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Sexual Health Through the Expanded Core Curriculum: A Framework for Future Educators

By Laura Millar, MPH, M.A., MCHES

This article was written for Dr. Adam Graves’s class at San Francisco State University’s Program in Visual Impairments, in preparation for a panel discussion on how to incorporate sexual health education, bodily autonomy, and consent into the Expanded Core Curriculum.

Introduction: The Conversation We’re Not Having

When I was first diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa and told that I was blind, I remember quietly wondering: Will anyone want to date me now? Will I still have a family? Is that future even possible anymore?

At the time, I didn’t have the language to name these feelings, but what I was experiencing was internalized ableism: the belief that disability makes you less worthy of love, intimacy, or pleasure. And I now know I wasn’t alone. Over the years, I’ve heard similar questions from students, parents, and peers who never had the opportunity to learn that their bodies are theirs, their desires are valid, and their voices matter.

Some of us had supportive, inclusive sexual health education, but too many others had only silence or shame. Society still struggles to talk openly about blindness and sexuality on their own, let alone together.

As you prepare to enter the field as teachers and educators of the blind and orientation & mobility specialists, you have an extraordinary opportunity and responsibility to change this narrative. This article isn’t about adding another curriculum to your already full plate. It’s about recognizing that you’re already teaching the foundational skills that support sexual health, autonomy, and healthy relationships every time you work with students on the Expanded Core Curriculum.

You don’t have to be a sex education expert to start these conversations. You just have to be willing to stay open and curious enough to have them. Because here’s the truth: whether or not we talk about sexuality, our students are already getting messages about their bodies, their desirability, and their autonomy. And those messages are shaped by childism and ableism.

This article will show you how sexual health education naturally integrates into the ECC work you’re learning to do, provide you with language and examples you can use immediately, and most importantly, give you permission to embrace this essential aspect of your future students’ lives.

Understanding Childism and Ableism and Their Impact on Sexual Health

Before we dive into practical applications, let’s establish a shared understanding of the systemic barriers we’re working against.

Ableism

Ableism is the systemic belief (often unspoken) that disabled people are less capable, less valuable, or less worthy than nondisabled people. It shows up in the lessons we skip, the assumptions we carry, and the silences we maintain. It’s the reason students learn to name the parts of a flower but not the parts of their own bodies. It’s why blind students are left out of conversations about attraction, gender, pleasure, or identity.

When students start believing those messages about themselves, that’s internalized ableism. It’s the quiet voice that says, “No one will want me,” or “I shouldn’t ask for what I want,” or “My body isn’t normal.”

Childism

Equally important, and often unexamined, is childism. One definition stated in the zine “NO! Against Adult Supremacy, Vol 1” states:

“Every hierarchy, every abuse, every act of domination that seeks to justify or excuse itself appeals through analogy to the rule of adults over children. We are all indoctrinated from birth in ways of ‘because I said so.’ The flags of supposed experience, benevolence, and familial obligation are the first of many paraded through our lives to celebrate the suppression of our agency, the dismissal of our desires, the reduction of our personhood. Our whole world is caught in a cycle of abuse, largely unexamined and unnamed. And at its root lies our dehumanization of children.”

Childism is the systematic devaluing and dismissal of children’s personhood, autonomy, and experiences simply because they are young. In the context of sexual health education, childism shows up when we:

●       Refuse to answer students’ questions about their bodies because they’re “too young”

●       Withhold anatomically correct language because we think children can’t handle it

●       Dismiss students’ feelings, attractions, or identities as “just a phase”

●       Make decisions about students’ bodies without their input or consent

●       Assume students don’t need or deserve information about pleasure, boundaries, or autonomy

When childism and ableism intersect, blind children and youth face compounded marginalization. They’re told they’re too young to understand and too disabled to participate. Their questions are dismissed. Their autonomy is diminished. Their sexuality is either ignored entirely or treated as inappropriate, dangerous, or non-existent.

How These Show Up in Your Future Practice

In your future practice, you’ll encounter both ableism and childism in many forms:

●       Parents who say, “My child doesn’t need to know about that”

●       Colleagues who skip over sexual health topics in hygiene lessons

●       Curricula that assume all students can see anatomical diagrams

●       Healthcare providers who don’t make their materials accessible

●       Students who’ve internalized the message that their bodies are shameful or that they’re not “relationship material”

●       Adults who talk over students, make decisions for them, or dismiss their questions as inappropriate

Here’s what’s powerful about your role: None of us built these systems, but each of us can help dismantle them. As future educators of the blind, you’re positioned to interrupt these patterns early and consistently. You can model that blind students deserve complete information, that their bodies and desires are valid, that their voices and choices matter, and that autonomy begins with knowledge and respect.

A New Framework: Sexual Health is Already in the ECC

Sexual health isn’t just about reproduction or preventing risk. In its most comprehensive form, sexual health encompasses:

●       Communication and self-advocacy

●       Decision-making and consent

●       Relationships and emotional intimacy

●       Identity exploration (gender, orientation, attraction)

●       Pleasure and bodily autonomy

●       Safety and boundary-setting

●       Health promotion and self-care

Look at that list again. These are the exact skills embedded throughout the Expanded Core Curriculum. You’re already teaching students to communicate their needs, make decisions about their bodies, navigate social interactions, advocate for themselves, and develop independence in daily living.

This isn’t about adding more to your plate. It’s about giving you permission and language to name what you’re already doing.

The PLISSIT Model: A Framework for Your Practice

To support you in this work, I want to share a model originally developed for psychosocial sexual counseling that has since been adapted to sexual health education. I’m now passing it on to you as parents, teachers, and educators of the blind, because this is useful information for everybody to have, especially people in positions of power working with children.

The PLISSIT model provides a framework for understanding the different levels of support you can offer students around sexual health:

P – Permission Giving
This is about creating a safe, shame-free environment where students know it’s okay to be curious, ask questions, and explore their bodies and identities. Permission giving happens when you use anatomical language casually, when you normalize bodily experiences, and when you affirm that students’ feelings and questions are valid.

Examples:

●       Using words like “vulva” and “penis” matter-of-factly during hygiene lessons

●       Saying “It’s normal to be curious about your body”

●       Responding to questions without shock or discomfort

LI – Limited Information
This involves providing brief, accurate, factual information that directly addresses a student’s question or concern. You’re not giving a comprehensive sex education course in one conversation. You’re offering the specific information needed in that moment.

Examples:

●       “Erections can happen randomly, especially during puberty. It doesn’t mean anything is wrong.”

●       “Masturbation is when someone touches their own genitals because it feels good. It’s normal and private.”

●       “People who menstruate usually start between ages 9 and 16.”

SS – Specific Suggestions
This level involves offering concrete strategies, skills, or solutions to help students navigate situations or challenges. You’re providing actionable guidance tailored to their specific circumstances.

Examples:

●       Teaching how to track a menstrual cycle with accessible apps

●       Practicing how to ask for accessible health information from a doctor

●       Role-playing how to respond when someone violates a boundary

●       Demonstrating how to open a condom package

IT – Intensive Therapy
This level involves ongoing therapeutic support for complex issues, trauma, or mental health concerns. This is beyond the scope of educators, but it’s crucial to know when a student needs this level of support and how to connect them with appropriate professionals.

When to consider referral:

●       Student has experienced sexual trauma or abuse

●       Student shows signs of significant distress around sexuality or body image

●       Student has questions about sexual dysfunction or persistent pain

●       Student needs support for gender dysphoria or identity-related mental health concerns

All four levels are valid and valuable depending on the situation. You don’t need to progress through them in order. Sometimes a student just needs permission. Sometimes they need specific suggestions immediately. Your role is to assess what level of support is most appropriate in each moment and recognize when to connect students with additional resources.

The following sections demonstrate how these levels of support naturally integrate into your ECC work. You’ll see PLISSIT in action throughout, sometimes explicitly noted and sometimes woven naturally into the examples. Pay attention to how permission giving, limited information, specific suggestions, and knowing when to refer can all happen within the contexts you’re already teaching.

Anatomy and Body Awareness

Why This Matters for Your Students

Students need clear, affirming language to describe their bodies, all parts of their bodies. That includes naming genitals like vulva, penis, and anus with the same comfort and ease we use for head, shoulders, knees, and toes. This is how we teach students that their bodies are whole, worthy of care, and not subjects to be avoided or considered taboo.

Anatomy education isn’t confined to biology class. It shows up in lessons on hygiene, in learning how to ask for help, in developing an understanding of sensation and consent, and in building body literacy. If a student doesn’t know the names of their body parts, how can they set boundaries, explore pleasure safely, or communicate with healthcare providers?

A Story from the Field

Early in my work as a sexual health professional in the blind community, I participated in a design sprint at General Assembly in San Francisco (circa 2016-2017). I was part of a panel discussing gaps in sexual health education, specifically the lack of accessibility and inclusion for blind and disabled individuals.

I held up a 3D anatomically correct model of the clitoris. For those who haven’t seen or felt one: the clitoris has an inverted Y or wishbone shape. The external part (the glans) is small and rounded, forming the top of the Y. But most of the clitoris is internal. Two elongated structures called the crura extend downward like the branches of a wishbone, and the vestibular bulbs form the base on either side of the vaginal opening. The whole structure is roughly the size of your palm when you make a peace sign.

I asked this room full of sighted individuals if anyone knew what I was holding. Only a couple of people raised their hands. As I passed it around, the response was overwhelmingly positive. A majority of the people in that room learned something about female anatomy that day. More importantly, they learned something about the needs of blind and disabled people when it comes to accessing information about sexual health.

Here’s the critical point: It wasn’t until 1998 that Australian urologist Helen O’Connell fully mapped the anatomical structure of the clitoris through cadaveric dissections and MRI scans. The first complete 3D sonography of the stimulated clitoris wasn’t published until 2008-2009. An organ that exists in roughly half the population was only fully understood by medical science at the turn of this century.

If sighted people with full access to visual diagrams don’t know this anatomy, how can we expect blind students to understand their bodies when we skip over these details or rely solely on visual materials?

That 3D clitoris model became one of my most valued teaching tools and eventually inspired my logo: a red anatomically correct clitoris holding a white cane, representing both blind positivity and sex positivity. I even imagined it as a character from Monsters Inc., complete with a cape and hood, using its super powerful sensing abilities to fight injustice. (Pixar, if you’re reading this, I have ideas.)

Where This Lives in the ECC

Compensatory Access:
Use tactile diagrams, 3D models, and audio descriptions that include all body parts, not just the ones considered “safe” or “appropriate.” Naming the clitoris is just as important as naming the wrist. Whether it’s a 3D-printed model, a tactile graphic, or a life-sized cardboard cutout, what matters is ensuring blind students have equal access to hands-on anatomy education.

These tools help students understand public versus private body parts without relying on visual diagrams. Important language note: Avoid phrases like “secret parts” because secrets imply shame. Instead, use words like private, personal, or shared with permission to promote agency and clarity.

Independent Living Skills (ILS):
Hygiene routines are natural opportunities to model comfort with anatomical language. If we hesitate to say “vulva,” students learn that shame is part of the lesson. If we say it casually while teaching bathing routines, they learn dignity.

Self-Determination:
When students are told that their whole body matters (not just the parts we’re comfortable discussing), they gain confidence to express discomfort, set boundaries, or explore safely on their own terms.

Assistive Technology:
Support students in using inclusive, accessible anatomy resources: screen reader-friendly websites, described models, and audio-based educational tools. AI, in particular, now offers a private and powerful way to learn about sex, pleasure, and boundaries. When I was young, I had to flip through medical journals in library stacks, hoping I was looking at the right diagrams. Today’s students with assistive technology skills can explore what many of us had to search for in silence, and that’s progress worth celebrating.

Modeling Permission and Language

This isn’t about memorizing scripts. It’s about modeling comfort and permission. This is Permission (P) in action. If you’ve ever sung “Head, shoulders, knees, and toes,” you already know how to list body parts. We’re just adding the parts that get left out:

“Head, shoulders, vulvas, penises, knees, and toes.”

When we model that it’s okay to say these words, we give students the power to say things like:

●       “That’s my vulva. I don’t want it touched.”

●       “I like my vulva!”

●       “My penis feels tingly. Is that normal?”

●       “My penis is private, for me only.”

●       “My anus doesn’t feel good. What do I do?”

In hygiene lessons, you might say:

●       “Let’s go over how to take care of your whole body when you shower or bathe. Wash behind your ears, under your arms, your vulva or penis, your anus, and your feet. Just like everything else, these parts need attention and care. If you have a vulva, you can gently wash the outside with warm water. No soap is needed on the inside because the vulva cleans itself.”

By teaching that talking about bodies is normal and healthy, we help students learn that every part of them deserves safety, care, and respect. Notice how this combines Permission (normalizing the language) with Limited Information (basic hygiene facts) without overwhelming the student.

Puberty and Body Changes

Why This Matters for Your Students

Puberty is a time of physical, emotional, and sensory change. Students might experience menstruation, erections, changes in skin, hair, voice, or even how they relate to touch or clothing. But this is not a “girls do this, boys do that” conversation. It’s a “bodies change in many ways” conversation.

Blind students deserve puberty education that reflects body diversity, doesn’t rely on visual cues, and doesn’t assume gender based on biology.

Where This Lives in the ECC

Independent Living Skills:
Teach how to manage new hygiene needs like period care, deodorant application, shaving, or changing underwear more frequently. This is where anatomy vocabulary becomes practical and essential.

Compensatory Access:
Many signs of puberty are visual (acne, breast growth, body hair patterns). Students benefit from descriptive information to understand these changes: “You might notice your chest feeling tender or fuller,” or “Most people’s skin produces more oil during puberty, which you might feel when washing your face or touching your forehead.”

Self-Awareness:
Help students notice and name how their body feels during changes, whether that’s physical arousal, increased body odor, emotional shifts, or new sensations. Encourage them to track patterns without judgment or shame.

Sensory Efficiency:
Support students in mapping body sensations like warmth, pressure, tingling, or tightness as non-visual indicators of puberty-related changes.

Modeling Permission and Language

Don’t wait for a student to bring it up. Model that puberty is an expected, welcome, and normal part of growing up. The following examples show how you can offer Limited Information that addresses common concerns without creating unnecessary anxiety:

Instead of: “All teenagers get moody going through puberty”
Try: “During puberty, your emotions might feel more intense or change more quickly. That could mean wanting more space sometimes, wanting more connection other times, or feeling things more deeply. All of that is normal.”

Instead of: “You’ll feel your body change”
Try: “You might notice new sensations: tingling, tenderness, or pressure in places like your chest, genitals, or belly. Those feelings are your body’s way of telling you it’s developing. You can always ask questions about what you’re experiencing.”

Instead of: “Girls get periods”
Try: “People who menstruate usually start sometime between ages 9 and 16. When that happens, we’ll figure out together what supplies work best for you, whether that’s pads, tampons, menstrual cups, or period underwear. We can create a supply kit so you’re prepared.”

Being clear and open about what bodies go through helps students understand their own needs and reduces fear or confusion about the changes they’re experiencing.

Consent and Boundaries

Why This Matters for Your Students

Consent is not just about saying no. It’s about being in charge of your body and your choices. It means knowing how to ask for something, how to pause, how to check in, and how to set or respect a boundary.

Students need to know that consent applies everywhere, not just in sexual contexts, but in shared spaces, friendships, conversations, and physical guidance during O&M instruction.

When students have the language of consent, understand it, and have opportunities to practice giving consent, setting boundaries, saying yes, and saying no, they are able to have more agency over their lives. When we model consent in action in real time, we give them skills and tools to navigate a lifetime of interactions.

The FRIES Model of Consent

To help students understand what healthy consent looks like, we can use the FRIES model. While this framework is often taught in sexual health contexts, it applies to ALL consent situations: from accepting help crossing a street to deciding whether to hug a relative to choosing whether to engage in sexual activity.

Consent should be:

F – Freely Given
Real consent happens without pressure, manipulation, or coercion. Students should never feel forced or guilted into saying yes. This applies to accepting physical guidance, participating in activities, or any other interaction.

R – Reversible
Anyone can change their mind at any time, even if they initially said yes. Students need to know they can withdraw consent whenever they feel uncomfortable, and that their “I changed my mind” is valid and must be respected.

I – Informed
Students need to understand what they’re agreeing to. This means having complete, accurate information before making a decision. Whether it’s understanding what will happen during an O&M lesson or what a social interaction involves, informed consent requires clarity.

E – Enthusiastic
Consent isn’t just the absence of a “no.” It’s an active, willing “yes.” Students should feel comfortable expressing genuine interest or agreement, not just going along to avoid conflict.

S – Specific
Saying yes to one thing doesn’t mean saying yes to everything. Consent for a high five doesn’t mean consent for a hug. Consent to try one intersection independently doesn’t mean consent to all intersections. Each situation requires its own consent.

Remember: FRIES isn’t just about sexual health. It’s about bodily autonomy, respect, and power in all interactions. When we give students the language and the name for what healthy consent looks like, when we identify what’s happening in real time, and when we work on solutions together, we end up with more empowered students.

Where This Lives in the ECC

Orientation & Mobility:
Model asking before offering touch, and invite students to choose how they want support:

●       “Would you like to take my arm, or would you prefer I describe the environment while you navigate independently?”

●       “I’m going to touch your shoulder to show you where the door handle is. Is that okay with you?”

●       “Would you like to try this intersection on your own, or would you like me to walk alongside you this time?”

Social Interaction Skills:
Practice scripts for offering, declining, and adjusting contact or conversation:

●       “I’m not comfortable with hugs, but I’d love a high five.”

●       “Can we talk about something else? This topic is hard for me right now.”

●       “I need you to stop touching my hair.”

Self-Determination:
Encourage students to make decisions about their comfort and trust themselves to stick to those decisions even when others are disappointed.

Career Education:
Teach how to set professional boundaries, respond to inappropriate questions, or handle discomfort with coworkers or supervisors.

Modeling Permission and Language

Consent education starts with adults asking students what they want. These examples demonstrate how Permission and Limited Information can be woven into everyday interactions:

●       “Would you like help, or do you want to do it on your own?”

●       “Do you want a high five, or would you prefer I just say congratulations?”

●       “Do you want to keep talking about this, or take a break?”

●       “Before we cross this street, how would you like to approach it? Would you like time to analyze the intersection together, or would you prefer to lead and I’ll follow your pace? You get to decide what feels right today.”

●       “If someone ever touches you in a way that doesn’t feel good (even if you thought it would be okay when it started), you can always say, ‘I changed my mind,’ or ‘Please stop.’ Your feelings can change, and that’s completely okay.”

These phrases build a foundation. Students learn:

●       They can choose how to approach tasks and interactions

●       Their “no” is enough and deserves respect

●       Their “yes” should be honest, freely offered, and can be revoked at any time

●       Their “maybe” deserves time for reflection

A Story About the Power of “No”

I was working with a transitional age student on understanding consent and boundaries. We were discussing how consent works in various contexts, and I explained that anyone can say no at any time, even if they initiated the interaction.

They were shocked. They told me they thought that if they had started something (whether that was a conversation, a hug, or anything else), they had to follow through with it. The idea that their “no” was valid even after saying “yes” initially was completely new to them.

We had a deeper conversation about consent and boundaries and the power of their no. It was clear from this conversation that this information was coming a little too late, and at the same time, it was clear that it would likely change their life.

This wasn’t just about sexual situations. This was about them learning that they had agency over their life, their body, and their choices in every interaction. When we model consent in action in real time like this, we give students skills and tools to navigate a lifetime of interactions with confidence and self-respect.

When students struggle with boundary violations or show signs of trauma around touch, this may require Intensive Therapy level support. Know how to connect them with trauma-informed counselors who understand disability.

Masturbation and Privacy

Why This Matters for Your Students

Masturbation is a safe, common, and healthy form of self-exploration. But too often, blind students don’t receive direct information about it. Or worse, they’re punished for behavior that no one ever taught them was private.

Teaching about masturbation isn’t about encouraging it. It’s about removing shame and giving students tools to understand privacy, hygiene, and pleasure.

A Story from Practice

A family member and I were watching the TV show Speechless when a scene came on where a young character in high school was giving a speech in front of the entire school and experienced a spontaneous erection, which led to mortification and embarrassment. This young family member was trying to understand the context and what was happening.

This is a perfect example of where a parent or educator could gloss over the situation or use it as a teaching opportunity. We talked about erections, spontaneous erections, and even discussed some life advice on how to deal with shame or embarrassment when bodies do what bodies are gonna do. Because bodies are gonna do what bodies are gonna do.

These everyday moments are golden opportunities to normalize bodily experiences without making them a big, awkward “talk.”

Another Story: The Pancake Conversation

When I was a child, a family member was making pancakes one morning. I asked why we had to wash our hands before breakfast when we’d already taken a bath the night before. The response was simple: “Sometimes we touch ourselves at night.”

It wasn’t until years later that I realized this was about masturbation. But what I learned in that moment (without shame or discomfort) was that touching our bodies is normal, and washing our hands is just part of taking care of ourselves.

That brief, matter-of-fact exchange taught me more about healthy attitudes toward my body than many formal lessons could have.

Where This Lives in the ECC

Independent Living Skills:
Model handwashing, laundry routines, and cleaning up after personal care (including masturbation) without shame or awkwardness. Normalize that this is just another aspect of hygiene and self-care.

Self-Determination:
Give students permission to explore what feels good and decide what’s right for them. Bodily autonomy includes the right to pleasure.

Social Interaction Skills:
Help students understand privacy expectations in dorms, group settings, and shared spaces. What’s private at home might need different boundaries in other environments.

Recreation and Leisure:
Recognize that solo sensory pleasure (sexual or not) is part of how people unwind and connect with themselves.

Modeling Permission and Language

Many students aren’t given language for self-pleasure because we treat children, especially disabled children, as if they’re asexual or incapable of experiencing pleasure. Masturbation is rarely acknowledged in a developmentally appropriate way, and when it is, it’s often framed through silence or shame.

When a student touches themselves in a public setting, it’s not misbehavior. It’s a teaching moment. They may not yet understand what masturbation is or how to navigate private versus public behavior. This is an opportunity to offer Permission and Limited Information while providing Specific Suggestions for appropriate contexts:

●       “That’s called masturbation, when someone touches their genitals because it feels good. It’s a normal and healthy thing many people do. It’s something private though, which means it should only happen in spaces where you’re alone with the door closed and no one can see in. If you have questions about it, I’m here to talk.”

●       “If you’re alone in your room and you feel like touching your body to explore what feels good, that’s your private space. Just like when we brush our teeth or take a shower, we wash our hands before and after because it’s part of caring for ourselves.”

●       “Sometimes our bodies become aroused. Your penis might get hard or your vulva might feel tingly or warm. This can happen when you’re relaxed, when you’re thinking about something pleasant, or even randomly for no clear reason. It doesn’t mean anything is wrong. It’s just your body working the way bodies work.”

For educators who don’t feel comfortable going into detail, that’s okay. You can still affirm the student and gently set boundaries without reinforcing shame:

●       “That’s something that’s okay to do in private. If you ever want to learn more or have questions, I can help you find someone to talk to or share resources.”

You don’t have to say everything. But what you do say should affirm the student’s right to explore, experience, and learn about their own body in ways that are safe, private, and shame-free.

Relationships and Emotional Intimacy

Why This Matters for Your Students

Students deserve to understand how relationships form: how to express affection, build trust, and feel seen. Whether it’s friendship, romance, chosen family, or something else entirely, blind students deserve language and skills for intimacy in all its forms.

Where This Lives in the ECC

Social Interaction Skills:
Teach how to express interest, affirm boundaries, and build connection:

●       How to ask someone to hang out

●       How to tell if someone wants to continue a conversation

●       How to end an interaction gracefully

●       How to navigate rejection with dignity

Self-Determination:
Help students define what they want and desire in relationships, not what they think they should want.

Orientation & Mobility:
Navigate social spaces with intention: restaurants, coffee shops, group events. Practice how to meet people in various environments.

Recreation and Leisure:
Support access to blind-positive, queer-friendly, and accessible social spaces where students can meet others and build community.

Modeling Permission and Language

It’s important that students feel valued and supported as they explore relationships in various parts of their lives:

●       “You are lovable. You are a desirable friend and companion. You are allowed to have feelings and act on them.”

●       “If you like someone, you could say something like, ‘I really enjoy spending time with you. Would you want to hang out again sometime?’ You get to express what you’re feeling, and they get to respond honestly. Whatever their answer is, you were brave for asking.”

●       “You might not get the exact kind of connection or intimacy you’re hoping for with someone. That’s okay. There may be other ways to stay connected and maintain a relationship with them if you both want that.”

●       “It’s okay to feel disappointed when someone doesn’t feel the same way you do. But that doesn’t mean you were wrong to express your feelings or wrong to hope. You should feel proud of yourself for being brave enough to be honest about what you wanted.”

This approach helps students understand what they want and name it, not just to themselves but to others, without assuming what relationships “should” look like.

Gender Identity and Sexual Orientation

Why This Matters for Your Students

Students need to know that identity (including gender, orientation, and attraction) is personal, fluid, and valid. Blind students often don’t see themselves reflected in LGBTQ+ narratives or media. They deserve support to name who they are and what feels right to them without pressure to explain or conform.

Where This Lives in the ECC

Self-Determination:
Encourage students to define who they are without pressure to explain or conform to others’ expectations.

Recreation and Leisure:
Provide access to queer-blind-friendly media, spaces, and resources. Help students find community with others who share their identities.

Social Interaction Skills:
Practice inclusive language, asking and affirming pronouns, and navigating identity-based conversations with confidence.

Career Education:
Prepare students for navigating identity in the workplace: how to set boundaries, whether and how to disclose aspects of their identity, and how to respond to inappropriate questions.

Modeling Permission and Language

Students need compassion, kindness, and support as they explore various aspects of their identities. Remember, all levels of PLISSIT apply here. Sometimes students just need permission to explore. Other times they need specific resources or referrals.

Instead of: “Are you sure?” or “You’re too young to know”
Try:

●       “You get to use the name and pronouns that feel most right to you, even if they change later.” (Permission)

●       “Some people are only into one gender. Some are into many. Some people don’t feel romantic attraction at all. There’s no rule about how you have to feel.” (Limited Information)

●       “When someone introduces themselves with they/them pronouns, use those pronouns naturally in conversation. For example: ‘Jordan said they’ll join us after lunch,’ or ‘I really appreciated their input on the project.’ It’s that simple. Just use the pronouns someone has shared with you.” (Specific Suggestions)

●       “If you’re still figuring out what kinds of people you’re attracted to (or if you’re realizing you’re not attracted to anyone in particular), that’s completely okay. There’s no deadline for understanding yourself.” (Permission)

If a student is experiencing significant distress around their gender identity or sexual orientation, including depression, anxiety, or family conflict, they may benefit from Intensive Therapy with a counselor who specializes in LGBTQ+ affirming care and disability. Know how to connect them with these resources.

A Story About Knowing When to Refer

A young person came out to their family as transgender the week before our summer camp. Like all the other blind students at camp, they had needs around independence, orientation and mobility, and social connection. But they also had specific needs to understand their legal rights when it came to housing, employment, education, and healthcare as a transgender person.

I simply did not have enough knowledge to answer all of their questions. And that was okay.

That’s when you refer out and find resources. We were able to connect with the Transgender Law Center in Oakland, where I was able to not only help this young person get all the information they needed, but I also got an education myself. I learned about legal protections, name change processes, healthcare access, and resources I could share with future students.

It is definitely okay not to know everything. In fact, it’s probably best for everyone if you refer out when you’re uncomfortable or don’t know the answer. Recognizing the limits of your knowledge and connecting students with specialized support is not a failure. It’s good practice. It’s ethical. And it models for students that asking for help and seeking expertise is a strength, not a weakness.

Creating a safe environment for students to explore their identity helps them understand themselves and others, and lets them know they are valid and cared for whatever their realizations may be.

Reproduction and Contraception

Why This Matters for Your Students

Blind students need the same access as sighted students to learn how pregnancy happens, how to prevent it, and what options exist if it occurs. Teaching reproduction means making it real, tactile, and inclusive, not shaming, assuming, or skipping critical information.

This includes naming the options (like condoms, birth control pills, IUDs, and emergency contraception) and giving blind students hands-on experience learning how to access and use them.

A Critical Story About Access

A blind woman once shared with me the importance of understanding every aspect of your medication before leaving the pharmacy. She explained that she knew her birth control had a placebo week, but she didn’t understand the layout of the pill pack. Instead of taking the pills week by week (day 1 of week 1, day 2 of week 1, etc.), she took them by going across the top of the pack: week 1 day 1, week 2 day 1, week 3 day 1, week 4 day 1. Since week 4 day 1 was a placebo pill, she was essentially taking three active pills and one placebo every four days.

This is not how the instructions work. And this isn’t just about birth control. It’s about the critical importance of accessible medication information, proper labeling, and never assuming a student understands something just because they nodded or didn’t ask questions.

Where This Lives in the ECC

Independent Living Skills:
Teach students how to store, label, and access contraception with privacy and independence. Practice reading medication labels, setting reminders, and organizing supplies.

Compensatory Access:
Ensure tactile access to contraceptive options and full descriptions of how they work. This includes hands-on practice with condoms, feeling different types of birth control packaging, and understanding how to identify medications independently.

Self-Advocacy:
Help students learn to ask for information clearly and request alternative formats from healthcare providers:

●       “Can you read that label out loud for me?”

●       “Can I get the instructions in an accessible format?”

●       “I need large print or braille labels for my medication.”

Assistive Technology:
Introduce accessible period or fertility tracking apps, birth control reminder apps, and other tools that support reproductive health management.

Modeling Permission and Language

Approach conversations about reproduction with a supportive and interested attitude. Here you’ll see how Specific Suggestions (hands-on practice) can be just as important as Limited Information:

●       “Lots of people choose to have sex. Some want to get pregnant, and some don’t. If you ever want to know how to protect yourself or someone else from pregnancy or STIs, you deserve accurate and complete information.”

●       “Knowing how to use a condom or other kinds of birth control is about being prepared, not about whether you’re sexually active right now. It’s a skill, just like knowing how to cook or take medication safely.”

●       “Let’s practice opening a condom without tearing it, and identifying which direction it unrolls. That way, if you ever want to use one, you won’t be figuring it out for the first time in the moment.” (Specific Suggestions in action)

●       “This is an example of a birth control pill pack. Most people who use birth control pills take one every day at the same time. If you’re ever interested, we can talk about which methods might work best for your body and lifestyle.”

A clear understanding of reproduction and birth control helps students make informed and conscientious decisions about their bodies and their lives.

STIs and Testing

Why This Matters for Your Students

Sexually transmitted infections (STIs) are a normal part of health education. What students need is not fear, but facts and access. They need to know how infections spread, how to get tested, and how to communicate with partners and healthcare providers.

Where This Lives in the ECC

Self-Advocacy:
Teach students how to advocate with healthcare providers, request accommodations at clinics or pharmacies, and ask for information in accessible formats.

Community Access:
Prepare students to navigate STI clinics or telehealth appointments confidently and independently. Practice calling to make appointments, finding clinic locations, and using public transportation to get there.

Independent Living Skills:
Teach how to schedule and attend appointments, track health records, and follow up on care. This includes understanding test results and knowing when to seek follow-up treatment.

Assistive Technology:
Use accessible websites, health portals, and directories to learn about STI prevention and testing options. Teach students how to research clinics that offer accessible services.

Modeling Permission and Language

Be direct, respectful, and clear when talking about STIs. Avoid euphemisms like “being clean”:

●       “Getting tested doesn’t mean you did something wrong. It means you care about yourself and your partners. It’s part of how we stay healthy.”

●       “STIs are common, and most are treatable. Getting an STI doesn’t say anything about your value as a person.”

●       “Want to practice calling a clinic to ask what accessibility options they have for blind patients? That way, you’re ready if you need it.”

●       “You can say, ‘Can you read those results out loud for me?’ or ‘Can I get that information in an accessible format?’ You have a right to understand your own healthcare.”

Helping students navigate potential health concerns around sex reduces societal shame and stigma and empowers them to take better care of themselves and make informed decisions.

Pleasure and Communication

Why This Matters for Your Students

Students have the right to explore what feels good, to express what they like, and to talk about it. That includes sexual touch, non-sexual touch, emotional connection, and sensory input.

But pleasure education in this context isn’t just about sexuality or intimacy. It’s about modeling how students deserve to be treated in all aspects of their lives. When we teach students that their preferences matter, that comfort is important, and that they have the right to say “this feels good” or “this doesn’t feel good,” we’re teaching them that their sensory experiences and bodily autonomy are valid.

This shows up in simple, everyday interactions:

●       “Would you like a firm handshake or a gentler one?”

●       “Some people find this texture uncomfortable. How does it feel to you?”

●       “You can adjust the temperature, lighting, or seating until it feels right for you.”

●       “It’s okay to say when something doesn’t feel good, even if other people like it.”

Pleasure education means asking: What do you enjoy? What makes you feel good? How do you want to be touched? How do you want to be seen? These questions apply to every aspect of life, not just intimate relationships.

Where This Lives in the ECC

Social Interaction Skills:
Teach students how to talk about preferences, offer feedback, and check in with others:

●       “I really like when you hug me like this.”

●       “That doesn’t feel good to me. Could we try something different?”

●       “Can I hold your hand?”

Self-Determination:
Support students in making decisions about what feels good to them, not what they’re told they should want or enjoy.

Sensory Efficiency:
Invite students to track and understand their body’s response to different types of touch and sensory input. Help them develop language for what feels pleasant, uncomfortable, or neutral.

Recreation and Leisure:
Recognize that joy, comfort, and arousal are part of leisure too, not just function or care.

Modeling Permission and Language

It’s easy to focus on what isn’t supposed to happen, but that can lead to anxiety and shame about desire and pleasure. Instead, try:

●       “You deserve to feel good. You’re allowed to explore what that means for you.”

●       “Pleasure looks different for everyone. There’s no right way to feel desire or express it, as long as everything is done with consent.”

●       “Some people like gentle touch. Some people like firm pressure. Some people like to be alone with a warm blanket. These are all forms of pleasure, and you get to figure out what yours looks like.”

●       “You can say, ‘I like when you hold me here,’ or ‘That doesn’t feel good. Can we try something different?’ That kind of communication makes touch and physical intimacy better and more respectful.”

Giving students tools to talk about and explore pleasure empowers them to be curious and to discover how to find and foster it in themselves and with others.

Body Image and Self-Esteem

Why This Matters for Your Students

Body image is a core topic in comprehensive sexual health education, but too often, it’s reduced to conversations about weight, appearance, or puberty. For blind students, the stakes are different. We all grow up surrounded by messages about what bodies are “supposed” to look like, but blindness is almost never depicted in a positive light. It’s absent from health education materials, stigmatized in media, or presented as something to pity or overcome.

This lack of representation fuels ableism (the belief that non-disabled bodies are more valuable) and often leads to internalized ableism, where students begin to believe their own bodies are “less than” or undeserving of attention, care, pleasure, or confidence.

In sexual health education, body image must go deeper than appearance. We must talk about how blind students experience their bodies: through movement, sensation, emotional connection, interdependence, and pride.

We shift the focus from what bodies look like to what they do, how they feel, and how students can learn to trust and appreciate their bodies in a world that often excludes them.

Where This Lives in the ECC

Self-Awareness:
Support students in noticing how they feel in their bodies, not just how others might perceive them. Help them develop language to describe comfort, pride, dysphoria, sensory overwhelm, or embodiment.

Social Interaction Skills:
Teach students how to identify and interrupt body-shaming language, whether directed at themselves or others. Encourage them to affirm one another through inclusive, non-appearance-based compliments and care.

Recreation and Leisure:
Offer opportunities for creative expression and joyful movement that emphasize how a body feels, not how it looks. Dance, adaptive sports, yoga, and tactile arts can all support embodied self-esteem.

Career Education:
Prepare students to present themselves confidently in professional settings without feeling pressure to hide or downplay their blind or disabled identity. Discuss clothing choices, grooming, and communication in ways that affirm their body and identity.

Modeling Permission and Language

We model positive body image through what we say and what we do (and don’t do) with our bodies. These responses offer Permission and Limited Information while validating students’ experiences:

●       “Your body is not the problem. The way people treat you might be uncomfortable, but your body is good.”

●       “What’s something your body helped you do this week that made you feel proud?”

●       “That’s a really common stereotype. But blind people have all kinds of bodies, just like everyone else. You deserve to feel good in yours.”

●       “There’s no one right way to look or move or be. What matters most is that you get to decide how you feel in your own body. Your body is already enough.”

Building comfort in students helps them move with greater confidence through a world that too often is not accessible or accommodating, and allows them to advocate more easily for themselves and their needs.

If a student shows signs of disordered eating, extreme negative self-talk, self-harm, or severe body dysmorphia,these concerns require Intensive Therapy beyond what educators can provide. Connect them with mental health professionals who understand both disability and body image issues.

Closing: What We Teach When We Teach It All

When we talk about sex, pleasure, boundaries, and bodies, we’re not teaching something extra. We’re teaching self-worth. We’re teaching power. We’re teaching love.

The Expanded Core Curriculum has always been about autonomy, access, and independence. This is just the next step.

Coming Back to Where We Started

Remember at the beginning of this article when I shared my own question after being diagnosed: Will anyone want to date me now? Will I still have a family? That internalized ableism, that fear, that silence didn’t have to be my story. And it doesn’t have to be your students’ story either.

Maybe right now you’re thinking: “But this isn’t my field. I’m not a sex educator. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I don’t know the answer?”

That’s exactly why we gave you the PLISSIT model.

You don’t need to be an expert in sexuality to support your students in this area. The framework shows you exactly what’s within your scope:

●       Permission is just creating a shame-free environment and using accurate language

●       Limited Information is answering direct questions with brief, factual responses

●       Specific Suggestions is teaching practical skills you’re already equipped to teach

●       Intensive Therapy is knowing when to refer out, just like you would for any other specialized need

When that young person came to camp having just come out as transgender, I didn’t have all the answers about legal rights and healthcare access. But I knew how to connect them with the Transgender Law Center. That wasn’t a failure. That was good practice.

When I worked with the transitional age student who didn’t know they could say no after saying yes, I didn’t need a PhD in sexuality. I just needed to model consent, provide language, and have an honest conversation with them about the power of their no.

You already do this work. Every time you ask a student, “Would you like to take my arm, or would you prefer to navigate independently?” you’re teaching consent. Every time you teach hygiene and name all body parts without shame, you’re giving permission. Every time you help a student advocate for accessible materials, you’re building the exact skills they need to advocate for their sexual health.

Dismantling Childism and Ableism Together

When we give students the language for childism and ableism, when we identify what’s happening, when we work on solutions together, we end up with more empowered students. The same is true for consent, for pleasure, for identity, for all of it.

Both childism and ableism teach students that their voices don’t matter, that adults and professionals know better, that their bodies aren’t truly theirs. When we interrupt these patterns by respecting students’ autonomy, answering their questions honestly, and treating them as whole people deserving of complete information, we break the cycle.

Your students deserve to know:

●       That their bodies are good

●       That pleasure is not shameful

●       That they can say yes, no, or maybe, and change their minds

●       That they are worthy of love, connection, and respect

●       That blind people have rich, fulfilling sexual and romantic lives

●       That asking for what they want is a strength

●       That their boundaries matter

●       That their questions are valid, not inappropriate

●       That they have the right to information about their own bodies and lives

As you prepare to enter the field, remember: you don’t need to be a sexuality expert to support your students in this area. You already have the PLISSIT framework to guide you. You just need to be willing to:

●       Give Permission by using accurate language for all body parts without shame and normalizing conversations about bodies and pleasure

●       Provide Limited Information that’s factual, brief, and directly responsive to students’ questions and developmental needs

●       Offer Specific Suggestions through role-playing, hands-on practice, and concrete strategies students can use

●       Know when to refer for Intensive Therapy when students need support beyond your scope

●       Model consent in every interaction, from O&M lessons to classroom conversations

●       Interrupt ableism and childism when you see them, in curricula, in colleague comments, in student self-talk

●       Trust that your students are whole people who deserve complete information about their bodies, their rights, and their potential for connection, pleasure, and love

Don’t wait for a perfect script. Don’t wait for permission from a supervisor or a curriculum guide. Don’t wait until you feel like an expert.

Start with what you already know:

That your students are worthy of care.
That they have a right to their bodies, their boundaries, their pleasure, and their joy.
And that you’re already the kind of educator who is brave enough to teach it.

Let’s not wait. Let’s begin.

About the Author

Laura Millar, MPH, M.A., MCHES, is a co-founder of the Blind Sexuality Access Network (BSAN), a growing network of blind professionals and community members dedicated to expanding the conversation around sexuality in the blind community. As a blind queer mother navigating multiple disabilities and chronic illnesses, her personal experiences enrich and shape her professional expertise. She holds a Master of Public Health and a Master of Arts in Human Sexuality from San Francisco State University and is a Master Certified Health Education Specialist. Her work focuses on dismantling ableism in sexual health education for blind people of all ages through coaching, consultancy, research, and community organizing.

Her logo features a red anatomically correct clitoris holding a white cane, representing both blind positivity and sex positivity at the intersection of her work.

Connect and Get Involved:
Follow the Blind Sexuality Access Network in the new year to learn how to get plugged into the network and join the conversation. Visit www.lauramillar.com and www.blindsexualityaccessnetwork.org, or support this work through Laura’s Patreon.

Author’s Note

This post was written and compiled with the support of artificial intelligence. While AI assisted with organization, formatting, and editing, the heart of this piece comes from a much deeper collective source. These words are my own, but the wisdom within them is shared, drawn from generations of disabled advocates, organizers, and disability justice leaders whose work and lived experience have shaped the language of access, equity, and liberation. They have been an integral part of my personal and professional journey. I write from their shoulders, carrying forward what they have taught us: that access is love, and that justice begins with the courage to listen, learn, and act.

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When Health Literacy Excludes: A Blind Public Health Professional’s Call to Action

Image Description: A black screen with white text that reads the single word “Image.” This is what blind and deafblind people encounter when public health information is presented without accessibility, the word “image” where information should be.

Blog Excerpt

Imagine that behind that black screen with the word “Image” on it is important health information that could keep you safe, keep you healthy, or even save your life in an emergency—but you cannot access it. That is what it is like for millions of blind and disabled individuals who rely on alt text or image descriptions to understand the information being conveyed. In this case, that information is public health information—vital guidance that determines who stays safe, who gets care, and who is left behind.

A reflection on ableism, access, and accountability in public health. Public health cannot claim health literacy without accessibility. As a blind public health professional and sociologist living with retinitis pigmentosa, I share why alt text, image descriptions, captions, transcripts, and audio description must become non-negotiable standards across classrooms, departments, conferences, and accreditation. Equality and achievement begin with access.

To My Fellow Public Health Professionals

This message is for you: professors teaching the next generation, practitioners in local and state health departments, communications directors crafting public health campaigns, conference organizers showcasing our field’s best work, accrediting bodies setting our professional standards, and news outlets translating public health information for the public.

You entered this field because you care about reaching people. You believe in health equity. You understand that information can save lives, but only if people can access it.

Here’s what I need you to understand: right now, the health information you are creating is not reaching everyone. You are leaving out blind, deafblind, and disabled communities, people whose access needs should have been part of your design from the start. The people being excluded are not just members of the public; they include your colleagues. They include me, and it directly impacts my ability to do my job.

October is both Health Literacy Month and Blind Equality Achievement Month. These two observances share a fundamental truth: access is everything. Without it, there can be no understanding. Without understanding, there can be no informed decision-making. Without informed decision-making, there can be no health equity.

Health literacy is defined as the degree to which individuals can find, understand, and use information and services to make informed health decisions. But here’s the question we rarely ask: what happens when the information itself is designed in ways that make it impossible for entire populations to find it in the first place?

That’s not a literacy problem. That’s an access problem. And it’s a problem we created.

Understanding Ableism and Its Role in Public Health

Before we talk about accessibility, we have to talk about ableism.

Ableism is a system of discrimination and exclusion that devalues people with disabilities by assuming that non-disabled ways of moving, seeing, hearing, and thinking are the norm. It’s the idea that disability is something to be fixed, pitied, or overcome instead of a natural part of human diversity.

In public health, ableism manifests when we design materials that can’t be read by screen readers, when we post videos without captions or transcripts, when we rely on infographics that aren’t described, or when we teach health literacy without ever mentioning accessibility.

Ableism isn’t always intentional, but it is always harmful. It creates inequity through omission. It tells disabled people that their access is secondary to everyone else’s convenience. And it undermines everything our field claims to stand for.

If we truly believe in cultural humility, equity, and justice, then we must also believe in confronting ableism wherever it exists, including in ourselves and in our institutions.

The National Federation of the Blind and the Roots of Dignity

The National Federation of the Blind (NFB) is the oldest and largest civil rights organization led by blind people in the United States. For more than eighty years, the NFB has fought to dismantle ableism and the structural barriers that prevent blind people from living full, independent, and successful lives.

The NFB is not a charity or service agency. It is a movement, a community of blind people working together to change what it means to be blind in this society. The organization’s philosophy is grounded in the social model of disability, which teaches that disability is not caused by our bodies but by inaccessible environments, systems, and attitudes.

This model changed my life.

I am proud to be a graduate of the Colorado Center for the Blind, one of the NFB’s national training centers. The Colorado Center offers intensive training in the alternative techniques of blindness such as Braille literacy, cane travel, technology, and home management, but more importantly, it teaches confidence and self-advocacy. It challenges the stereotypes and low expectations that ableism has placed on us and replaces them with competence, community, and pride.

This is health literacy at its most human and most practical. The National Federation of the Blind recognizes that the medical model has its place in treating the health of the eye and in advancing care that can preserve or protect vision. But it also teaches that health literacy cannot stop there. Understanding how systems distribute power, define ability, and shape access is equally essential. Learning to navigate, advocate, and lead as blind people is both personal liberation and public health in action, a living example of informed choice, collective care, and equity made real.

Today, I serve on the state board of the National Federation of the Blind of California, my local San Francisco chapter, and cochair our local chapter’s Outreach and Education Committee. This piece is written as part of those collective efforts to mark both Blind Equality Achievement Month and Health Literacy Month, two observances that share a common goal: access, understanding, and equity.

The NFB taught me that equality and achievement are not about overcoming blindness; they are about removing barriers. They taught me that I am not broken; the systems around me are. That lesson is one public health urgently needs to learn.

My Journey Through Blindness and Public Health

When I entered the public health field, I had just learned that I was blind with a condition called retinitis pigmentosa, a rare genetic condition that causes gradual loss of peripheral vision and eventual loss of central vision.

I earned degrees in Public Health and Human Sexuality, a sociology-based discipline, but I have no memory of anyone in those programs mentioning image descriptions, alt text, or audio descriptions. Accessibility wasn’t just missing from the materials; it was missing from the conversation entirely.

At the time, I still had some usable vision. I could strain to read a chart or enlarge a graph and thought that was enough. I didn’t yet understand what accessibility really meant or how deeply ableism was embedded in our field.

Now, twenty-one years into my blindness journey, I have only a small amount of residual sight. I rely on image descriptions every single day. They help me interpret what I’m seeing, confirm what I’m perceiving, and access the details my remaining vision can’t capture. Image descriptions, alt text, and audio descriptions are not “extra features.” They are bridges to participation, understanding, and dignity.

As I lost more vision, I also gained perspective. I found community. I learned that accessibility is not an accommodation; it is a matter of health equity. It is the foundation of inclusion in every aspect of our field.

Understanding the Tools of Access

Let me define the tools that make information accessible, because understanding these is fundamental to public health practice.

Screen readers are software programs that blind people use to access digital content. They read aloud the text on a screen, including alt text for images. Common screen readers include JAWS, NVDA, and VoiceOver (Apple’s built-in screen reader).

Braille displays are refreshable electronic devices that translate on-screen text into Braille, essential for people who are deafblind and cannot access information through audio alone.

Alt text (alternative text) is concise text embedded within an image’s code, allowing screen readers to convey the essential meaning of a visual.

Image descriptions are longer explanations of complex images like charts, graphs, infographics, or maps. They provide the relationships, context, and data that alt text alone cannot convey.

Audio descriptions are narrated explanations of visual elements in videos, describing what is happening on screen for blind or low vision viewers.

Captions provide text versions of spoken dialogue and important sounds in videos, essential for people who are deaf or hard of hearing.

Transcripts provide complete text versions of audio and video content, essential for people who are deaf, deafblind, or have auditory processing differences. They also help people with cognitive disabilities, non-native speakers, and anyone who needs to reference content in text form.

All of these accommodations are essential. None should be optional in public health communication.

When Crisis Information Isn’t Accessible

When public health information is designed for sighted people only, blind and deafblind communities are forced to build our own systems of access. We crowdsource updates, describe what others can see, and piece together fragments of information that should have been available to everyone from the start. This is what resilience looks like when accessibility fails.

In March 2020, just days after the first stay-at-home orders were announced, members of the blind community in the Bay Area began organizing daily support calls. Around March 17 or 18, we gathered to make sense of what was happening, sorting through an overwhelming mix of information, misinformation, and memes—all of it largely inaccessible and all of it requiring a great deal of health literacy to decipher. What began as a collective effort to understand the pandemic soon became an act of public health in itself. We were reading, interpreting, and translating the inaccessible materials that government agencies and media outlets were releasing without thought for nonvisual access.

As someone with a Master of Public Health and a Master of Arts in Human Sexuality, a sociology-based degree, I was witnessing in real time both the gaps in our public health systems and the extraordinary community response that filled them. The calls were exclusively blind-led and blind-run. Each one became a space of collective care and shared problem-solving: people reading aloud local health orders, explaining visual signage like six-foot distancing markers and floor stickers, and helping each other navigate grocery delivery, testing sites, and shifting safety protocols.

As the months went on, these calls evolved. Once the immediate shock of the pandemic settled, they naturally grew into something broader, rooted in community, connection, and joy. We began hosting more informal calls, talking about cooking, travel, technology, and advocacy. Many lasted six, seven, sometimes even eight hours. The first hour might focus on practical updates, but what followed was deep conversation about blindness, identity, and philosophy. Together, we unpacked harmful narratives and discovered the social model of disability in practice. It was through those calls that I decided to attend the Colorado Center for the Blind, a decision that changed my life.

Then, by the summer of 2020, California began to burn. The wildfires layered one crisis atop another, and our calls once again shifted back into emergency mode. The network we had built to survive the pandemic became the infrastructure that helped us survive the fires. Evacuation maps, fire perimeters, and safety alerts were shared across county websites and social media, but all were visual and nearly all were inaccessible. Blind people in evacuation zones, myself included, scrambled to access life-saving information. Some relied on family or friends to interpret maps; others used visual interpreter services or called 211, a free, confidential helpline operated by the United Way that connects callers 24/7 to local community resources for essential needs like food, housing, healthcare, mental health support, and disaster relief.

It was exhausting. The constant work of finding, translating, and validating inaccessible information took a toll on our mental health as individuals and as a community. But it was also revealing. As a sociologist, I could see clearly that ableism itself operates as a social determinant of health. It shapes who gets timely information, who experiences prolonged uncertainty, and who shoulders the cognitive and emotional burden of navigating systems that were never designed for us.

Those months taught us that health literacy is not just about individual capacity; it is about whether the systems we rely on make information accessible in the first place. The blind community modeled health literacy in action, even as we were denied access to the very materials that public health claimed were inclusive.

Public health cannot claim health literacy without accessibility. Accessibility is not the afterthought of health literacy; it is its foundation.

When Public Health Professionals Cannot Access Public Health

Years later, I encountered exclusion of a different kind.

A public health organization hosted an infographics competition, an event meant to celebrate creativity and data storytelling in our field. I was eager to engage, to learn from my peers’ work, to see the innovative ways they visualized data.

As I opened the gallery, my screen reader began to speak:
“Image.”
Next.
“Image.”
Next.
“Image.”
Again.
“Image.”

Over two hundred submissions. Not one included alt text or an image description.

Every “Image” was a reminder that someone had designed something to communicate important public health information and had never imagined that a blind colleague might want, or need, to engage with it.

This was a celebration of communication that excluded communicators. A showcase of public health work that was inaccessible to public health professionals.

We understand social determinants. We talk about structural inequities. But we forget to apply those same principles to disability. We create campaigns about inclusion that are inaccessible to the very people they are meant to reach.

We should never graduate students who can analyze data but cannot describe it accessibly.
We should never produce “health literacy” professionals who exclude entire populations through omission.
We should never allow our field to call something “inclusive” when it leaves disabled people behind.

Accessibility is not a favor. It is not charity. It is a professional standard. It is a public health competency.

During Health Literacy Month, if we are not making our materials accessible to all, we are failing as a field.

Cultural Humility and Continuous Learning

Like so many of us, I am still learning. Cultural humility is a lifelong practice; it means recognizing that we will never arrive at complete understanding, but that we have a responsibility to keep showing up, listening, and growing.

While this post focuses significantly on the needs of blind and low vision individuals, accessibility must go far beyond vision. Our work must reach people who are deaf, deafblind, hard of hearing, neurodivergent, or who have mobility, cognitive, or communication disabilities.

Accessibility is not a checklist. It is a mindset, a commitment to ensure that every person can engage with and act on the information we share.

We can only create equitable systems when accessibility and cultural humility are embedded in everything we do, from our classrooms to our crisis communications.

Achieving Equality Through Access

Blind Equality Achievement Month reminds us that blind and deafblind people can achieve anything when barriers are removed, not despite blindness or deafblindness, but because of the access and community that allow us to thrive.

The National Federation of the Blind’s philosophy, that blindness is not the problem, inaccessibility is, belongs at the heart of public health. This philosophy is a form of health literacy in action. It empowers individuals to understand the systems around them, navigate them with skill, and advocate for themselves and others.

Equality and achievement are not abstract ideals. They are daily practices. They are what happens when we make sure everyone can access the information they need to live, learn, and lead.
We use the language of equity often in public health, but equity only exists when access does. Health literacy is how we turn our values into action.
If we truly believe in health equity, we must make accessibility a public health priority.

A Call to the Field I Love

To my colleagues in public health, from practitioners and professors to department leaders, communications directors, news editors, and accrediting bodies, this message is for you.

Let’s make Health Literacy Month 2025 the year we mean it.

Describe your images. Caption your videos. Transcribe your podcasts. Make accessibility a habit, a policy, and a culture.

Because when the next emergency strikes, when California burns again, or another public health crisis unfolds, blind, deafblind, and disabled people deserve access to the same information, at the same time, with the same ability to act.

That is not a special accommodation. That is equity. That is health literacy. That is public health.

Our profession needs blind epidemiologists, deafblind educators, deaf health communicators, wheelchair-using program directors, neurodivergent researchers, all of us. But we can only contribute if we are invited in through access.

I love this field. I believe in its mission. And I know you do too.

Let’s rebuild it together, through accessibility, humility, and action.

This October, commit to alt text, image descriptions, captions, and transcripts. It is not an add-on. It is health literacy. It is equity. It is public health.

To learn more about my work and the advocacy I do to advance accessibility and disability inclusion in public health, please visit my website at www.lauramillar.com or follow me on my new Patreon.

Author’s Note

This post was written and compiled with the support of artificial intelligence. While AI assisted with organization, formatting, and editing, the heart of this piece comes from a much deeper collective source. These words are my own, but the wisdom within them is shared, drawn from generations of disabled advocates, organizers, and disability justice leaders whose work and lived experience have shaped the language of access, equity, and liberation. They have been an integral part of my personal and professional journey. I write from their shoulders, carrying forward what they have taught us: that access is love, and that justice begins with the courage to listen, learn, and act.

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Beyond the Sensory Deficit: Why Blindness Belongs in the Neurodivergent Spectrum

By Laura Millar, MPH, MA, MCHES

Listen to the full Deep Dive podcast episode here: Beyond the Sensory Deficit: Why Blindness Belongs in the Neurodivergent Spectrum

About This Episode

In this Deep Dive interview, AI-generated hosts Alex and Storm explore a paradigm-shifting question: Is blindness a form of neurodivergence?

This interview was compiled and generated by NotebookLM based on my writings, research, and lived experience as a public health professional, sociologist, and neurodivergent blind woman. I started exploring these topics on both personal and professional levels because the existing frameworks simply weren’t capturing the full neurological reality of blindness.

Through compelling neuroscience, personal narrative, and systemic critique, this interview makes the case that blindness isn’t just a sensory impairment—it’s a profound neurological difference that deserves recognition within the neurodivergent spectrum.

Important Disclaimer: I am not a mental health professional. I was drawn to exploring these topics after the diagnostic system failed me in my own journey seeking answers. When I joined a Facebook group called “Lost Focus,” made up of blind neurodivergent individuals, I realized how remarkably similar our stories were—and how little information exists about the connection between blindness and neurodivergence. While mental health is not my professional field, much of this writing draws from my experience and training as a public health professional and sociologist. I look forward to learning more as I open this dialogue and welcome engagement, feedback, and collaboration from researchers, clinicians, and community members as we explore these ideas together.

I’d love to hear from you. Whether you’re part of the blind community, identify as neurodivergent, work in disability advocacy, or are simply curious about these ideas—please reach out. Your perspectives, questions, and experiences matter to this conversation.

Key Topics Explored

  • Neuroplasticity and Brain Rewiring: How blindness triggers cross-modal recruitment in the visual cortex
  • Executive Function Changes: The cognitive load of processing a non-visual world
  • Diagnostic Barriers: Why current assessment tools fail blind individuals seeking neurodivergent diagnoses
  • The Medical vs. Social Model: How both frameworks fall short in recognizing neurological identity
  • Advocacy and Accommodation: What changes when we reframe blindness as neurodivergence
  • Community and Belonging: Finding identity at the intersection of blindness and neurodiversity

Why This Matters

This conversation isn’t just theoretical—it has real implications for:

  • Accommodations in schools and workplaces that address cognitive differences, not just access barriers
  • Mental health support that validates the neurodivergent experience of blind individuals
  • Community solidarity between blind and neurodivergent advocacy movements
  • Systemic equity that recognizes neurological diversity as human diversity

Disclaimer

For those unfamiliar, Notebook LM is an AI-powered tool developed by Google that helps users organize, summarize, and generate content from their notes and research materials. It can create audio summaries, study guides, and more, making it a powerful tool for learning and sharing information. As someone still new to using this type of technology, I’m still learning how to fully edit and refine the outputs. While this episode may contain some imperfections, I believe it includes valuable information worth sharing. Thank you for your understanding as I continue to explore and improve with this tool!

Connect & Support

If this conversation resonated with you and you’d like to support more content that challenges conventional thinking about disability, neurodiversity, and advocacy:

💜 Support on Patreon: patreon.com/lauramillar – Join this growing community and get exclusive content, early access to episodes, and behind-the-scenes discussions. Your support helps fund research, accessibility features, and ongoing advocacy work.

Visit my website: www.lauramillar.com – Learn more about my coaching, consultancy, and research services focused on sexual health, disability justice, and building inclusive environments. Reach out to collaborate or explore how we can work together.

Every share, comment, and conversation helps amplify these conversations. Thank you for being part of this movement toward true cognitive equity.

Episode Sources

American Psychiatric Association. (2013). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (5th ed.). https://doi.org/10.1176/appi.books.9780890425596

Armstrong, T. (2010). Neurodiversity: Discovering the extraordinary gifts of autism, ADHD, dyslexia, and other brain differences. Da Capo Lifelong Books.

Baron-Cohen, S. (2008). Autism and Asperger syndrome. Oxford University Press.

Conversation with Bing. (2023, December 16). [Personal communication].

Hull, L., Petrides, K. V., Allison, C., Smith, P., Baron-Cohen, S., Lai, M. C., & Mandy, W. (2017). “The Female Autism Phenotype and Camouflaging: A Narrative Review.” Review Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 4(4), 306-317.

Merabet, L. B., & Pascual-Leone, A. (2010). Neural reorganization following sensory loss: The opportunity of change. Nature Reviews Neuroscience, 11(1), 44-52.

Oliver, M. (1990). The politics of disablement. Macmillan.

Shakespeare, T. (2014). Disability rights and wrongs revisited (2nd ed.). Routledge.

Singer, J. (1998). Odd people in: The birth of community amongst people on the autistic spectrum. [Honors thesis, University of Technology Sydney].

Verywell Mind. (n.d.). Neurodiversity and what it means to be neurodiverse. https://www.verywellmind.com/what-is-neurodiversity-5193463

Walker, N. (2012). Throw away the master’s tools: Liberating ourselves from the pathology paradigm. Neurocosmopolitanism. https://neurocosmopolitanism.com/throw-away-the-masters-tools-liberating-ourselves-from-the-pathology-paradigm/

Wong, M., Gnanakumaran, V., & Goldreich, D. (2011). Tactile spatial acuity enhancement in blindness: Evidence for experience-dependent mechanisms. Journal of Neuroscience, 31(19), 7028-7037.

Big Think. (n.d.). Neurodiversity: How unusual minds bring hidden strengths. https://bigthink.com/plus/neurodiversity-how-unusual-minds-bring-hidden-strengths/

Cleveland Clinic. (n.d.). Neurodivergent: What it is, symptoms & types. https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/symptoms/23154-neurodivergent

Harvard Health Publishing. (n.d.). What is neurodiversity? https://www.health.harvard.edu/blog/what-is-neurodiversity-202111232645

Open University. (n.d.). Neurodiversity: What is it and what does it look like across races? https://www.open.edu/openlearn/health-sports-psychology/mental-health/neurodiversity-what-it-and-what-does-it-look-across-races

Deep Dive Podcast Transcript

Alex: Welcome back to the Deep Dive. Today, we are taking on a really fascinating, pretty complex topic. It’s driven by a very profound personal inquiry, actually. And we’re pushing it straight into the realm of, well, neurological science and advocacy. We’re diving into a discussion that really challenges the very foundation of how we categorize sensory difference versus cognitive identity.

Storm: Yeah, our focus today is that powerful interception of blindness and neurodiversity, and like you said, this isn’t theoretical. We’ve actually been asked to explore the journey of a public health professional, Laura Millar.

Alex: Right. She identifies as blind and also as neurodivergent, and she finds this classification isn’t just, you know, helpful for her personally. She sees it as absolutely essential for advocating effectively, both for herself and for her community. So our mission for you, the listener, is really to move beyond maybe the superficial definitions we usually hear.

Storm: Yeah. We want to understand why blindness remains almost universally treated as, well, a purely sensory deficit.

Alex: Right. This is what the eyes.

Storm: Exactly. When the overwhelming lived experience, and frankly, the scientific evidence, too, suggests these profound, documented neurological and cognitive differences… we really need to grasp why shifting this framework is so important.

Alex: Yeah, moving from sensory deficit to neurodivergence.

Storm: Precisely. Why that shift might be the critical next step for getting better accommodation, deeper recognition, and ultimately achieving true systemic equity. Okay, so, maybe let’s start by setting the stage a bit. We should probably establish your context. Neurodiversity, um, at its simplest, it’s the idea that differences and how our brains are wired are actually a natural and valuable part of human variation. Like biodiversity, but for brains.

Alex: Exactly. That’s a great way to put it. Now, while technically the term applies to everyone, because all our brains are different in advocacy circles, and definitely in medical settings, it’s kind of come to denote specific conditions. Things like autism spectrum disorder, ADHD.

Storm: Right. ASD, ADHD, dyslexia, other conditions that involve, you know, significant differences in how people process information, manage attention, or handle executive functions. That’s the common usage we see. Okay, and right there is where the conflict that really sparked this whole inquiry comes in. Because when our contributor, Laura, posed a simple, direct question, just an honest intellectual query to an AI. About whether blind people are neurodiverse.

Alex: Yeah, exactly. The answer she got back was, well, it was a perfect illustration of how rigid the current system’s thinking is.

Storm: It really was. The AI I think it was being in this case. It just delivered the swift, very categorical rejection. And it was based purely on current medical definitions.

Alex: What’s did it actually say?

Storm: It essentially said, “Nope, blindness is strictly a sensory impairment. It’s not considered a neurodevelopmental condition. Full stop.

Alex: Pretty much. And the logical conclusion presented was, therefore, blind people are not neurodiverse by definition, unless, and this was the only caveat, unless they happen to have a co occurring condition, like maybe diagnosed ASD or ADHD. So, you can be blind in neurodiverse, but blindness itself isn’t the source of that neurodiversity, according to the AI.

Storm: Exactly. The only tiny nod toward any complexity was this brief mention that, well, some blind individuals might identify as divergent, because they’re non visual way of processing fundamentally changes their cognitive experience. But it framed it as identity, not inherent neurology.

Alex: Wow, so that AI response, which is basically just reflecting the current institutional consensus, right? It forces the entire blind experience into this really narrow, purely sensory, non neurological box.

Storm: It does. But the personal journey that Laura Millar shared, the one that prompted this. She lives with retinitis pigmentosa, right? Experienced a gradual decline over something like 20 years. Her story shows exactly why that definition just doesn’t cut it. It feels completely insufficient.

Alex: Absolutely. The acquired nature of her blindness is actually key here for illustrating that cognitive shift she experienced. The sources detail how she used to rely heavily on being a highly visual learner.

Storm: Okay, so what did that look like for her before the vision loss really progressed?

Alex: Well, her memory retention, her organization, it was all deeply integrated with visual cues, things like, um, color coding for task priority, using the spatial layout of Doodles on a page to map out ideas.

Storm: Oh, interesting, like mind mapping, but visually ingrained.

Alex: Exactly. And even using different highlighter colors as memory anchors for specific information. Her whole system was built around sight.

Storm: So she was literally using the visual world as the framework for her internal thinking or cognition.

Alex: Precisely. And so, as that visual channel gradually closed off, it wasn’t just that she couldn’t see the color coded calendar anymore, which she described was losing the cognitive scaffolding that that visual structure provided her.

Storm: Oh, okay, so the tool was gone, but also the mental process tied to that tool.

Alex: Right. She essentially had to replace decades of these deeply ingrained visual processing habits with brand new methods. Non visual ones, auditory strategies, tactile organization systems. It forced this massive neurological reevaluation of how she managed tasks, information, everything.

Storm: And what’s really fascinating here is how the sources connect this struggle, this adaptation directly to executive functioning.

Alex: Yes. The observation was that what might have started as maybe minor manageable neurodiverse traits for her, perhaps light struggles with focus or task initiation, things many people experience.

Storm: Mm hmm.

Alex: Those traits transformed into a much more pronounced, much more challenging experience as her visual input diminished, as that cognitive support system disappeared.

Storm: And that specific observation is incredibly telling, scientifically speaking. Executive functions things like our working memory, our ability to think flexibly, inhibitory control, planning, they rely very heavily on efficient sensory processing.

Alex: Okay, how so?

Storm: Well, think about it. When you remove or significantly degrade the primary sense, which for most humans, the brain has to divert massive cognitive resources, just to process and interpret the incoming non visual data. Making sense of the world through sound and touch alone is complex work.

Alex: Right. It’s constant translation process.

Storm: It is. And this increased cognitive load, just the effort of navigating and understanding the world non visually, directly impacts the mental resources available for those higher level executive tasks.

Alex: So let’s bandwidth left for organizing planning, staying focused.

Storm: Exactly. And that can lead to observable behavioral and processing differences that, frankly, mirror many recognized forms of neurodivergence, like ADHD or certain aspects of ASD, the outcome looks similar because the underlying cognitive resources are similarly strained or deployed differently.

Alex: Okay, so if the loss of a major sensory channel fundamentally changes executive function, focus, memory, strategies, organizational approaches… You know, the very characteristics we often use to define neurodiversity.

Storm: Hmm.

Alex: How can we possibly keep maintaining this fiction that blindness is only a sensory issue?

Storm: It just doesn’t track. This documented shift in cognitive experience seems like powerful evidence itself.

Alex: It absolutely does. And it leads us directly to the core scientific counter argument against that narrow definition.

Storm: Yeah, let’s really challenge that status quo… Because the argument being made here in the one Laura Millar is advancing isn’t just a hopeful theory or a feeling. It feels like it’s grounded, in fact, backed by decades of neuroscience.

Alex: It is. Blindness, fundamentally, structurally rewires the brain, that’s documented. So why are we as a community or as individuals exhausting ourselves, trying to maybe get external labels for focus issues or attention differences, or sensory processing sensitivity? And the underlying condition itself.

Storm: Right.

Alex: When blindness itself is already the definition of a neurologically distinct experience.

Storm: Yeah. It seems like we’re missing the foundational point. We have to anchor this claim firmly in neuroplasticity. This isn’t controversial science. It’s the brain’s remarkable, well documented ability to reorganize itself. It forms new neural connections throughout life in response to experience, injury, or sensory changes. And blindness is a major trigger for that reorganization.

Alex: One of the most profound triggers studied. Blindness doesn’t just result in a lack of visual input reaching the brain. It triggers aggressive, surprisingly rapid neuroplastic changes that actually repurpose vast areas of this cerebral cortex.

Storm: Repurpose them?

Alex: Yes. This isn’t just theory. It’s the biological proof that the blind brain is structurally and functionally. A neurologically distinct brain compared to a typically sighted one.

Storm: Okay, this is where the detail really matters, I think. When we talk about specific neurological adaptation, we’re not talking small tweaks, we’re talking about significant brain real estate getting completely rezoned, right?

Alex: We are talking very specifically about the occipital lobe. That’s the visual cortex located right at the very back of your skull. In a sighted person, that area is the command center for processing everything you see. If it gets significantly damaged, you lose vision. It’s the seeing part of the brain.

Storm: Correct. But in individuals who are blind, especially those with early onset or congenital blindness, that huge chunk of brain doesn’t just go dark or become dormant because there’s no light coming in. It starts what neuroscientist call cross modal recruitment.

Alex: Cross modal recruitment? Okay, what does that look like in practice? How does that rezoning actually work?

Storm: Well, numerous studies using advanced brain imaging, like fMRI and EEG technology, they consistently show the same thing, that visual cortex starts activating in response to non visual stimuli.

Alex: Like sound or touch.

Storm: Exactly. That’s cross modal plasticity in action. So, for instance, when a blind individual reads Braille, fMRI scans shows strong activation and parts of their visual cortex.

Alex: Wait, the part designed for seeing complex shapes and patterns is now processing tiny raised dots felt by the fingertips.

Storm: Precisely. The brain regions typically associated with perceiving visual form and texture, are now intricately involved in processing that complex tactile information, and it’s not just touch. When blind individuals engage in complex auditory tasks like trying to pinpoint where a sound is coming from in space, or processing complex language, especially in noisy environments areas within occipital cortex, often light up on the scans.

Alex: Okay, that’s genuinely mind blowing. The part of the brain literally designed evolutionarily speaking, to see, is now actively helping the person hear better and feel with more discrimination. That sounds like the absolute definition of a fundamentally restructured brain.

Storm: It absolutely is. This process is concrete evidence that the brain innovates. It adapts, it reconfigures itself in a way that fundamentally alters its structure and its function compared to a sighted neurotypical brain. This rerouting, this permanent neurological divergence from the expected structure. That is the essence of neurodivergence. It directly refutes the idea that there’s only one single, normal, or typical brain pathway.

Alex: And thinking about it, this naturally leads to those unique, cognitive differences, sometimes even perceived strengths. They’re often observed within the blind community. It suggests it’s not just about compensating for what’s missing.

Storm: Right.

Alex: It’s about the brain actually maximizing the new configuration that’s developed.

Storm: That’s a much better way to frame it than just compensation. Research really does indicate that this adaptive rewiring often leads to unique cognitive strengths, not just coping mechanisms. Blind individuals, for example, frequently demonstrates superior auditory discrimination.

Alex: What does that mean in real terms?

Storm: It means they can often differentiate sounds more accurately, locate objects just by using echo or very slight acoustic cues, think echolocation and process speech much efficiently, especially when there’s background noise.

Alex: Which makes sense that parts of the visual cortex are potentially lending processing power to the auditory system.

Storm: It does, and similarly, they often exhibit higher tactile acuity, more sensitive touch, and can achieve much faster tactile reading speeds, like with Braille, than you might expect just from practice alone. There seems to be a neurological enhancement at play.

Alex: So that really sounds like a cognitive advantage, or at least a significant cognitive difference.

Storm: Mm hmm.

Alex: That resulted directly from a different way processing the world.

Storm: Mm hmm.

Alex: It completely moves the discussion away from just trying to fix a deficit.

Storm: Mm hmm.

Alex: And towards recognizing a uniquely adaptive, potentially optimized system.

Storm: Yes. And when we apply that neurodiversity paradigm here, we see these abilities not as some kind of miraculous correction for a deficit, but as a clear demonstration of adaptive rewiring, that results in unique strengths. It perfectly mirrors how the broader neurodiversity movements advocate for conditions like dyslexia or ADHD.

Alex: Well, those movements often highlight the associated strengths, like potentially enhanced pattern recognition skills in dyslexia, or the ability for intense hyperfocus in ADHD. It’s about recognizing that cognitive differences aren’t necessarily defects. They represent different profiles of cognitive efficiencies and challenges. It validates the whole idea.

Storm: And the lived experience, as Laura Millar and others describe it, seems to confirm this reframing completely. The sources mentioned conversation she’s had with blind mental health professionals, educators.

Alex: Yes.

Storm: And they all validate this reality. The sheer cognitive effort involved in just organizing a non visual world day to day, the heightened risk of sensory overload, especially in complex or loud auditory environment.

Alex: It was a huge issue.

Storm: Right, and the different kinds of strategies required for managing focus and attention when you don’t have visual anchors, it all points to a different cognitive landscape.

Alex: Yeah, despite all this neurological proof, despite this widely shared cognitive reality among blind people, the systemic framing just remains stubbornly stagnant. Blindness is still largely treated institutionally, as a purely sensory difference, or worse, as just a clinical medical problem that needs to be fixed or cured. And that rigid definition, it actively erases or ignores all these documented, inherent, cognitive, and neurological adaptations we’ve discussed. The very adaptations that are arguably the undeniable hallmarks of neurodivergence.

Storm: It’s a fundamental disconnect.

Alex: It really is. It’s clear that our current dominant frameworks for thinking about disability, even the well intentioned ones, are just insufficient. They don’t capture this neurological reality. So let’s break down that systemic disconnect. Why does this exclusion exist? What models are holding us back?

Storm: Yeah, we really need to critique the existing models of disability, because they’re the ones perpetuating this narrow view, the oldest, and probably still the most pervasive, is the medical model.

Alex: Okay, the medical model. That’s the one that essentially views the individual’s impairment as the core problem.

Storm: Yeah, yeah, correct. It treats blindness fundamentally as a pathology. A broken sensory apparatus. Something wrong with the eyes or the optic nerve that needs repair or a cure, or maybe technological replacement designed to mimic the lost sense as closely as possible.

Alex: So the focus is entirely on fixing the biological defect.

Storm: Entirely. Its whole focus is on what is lost, the deficit compared to a sighted norm, and crucially, for our discussion, it completely ignores the cognitive revolution that’s happening inside the brain as a result of that sensory loss. It essentially says, “fix the eyes or simulate sight, but it never asks the question, “How has the brain adapted to function brilliantly in a non visual reality?

Alex: So it fails to recognize the inherent neurological identity that’s forged by blindness itself.

Storm: Exactly. It sees only the sensory lack, not the cognitive transformation.

Alex: Okay, so then we have the social model of disability. Now, that one attempts to shift the focus, shift the blame, really, from the individual to the environment, which sounds much more empowering, but you’re arguing it still falls short in this specific context.

Storm: The social model has been absolutely vital, let’s be clear. It was revolutionary, because it correctly identified societal barriers, things like inaccessible websites, buildings without ramps, lack of audible signage, discriminatory attitudes as the primary cause of disability, rather than the impairment itself.

Alex: Which is crucial for advocacy, obviously.

Storm: Absolutely. But it’s limitations, specifically when we’re talking about the neurodivergence of blindness is its strong external focus. While demanding ramps and screen readers is essential for access, the social model often neglects the inherent internal cognitive complexity of living without sight.

Alex: How so?

Storm: It tends to see blindness primarily as a barrier to external access getting information. Moving around not necessarily as a profound difference in internal processing, it doesn’t fully acknowledge that even if you created a perfectly accessible utopia tomorrow, a blind person’s brain would still process information, manage attention, and experience the sensory world neurodivergently. It often overlooks that neurological identity piece.

Alex: Okay, so we end up with this kind of false economy.

Storm: Hmm.

Alex: Society might grudgingly agree to build a ramp or provide a screen reader, addressing the access issue.

Storm: Right.

Alex: But it remains largely unwilling to accept that the person using that ramp or a screen reader is likely experiencing a foundational difference in their neurology, a difference that requires more than just physical or technical access tools.

Storm: That is the key disconnect right there. We have largely accepted, particularly thanks to the tireless advocacy work within the Autism community, that significant differences in sensory processing a unique executive function profiles necessitate a neurodivergent label and corresponding supports.

Alex: Right. Things like needing quiet spaces, different communication styles, structured routines.

Storm: Exactly. And those very same traits, heightened sensory sensitivity, especially auditory, challenges with executive function and navigating a world not built for non visual processing are demonstrably and acutely relevant to blind individuals. Yet we resist applying the same neurodivergent framework, the underlying cause of that cognitive difference, which is blindness itself.

Alex: And this systemic resistance, this refusal to see blindness through neurodivergent lens leads to immense frustration for people seeking validation, doesn’t it? The sources highlight that many blind individuals feel these distinct cognitive differences very strongly.

Storm: Mm hmm.

Alex: And they end up resorting to questioning themselves, “Wait, do I have undiagnosed ASD? Could I have ADHD?” They start seeking these other external labels, just a validation for an experience that feels deeply inherent to their blindness.

Storm: They do. And then they often run headfirst into massive systemic barriers when they try to pursue those diagnoses.

Alex: It sounds like a catch 22.

Storm: It really is. Because those diagnostic processes themselves, the tools we used to assess for conditions like ASD or ADHD, are often fundamentally rooted in ableist visual centric assumptions. They inherently disadvantage or misclassified blind individuals from the outset.

Alex: Can you give us some more concrete examples? How do these diagnostic tools actually show that visual bias in practice?

Storm: Sure. Take, for instance, many common assessments used for diagnosing autism spectrum disorder. They often rely very heavily on evaluating specifically visual behaviors.

Alex: Like eye contact?

Storm: Exactly. Measuring the frequency and duration of eye contact, assessing joint attention by seeing if someone follows a pointed finger or gaze, evaluating subtle facial expressions during social interaction. A blind child or adult simply cannot meet these criteria in the expected visual way.

Alex: So they’re adaptive behaviors get misinterpreted?

Storm: Precisely. Behaviors that are necessary adaptations for non visual interaction, like maybe turning their head to focus precisely on an auditory source instead of making eye contact, or using highly specific, maybe repetitive tactile exploration to gather information about an object or person. These can be easily misinterpreted by a diagnostician unfamiliar with blindness.

Alex: So a necessary adaptation, let’s say, using a repetitive hand movement, like tactile skimming, for self regulation or focus in a non visual environment that gets read by the clinician as a symptom of a separate condition like autism, rather than being understood as an integrated, necessary cognitive strategy developed precisely because of their neurological reality as a blind person.

Storm: That’s exactly the danger. Or consider ADHD assessments. They often use visually presented materials for testing working memory or processing speed. They might involve visual organizational tasks, like sorting cards or arranging pictures, or they ask questions about organizational methods that implicitly rely on visual tools, like using planners, calendars, or color coded checklists. Tools that might be completely irrelevant or inaccessible.

Alex: Right.

Storm: These assessment tools often fail to recognize or inquire about how a non visual brain might organize time, space, and attention, using auditory cues, tactile systems, or spatial memory. The system is looking for specific visual evidence of function or dysfunction that simply isn’t there. And when it observes the non visual adaptations, the person is using, which are actually cognitive innovations, it flags them as disorganized or pathological, because they don’t fit the visual norm.

Alex: Well, it effectively leaves blind individuals trapped in this diagnostic limbo. They know their internal cognitive experience aligns deeply with the broader, neurodivergent spectrum. The sensory sensitivity is the executive function challenges, the different ways of focusing, but the very systems built to validate that kind of experience, are simply not designed to observe, understand, or fairly assess nonvisual neurology.

Storm: Exactly. They’re assessed against criteria they can’t meet and their actual adaptations are missed or pathologized.

Alex: Which is precisely why this reframing conversation is so critical. It basically sidesteps the exhausting, often futile need to acquire those external labels through biased systems, and instead, assert the inherent neurological truth of the situation.

Storm: Yes. The time for fighting for a secondary label, just to get the understanding and accommodations that should come with blindness itself feels like it’s over. The way forward, as Laura Millar suggests, really demands that we start with the foundational belief. Blindness belongs within the neurodivergent spectrum, period.

Alex: And accepting that premise is a total game changer for advocacy, isn’t it?

Storm: It absolutely is. It allows the blind community to tap into and align with the really powerful advocacy infrastructure and language already built by other neurodivergent movements.

Alex: What can we specifically learn, or maybe borrow and leverage from those communities?

Storm: Well, a huge area is leveraging their extensive work around understanding and advocating for diverse sensory processing profiles, and also, the strategies developed for executive function coaching and support tailored to nontypical brains. Neurodivergent advocacy, particularly from the autistic community, has been incredibly successful in demanding systemic adaptation, changing the environment, rather than forcing individual simulation or masking.

Alex: So applying that to blindness? What does that look like?

Storm: For the blind community, it means moving beyond just demanding basic access, like, say, a Braille sign on a door to demanding true neurological accommodation. For instance, recognizing that navigating solely by sound requires immense processing, and therefore demanding something like a sensory friendly, low noise workspace isn’t a preference, it’s a cognitive necessity.

Alex: Okay, so this shift fundamentally changes the nature of the accommodations we should be asking for. They stop being just simple access fixes, like large print or audio format.

Storm: Right.

Alex: And they become more complex, nuanced responses to inherent cognitive differences in processing attention and sensory experience.

Storm: Precisely. If blindness is widely recognized as neurodivergence, then the scope of accommodations naturally broadens to address those cognitive needs. For example, acknowledging the heightened cognitive load involved in non visual navigation means recognizing the genuine need for things like structured downtime during the workday, or maybe reduced complexity and concurrent tasks being assigned.

Alex: That makes sense. Less multitasking, more focused work.

Storm: Exactly. It means demanding sensory friendly environments becomes standard practice, not a special request. Think lower reverberation rooms in schools, readily available noise canceling headphones being an acceptable norm in open plan offices. Because when you rely primarily on auditory input, those noisy echo environments aren’t just annoying, they’re exponentially more cognitively taxing and can lead to burnout or shutdown.

Alex: And imagine the impact on things like individualized education programs, IEPs in schools, or even just standard workplace organizational protocols.

Storm: Huge potential impact. Instead of the IEP, just listing provided laptop with screen reader, it would need to acknowledge that a non visual learner might require explicit teaching in auditory spatial organizational strategies, or flexible deadlines because task initiation works differently, or benefit from specific training in non visual executive function techniques.

Alex: So it moves from providing a tool to supporting a different way of thinking and working.

Storm: Yes. The sources really emphasize that we must demand accommodations that reflect the innovative ways our brains actually process information, the ways they’ve adapted, not just accommodations that focus solely on the lack of visual input. It’s about honoring the neurological adaptations we’ve developed by requiring systems, educational, workplace, social, to adapt to them.

Alex: And beyond the practical policy and accommodations piece, there’s this really crucial element of identity and belonging that comes up. The feeling of alienation that Laura Millar touched upon, it sounds quite palpable in the sources.

Storm: It is. That experience of maybe feeling like an outsider in both the traditional blindness community, which sometimes focuses very heavily, maybe too narrowly on mobility, technology and basic access, and feeling like an outsider in the broader neurodivergent community, which often doesn’t readily recognize blindness as fitting under its umbrella, unless there’s that cooccurring diagnosis.

Alex: Yeah, that feeling of being on the edges of multiple communities is very common.

Storm: So, claiming blindness as neurodivergence seems to offer an immediate, really powerful sense of belonging.

Alex: Yeah. It provides a shared framework, a shared language for describing internal experience.

Storm: It absolutely does. It potentially liberates individuals from that exhausting, often invalidating quest to secure an external, possibly visually biased diagnostic label just to validate their own cognitive reality. It provides a banner, if you will, under which all the different complex ways, the blind brain organizes itself and experiences the world can be seen as part of a unified, legitimate neurological variation.

Alex: And this ties back so directly to core principles of disability justice, doesn’t it? Especially the principle of recognizing wholeness and intersectionality.

Storm: Beautifully. It acknowledges that a sensory condition like blindness isn’t separate from the resulting neurological changes. They are inherently intertwined. The entire experience is intersectional, sensory, and neurological. You can’t neatly pull them apart.

Alex: So the required shift in the conversation itself is changing how we talk about blindness?

Storm: Yeah.

Alex: That becomes maybe the most impactful advocacy move we can make right now.

Storm: I think so. We need to consciously stop operating from that deficit model, where the underlying question is always, okay, how do we compensate for what’s wrong with this person? How do we make them more like a sighted person?” And move decisively towards.

Alex: Towards the equity model, where the fundamental question becomes. How can society better support this person’s specific adapted neurology? How do we honor their unique cognitive landscape and ensure they have the resources environmental supports needed to thrive as they are?

Storm: And this reframing? It is just important to those individuals who strongly feel they fit existing neurodivergent labels like ADHD or autism. You’re arguing it’s necessary for the entire community.

Alex: Yes, because it recognizes that every individual whose brain has had to profoundly restructure itself due to the absence of sight, has undergone a significant neurological divergence. That divergence, regardless of whether it aligns neatly with other diagnostic categories, demands specific, cognitive equity, and understanding. And it naturally fosters solidarity with other neurodivergent groups who are fighting similar battles for recognition of neurological difference against a predominantly neurotypical world.

Storm: Exactly. It builds bridges based on shared experiences of cognitive difference and the need for societal adaptation.

Alex: Okay, so let’s try to synthesize this journey we’ve taken. We’ve covered a lot.

Storm: For personal experience, to neuroscience, to systemic critique.

Alex: We have. And I think the central takeaway, the core message remains both scientifically grounded and deeply focused on advocacy. Blindness is clear, documented evidence of profound neurological adaptation.

Storm: That’s neuroplasticity in action, resulting in a brain that is structurally and functionally distinct. It’s not just sensory loss. It’s neurological change.

Alex: Precisely. And therefore, it fundamentally deserves inclusion within the broader neurodivergent spectrum. This paradigm shift isn’t just semantics. It bridges the huge gaps left by the limitations of both the traditional medical model, and to some extent, the social model. It provides a pathway toward achieving true cognitive equity and a much deeper, more holistic understanding of the blind experience.

Storm: So for you listening, the hope is that you now have not just the validation of lived experience, but also the scientific language and the systemic critique necessary to advocate for needs that go far beyond just simple visual access. You have a stronger basis now to demand accommodations and understanding that address the underlying, necessary cognitive differences, the unique ways your brain might manage sensory processing, especially auditory, focus, memory retrieval, task initiation, and overall executive function.

Alex: And importantly, framing it this way makes it clear. This isn’t asking for special treatment or extra favors. It’s demanding that our systems educational workplace social be built, recognizing diverse innovative ways of being and processing information. It’s an equity demand.

Storm: Absolutely. And maybe here’s a provocative thought, something for you to take away and explore further, building on everything we’ve discussed. If hypothetically, blindness were universally acknowledged as a form of neurodivergence tomorrow. Just accepted fact. What is one specific nonvisual accommodation, something not related to print or physical spaces, directly related to managing focus, mitigating auditory processing or nonvisual task management? What’s one thing that would immediately move from being considered an extra resource, a special request? To being an immediate, recognized and utterly essential necessity. Something expected in every single workplace, every classroom, every public setting, just built into the foundation. What does that fundamental recognition look like, when it’s not just a patch or a nice to have, but part of the basic design?

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Full link to Podcast episode here:https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/j36uj812fcsx71yqwbihe/BlindnessisNeurodivergenceWhytheSensoryOnlyLabelErases.m4a?rlkey=ple3d8ji6iwexyjhsa4b0r2rv&st=gvsbduvl&dl=0

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Living with Sexitis Pigmentosa: About Me

A blog about blindness, sexuality, and living fully in a body and mind worth celebrating.

This blog is my corner of the internet—a space where I get to show up whole. I write from the academic to the personal, from lived experience to professional insight, always with the goal of unpacking shame, challenging stigma, and making room for pleasure, pride, curiosity, and connection.

I’m blind with retinitis pigmentosa, a degenerative eye condition that affects peripheral and night vision. I see through a narrow tunnel of central vision, surrounded by what looks like flashing or sparkling lights. Over time, this has changed not just how I navigate the world, but how I interpret it. When the details are blurred or distorted, your brain fills in the blanks. Mine often fills them in with vulvas, penises, and other suggestive shapes. I don’t always see things as they are—I see them as delightfully erotic versions of themselves.

My friend and longtime colleague Bobbi Pompey noticed how my vision seemed to translate almost everything in the world into something whimsically inappropriate or erotic. She coined the term Sexitis Pigmentosa to describe this very specific way of seeing. That Christmas tree you posted without an image description? Looked like a sparkly green sex toy, to me. That flower photo with bright pink and orange petals? Total vulva vibes. This is why image descriptions matter.

And so, Sexitis Pigmentosa became the name of this blog—not just because it’s funny (though it is), but because it reflects me: the way I move through the world, the lens through which I experience and interpret everything around me. It’s a way of honoring the sensory, intellectual, and erotic curiosity that has shaped my life—not in spite of blindness, but alongside it, and often because of it.

I also live with chronic illness, depression, and sensory processing experiences that affect how I navigate the world. I live with psoriatic arthritis, an autoimmune condition that causes joint pain and skin inflammation; and lichen sclerosus, a painful skin condition that affects the genitals and can, over time, erode tissue, reduce sensitivity, and impact sexual pleasure. I also live with sexually transmitted infections including human papillomavirus (HPV) and herpes simplex virus (HSV). These are part of my real, lived body—and I talk about them openly, especially how they intersect with blindness and sexuality. Not to overshare, but to push back on silence and shame, and to honor the full complexity of disabled, sexual lives.

I’m a white, queer, neurodivergent, polyamorous woman and mother. Researching and learning about sex and sexuality has been a special interest of mine since I was very young. I came to studying and understanding blindness later in life, and the intersection of the two has led to a lifetime of exploration—both personal and professional. I’m now a public health and sexual health professional, a coach, a community educator, a researcher, a survivor, a speaker, and a sex-positive troublemaker. I also grew up in East Africa before the internet, in what I often call an information desert when it came to sex, bodies, and disability. That early scarcity shaped my drive to create spaces where people can ask honest questions, unlearn what harms them, and find new language for their own truths.

This blog is for anyone ready to explore access, sexuality, disability, pride, consent, parenting, and possibility. Whether you’re blind, disabled, curious, questioning, or just looking for conversations that hold space for joy, nuance, and real-life bodies—you’re in the right place.

Expect personal stories, professional insights, playful commentary, and thoughtful explorations of where it all overlaps.

I also offer coaching, consulting, facilitation, and training rooted in disability justice and sexual health—for individuals, educators, healthcare providers, and organizations. This blog is just one way I show up in the world—and I’m so glad you’re here. Let’s stay in conversation.

This piece was written by me, with the support of AI tools to shape language and structure. The voice, direction, and lived experience are entirely my own.

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The Price of Silence: Why Blind and LGBTQ Advocacy Must Stand Together

By Laura Millar, MPH, MA, MCHES

I’m sharing this NPR news report by Katherine Kokal, published at WUWM Milwaukee’s NPR, titled “‘A lifeline’ lost: Trump admin cuts program for WI students who are deaf and blind.” It covers Wisconsin’s deafblind program losing federal funding, and I need to talk about something I’ve been hearing throughout my years in the Blind and Disabled community.

As a queer blind public health and sexual health professional working at the intersection of sexuality, disability, and ableism, I’ve been asked some version of these questions, or told some version of this statement, countless times:

“Why are we wasting time on LGBTQ issues, pronouns, gender identity, all that stuff? Why should blind organizations support transgender rights or gay marriage? We need to focus on what matters to US, braille, accessible technology, employment. Those other issues are distractions we can’t afford.”

I understand those frustrations. They are real. Our kids DO need braille, cane skills, accessible technology, and so much more. The exhaustion of constantly fighting for basic accommodations is overwhelming. And yes, learning about new terminology and other movements’ issues can feel like one more thing on an already impossible to-do list.

But here’s what just happened in Wisconsin, and why those questions miss something crucial: A program serving 170 deafblind children lost all federal funding. Not because of budget cuts. Not because it wasn’t working. They lost funding because the program had inclusive hiring practices and used words like “transition” (referring to students transitioning from high school to adult life) and “privilege” (in a family testimonial).

The same ideology that attacks transgender rights was just weaponized to eliminate services for deafblind kids.

This is why we can’t afford to stay in our lane anymore.

When we say “let’s just focus on blindness issues and stay out of LGBTQ stuff,” we miss that attacks on other communities become attacks on us. The same ideology targeting LGBTQ people? It just cut braille and intervener services for deafblind kids. The language and values we think are “distractions”? They’re being used as weapons to eliminate disability services.

And let’s be real: many blind people ARE LGBTQ. When we say “that’s not our issue,” we are telling blind queer and transgender people they don’t fully belong in our community. We are forcing people to choose which part of their identity matters.

The 10 Principles of Disability Justice, developed by Patty Berne, Aurora Levins Morales, Mia Mingus, Stacey Milbern, Leroy F. Moore Jr., Eli Clare, and Sebastian Margaret through their work with Sins Invalid, a disability justice performance project, show us that our fights are connected. These principles, rooted in the leadership of disabled queer and transgender people of color, include intersectionality, cross-movement solidarity, and collective liberation. They teach us that we are not standing with other movements just because it is nice (though it is), but because the same forces threatening LGBTQ people, immigrant families, and communities of color are the exact forces cutting our kids’ disability services.

The 10 Principles are not just abstract values. They are tools for practice. I encourage you to read them, study them, and actively incorporate them into your advocacy, your teaching, your parenting, and your organizational culture. Practicing cultural humility means recognizing that none of us has all the answers, and that our responsibility is to keep learning. Our movements get stronger when we let the leadership of queer, trans, disabled people of color guide us, and when we commit to embedding the 10 Principles into the daily culture of how we work, organize, and live.

It is not enough to know about the principles; we have to let them guide how we show up, how we build movements, and how we refuse to leave anyone behind.

We are not choosing between braille and transgender rights. We are recognizing that if we do not stand together across movements, we all lose separately.

The question isn’t “why are we wasting time on LGBTQ issues when our kids need braille.”

The real question is: “How do we build solidarity strong enough that when any of us are targeted, we all rise together?”

Because Wisconsin just showed us, they are already coming for all of us at once. And that means our survival depends on standing together. Blind advocacy and LGBTQ advocacy are not separate fights. They are interconnected struggles for dignity, belonging, and liberation. And those struggles are tied to the fights of immigrant families, communities of color, and so many others facing systemic erasure. If we allow ourselves to be divided, we will all keep losing pieces of the future our kids deserve. If we choose solidarity, we create the possibility of something bigger, stronger, and freer than any of us can build alone.

Read the full NPR news report: “‘A lifeline’ lost: Trump admin cuts program for WI students who are deaf and blind” by Katherine Kokal at WUWM Milwaukee’s NPR.

Learn more about the 10 Principles of Disability Justice at Sins Invalid: https://www.sinsinvalid.org/disability-justice-principles

Let’s have these conversations. I write about disability justice, sexuality, and building inclusive movements at https://www.lauramillar.com, where you can also learn about my consulting and training services. Support this work at https://www.patreon.com/lauramillar.

This piece was developed with the support of AI technology for drafting and editing. All ideas, perspectives, and final direction are my own.

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Pride Never Ends: Building Inclusive Education for Blind and Queer Youth

Image description: Progress Pride Flag with a white cane crossing diagonally and the words “Blind & Proud” in rainbow letters on a black background.

A Message to Our Community

Happy Pride to every blind person navigating a world that wasn’t built for us, but still choosing to live their joy, truth, and power. Whether you’re out and loudly proud or quietly becoming, this message is for you. And if you’re a teacher, service provider, advocate, policymaker, or someone who cares about blind and queer youth, you’re part of this too. You don’t need to have all the answers. You just need to care enough to keep learning. And the fact that you’re reading this already matters.

As we close out Pride Month, let’s celebrate not just visibility and community, but also commitment. A commitment to making sure blind and queer youth don’t just survive in our systems, but thrive.

 

Growing Up Without Representation

I was raised in East Africa, in communities where heteronormativity wasn’t just a cultural expectation—it was enforced by law. Being LGBTQ+ was illegal, and in some places, it still is punishable by death. Even though one of my mother’s best friends was queer, and my mother was warm, supportive, and open, we all understood the risks. The love he felt had serious consequences if found out. So we were careful. Kind. Quiet. Because of this, I didn’t learn about queerness as a movement or community. There were no out couples. No representation. I simply assumed what I’d been taught: grow up, marry a man, have a family, carry on.

I also didn’t grow up with language that reflected who I was becoming, and certainly not with positive messages around blindness or queerness. That absence wasn’t neutral. It was shaped by systemic ableism, homophobia, and transphobia—forces that continue to influence education, healthcare, family dynamics, and cultural representation. I internalized those systems deeply, absorbing messages that framed queerness as deviance and blindness as deficiency. These internalized beliefs—internalized ableism and internalized homophobia—taught me to question my worth, my desirability, and my future.

 

My Journey into Queer Identity and Education

My sex education? A quick, diagram-heavy class in middle school that covered puberty and anatomy—nothing about consent, pleasure, identity, or relationships. Just function, no meaning. I didn’t know other family structures or ways of being even existed.

That changed when I moved to Chico, California for college. In my first Sex Ed 101 class, my professor brought in a panel of LGBTQ+ people to share their experiences. They spoke about their lives with honesty, humor, grief, and joy. In doing so, they gave me something I had never had before: language, permission, and a way in.

Suddenly I had words that opened doors inside me that led to greater freedom and understanding. I began naming my identity—first as bicurious, then bisexual, then pansexual, and now adopting and loving the term queer. I met classmates who shared my questions and affirmed my existence. When that same professor asked me to become her teaching assistant, it opened yet another door that I didn’t know I had been waiting for all my life: it sparked a journey into public health, sexuality education, and the pursuit of accessible, affirming systems that don’t just include us—they welcome us.

 

Learning to Be Blind & Proud

Queerness wasn’t the only identity I had to learn to live into. I became blind in my early twenties, after years of living in a sighted world without understanding what blindness meant or how it might be part of my story. I didn’t grow up with blind mentors. I didn’t see blind adults with power, agency, or pride. I had no roadmap. The world I lived in was built for sighted people, and it showed. I internalized the idea that blindness was a deficit, something to hide, something that made me less competent, less attractive, less human. That kind of invisibility is a direct result of systemic ableism, and it shapes how you imagine your worth, your future, your relationships. But despite all of that, I found another way forward.

And here I am. Blind & Proud.

That phrase isn’t just a slogan—it’s a truth I came to over time. It’s a love letter to every blind person who has ever been told to make themselves smaller, to wait, to settle, to never strive for greatness. It is a declaration that we belong to ourselves. That we don’t need to trade dignity for access. That our pride isn’t conditional—it’s inherent in who we are.

Blind & Proud means knowing that my blindness connects me to a culture, a lineage, and a community that knows how to create within constraints, to love with both abandon and precision, and to lead with truth. I’m whole. I didn’t grow up with all the models I needed, but I work every day to ensure that blind and queer youth don’t have to build themselves alone.

 

How History and Systems Shape Sex Education

Internalized ableism, homophobia, and transphobia are not just personal struggles, they are structural conditions. They are embedded in what schools don’t teach, what families fear to say, what policies erase, and what society punishes outright. When I talk about transforming sex education and transitional services, I’m not just speaking from lived experience—I’m speaking as a blind public health and sexual health professional who is actively working to build what I never had access to.

Historically, sex education for blind and disabled people has been built on a foundation of ableism and heteronormativity. In the 19th and 20th centuries, eugenics-driven policies justified denying disabled people autonomy and access to sexual knowledge. Blind children were sometimes forced to sleep with their hands outside the covers to prevent self-exploration. Queer identities weren’t just ignored, they were ostracized and criminalized—and in some places, they still are. In landmark cases like Buck v. Bell, the U.S. Supreme Court upheld forced sterilization of people deemed “unfit,” including disabled people. This wasn’t ancient history—it was law.

Sex education curricula have long assumed heterosexuality as the only path. Blind students, if taught at all, were expected to conform to standards that didn’t always reflect our bodies, desires, or realities. And queer blind students? We were rarely acknowledged, much less affirmed. The legacy of eugenics, combined with the normalization of heteronormativity, left little room for disabled or queer youth to see themselves in the content—or in the people teaching it.

 

What’s Still Missing in 2025

Today, many transitional-age programs still fall short of offering culturally responsive, gender-affirming, and accessible education. Curricula are often stripped of LGBTQ+ content. Staff are frequently untrained in LGBTQ+ cultural humility or disability justice. And many policies are outdated, failing to reflect the inclusion, language, and intersectional equity frameworks we should expect in 2025. These are not bad people. They are professionals working within systems—school districts, residential programs, rehabilitation centers, and transitional services—that were never designed with blind and queer youth in mind.

 

Harmful Messages and Missed Opportunities

And blind LGBTQ+ youth are living with the consequences. Many lack access to medically accurate, inclusive information. Some have never had their pronouns respected in a school setting. Some have been denied participation in health lessons due to guardians’ discomfort. Others have had to unlearn shame-based metaphors from abstinence-only programs.

One metaphor compares students to a piece of tape—used over and over again on different surfaces until it no longer sticks—implying that anyone who has had sex is damaged or incapable of love. Another metaphor passes around a cup of water for students to spit into, asking if they’d drink it now that it’s been “used.” These metaphors shame youth, especially queer kids and those who’ve experienced assault, into believing their worth is tied to sexual “purity.” They teach nothing about boundaries, communication, or consent.

 

What Inclusive Education Could Look Like

Contrast that with what comprehensive, accessible, and inclusive sex education could look like: a space where blind and queer youth learn that their bodies are good, their choices matter, and their identities are worthy of respect. A place where they are taught how to name their needs and explore relationships built on mutual understanding and care. A classroom where pleasure isn’t taboo, but human. A truly pleasure-centered approach teaches young people to know their bodies, communicate their needs, set boundaries, and explore what safety, joy, and mutual respect can look like.

 

Addressing Isolation and Building Culture

Many blind students also experience heightened social isolation. Without peers or mentors to reflect their identities, they may feel alone in both their queerness and their blindness. Some face increased risk of abuse due to lack of access to consent education or systems that treat them as incapable of asserting boundaries. These are public health failures—and preventable ones.

We can build something better, and the wisdom to do so is already here. Blind and queer educators, advocates, and youth have long been creating tools, models, and conversations that center access, agency, and joy. Blind-positive culture teaches interdependence, creative problem-solving, and emotional precision. Queer culture teaches that joy is resistance, family is chosen, and love is expansive. What’s been missing isn’t the insight—it’s the investment. When we begin to trust and resource the people most impacted, the path forward becomes not only possible, but powerful.

 

Pride as a Year-Round Commitment

When we say Pride Never Ends, we’re not just talking about identity. We’re talking about systems. Inclusive education for blind and queer youth means more than braille sex ed or diverse lesson plans. It means shifting the culture of education itself, where access is non-negotiable, joy is central, and queer and disabled youth are seen as leaders in the making, not problems to be solved. That kind of pride doesn’t fit in one month. It’s something we live, build, and protect all year long.

A Blind & Proud approach to education doesn’t treat access as accommodation—it treats it as foundational to leadership, identity, and joy.

 

Practicing Consent Culture

I’ve watched blind queer youth ask the questions we were once too afraid to speak aloud and be met with affirmation, not silence. Imagine a sex ed class with tactile models, braille handouts, and gender-inclusive language. A life-skills program that names queerness, teaches dating safety, and models healthy boundaries. A school environment where blindness is affirmed, gender is self-defined, and consent is practiced daily. We already have the tools. We just need to use them.

Consent culture is foundational to all of this. In today’s divided political climate, LGBTQ+ rights are under attack, and disability protections are being rolled back. But consent culture may be one of the few values we can still unite around. It teaches that everyone deserves bodily autonomy. That communication should be clear, accessible, and mutual. That respect for identity isn’t optional. For blind queer youth, this isn’t just theory—it’s survival.

It means being able to say:

“I’d love to connect, but can we first talk about what makes this feel safe and accessible for both of us?”

“Before we move forward, I need you to understand and affirm my identity—not just tolerate it.”

“I use a mobility aid and I also have boundaries—please ask before touching me or my cane.”

These aren’t just good communication habits—they are survival strategies in a world that too often treats blind and queer bodies as public property or afterthoughts. And they are teachable. They belong in our classrooms, our trainings, and our everyday interactions. Because when blind and queer youth are taught that their needs, boundaries, and identities matter, they don’t just learn to navigate the world—they begin to reshape it.

 

Join Us in the Work Ahead

If you’ve made it this far, thank you. You’re already part of the change. Whether you’re reviewing your curriculum, planning a workshop, or just having more honest conversations, this work is ongoing and deeply needed. Make sure sex ed materials are available in accessible formats. Train staff in LGBTQ+ cultural humility and disability justice. Integrate consent culture, relationship skills, and pleasure-based frameworks. And include queer and disabled people in curriculum design, policy reviews, and leadership roles.

If you’re looking to connect, learn more, or collaborate—you can always start at www.lauramillar.com.We’re also growing a team through the Blind Sexuality Access Network (BSAN), offering training, consulting, and peer-led insight from blind educators and advocates. Learn more at www.blindsexualityaccessnetwork.org

So as Pride Month ends, let’s carry its spirit forward. Let’s show what it means when Pride Never Ends—not just through celebration, but through curriculum, consent, culture, and connection. Being Blind & Proud is more than a feeling. It’s a framework. A future. A love letter to every blind and queer person who has ever felt unseen.We see you. We are you. And we’re not going anywhere. Happy Pride!

 

Authorship Note

This piece was written by Laura Millar, with structural and editorial support from ChatGPT. The content reflects both my lived experience and my professional work in the Blind Community. I use AI tools thoughtfully—to support clarity, flow, and organization—but the voice, vision, and message are mine, and I stand fully behind them.

 

About the Author

Laura Millar (she/they) is a blind, queer public health and sexuality education professional, a parent, and a co-founder of the Blind Sexuality Access Network. Her work blends lived experience and professional expertise to challenge ableism, build consent culture, and expand access to pleasure-centered education. Learn more about Laura at www.lauramillar.com/about

 

In-Depth Image Description and Credit

The image features the Progress Pride Flag as the background. Six horizontal stripes make up the traditional rainbow Pride flag:Red symbolizes life,Orange symbolizes healing,Yellow symbolizes sunlight,Green symbolizes nature,Blue symbolizes serenity or harmony,and Purple symbolizes spirit.

On the left side of the flag, chevron stripes point toward the center. These include black and brown to represent people of color and the need to address racism within the LGBTQ+ community, and light blue, pink, and white to represent the transgender community.

A white cane, a mobility tool used by blind individuals to navigate the world, crosses diagonally from the top left to the bottom right of the flag, visually connecting pride in blindness with LGBTQ+ identity.

Below the flag, the words “BLIND & PROUD” appear in large, bold, uppercase letters. Each letter is filled with one of the six traditional Pride colors. The entire design sits against a solid black background, enhancing visibility and providing strong visual contrast.

This graphic boldly affirms intersectional identity, celebrating both blind and LGBTQ+ pride.

 

Credit

The Progress Pride Flag was designed by Daniel Quasar. Learn more at progress.gay.

The “Blind & Proud” graphic was created by Murdock Storm. Find more of their work on Instagram at @startedsailing and @startedraining