itself. People and organizations build it by examining assumptions, changing habits, and leading differently. That is the work Laura does. She coaches individuals and trains organizations, including workplaces, schools, and healthcare settings, to build consent culture that actually sticks.