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She’s a Nobel Peace Prize nominee, World Economic Forum’s Global Leader for Tomorrow, Time Magazine’s HERO, Oprah Winfrey’s personal choice for her show "Eight Women Oprah Wants You To Know” and much more. She’s the co-founder of “Braille without Borders”—an international organisation for the blind, and kanthari—an incubator for social change makers, also our feature story next week (Stay tuned!).At the age of 10 Sabriye lost complete vision from her eyes. In her own words, she has had three lives—first as a child with lots of action and sight, second—a life of fear and isolation, and third— her current life—one full of excitement and adventure. In an exclusive interview with BeBadass, Sabriye discusses her life's journey - dealing with Blindness and empowering others, observations as a social change maker and her plans for the future.
How did you process your anger and fear at having been born with a retinal disease and losing complete eyesight at the age of 10?
The process of becoming blind is rather slow. It started with the loss of colour vision, followed by night blindness and the loss of central vision which took away the ability to read or look at pictures and drawings. I really missed my life as a sighted child—mainly because I was a very visual child. I loved to speed on my bicycle, ride horses, climb trees, paint and draw. But more than missing sight, I was afraid, I experienced a lot of fear—fear of isolation, fear of being discriminated against and fear of living my life in darkness. Darkness was what I feared the most.
When I look back, I realise most of these fears did come true. I learned what it felt like to be discriminated against—not just open and hostile discrimination with children shouting at me—but more subtler and indirect discrimination by adults. My teachers, for example, started ignoring me or speaking to me in a baby voice— as if I were not only blind but also a bit stupid! There were days and even weeks when I hardly talked. I had become very introverted and fearful.
My parents, both of whom were politically active and creative and critical thinkers, ran a theatre school that focussed on music and dance. The school’s purpose was to empower children from marginalized communities to create social change. This helped me to surround myself with other children, adults, actors and dancers who were not mainstream thinkers but who had the guts to challenge the status quo. My parents and people who were part of the theatre school did not try to save or overprotect me. They always assured me: One day I would have the strength to get myself out of the mess. And in the meantime, they chose to read books to me. Books that had something to do with my life.
How did the “Black is Beautiful” movement impact you as a child?
My parents and their friends sympathized with and supported the black power movement in the 60s and early 70s. I was fascinated by the movement myself—and remember feeling the anger against injustice and also the fear of being different.
Before the movement, many African-Americans—tired of being sidelined—would try to fit in by bleaching their skin and straightening their hair. To my surprise I reacted similarly in many situations—I tried to look sighted, avoided dark corners or heavy traffic, remembered people by the colors of their jackets so I could pretend to recognize them and call them by their names—and then feel completely embarrassed when I made mistakes.
I was personally confronted with the sentence "Black is beautiful'' when I was deep into my transformation from being sighted to blind. It hit me like an electric shock. I started to question my sorrows and I hated myself for being so whiny—and constantly glorifying activities that I could do as a sighted child. I understood that self-pity is never energizing and therefore I needed a change. "Black is beautiful'' became a magic catalyst. I still remember, lying in my bed and playing around with the few English words I knew: "black is beautiful, blind is black. So blind is beautiful."
This new idea pushed me out of my self-destruction. It gave me the courage to ask myself, what is beautiful about being blind? And soon I had the answers.
Could you tell us more about how blindness is a privilege and an advantage for social visionaries?
Being blind and living in a world that is made for the sighted forced me to become a problem solver. First, I had to solve problems for my own daily matters—after all, I was the only blind person I knew in my surroundings. No one could advise me. But later, problem-solving became a habit and I started to solve other people's problems as well.
Not being distracted by visual input—landscapes, sunsets, faces and photographs—I was able to focus on what really mattered. Since I could not rely on non-verbal communication, I had to become a clear communicator. I had to think in a structured way, and I had to be able to simplify complicated matters.
Although I did not have any light perception—a fact confirmed by my ophthalmologists—the world surrounding me became much more colorful. I experienced that the lack of sight made my visual imagination much clearer.
Is there a myth about blindness that you’d like to dismantle?
I realised that my fear of darkness was a myth—darkness never came. In all my conversations with people who were born blind and people who became blind at a later age—not one person felt like they were left in darkness.
This concept of darkness is a myth of the sighted, who have a very limited imagination of what it is like to be blind. And in my opinion, it is a dangerous myth. It makes us, the blind, seem helpless and disempowered. If the myth were a different one, for example, that we have a different perspective on life, the world would look more on our possibilities rather than focusing on limitations only.
How did you get yourself through and out of your own limitations?
First, I came from a background that provided me with both love and trust. My parents never overprotected me—unlike many other parents, including Indian parents, having children with disabilities—who mistake love for ‘complete protection’—not realising that this makes a child even more insecure.
Additionally, I was always taken seriously by my parents. The creative rage about injustice was never discouraged. In our theatre school, as children we learned to fail, to make a fool of ourselves, to be crazy and not to be everybody's darling. The 70s was a politically free era where we learned that critical thinking meant looking beyond the obvious.
I also grew up with stories of adventure and excitement. In fact, my mother was very adventurous herself. At 21, she found herself living in Turkey and studying Islamic art—as part of which she would dress up like a man to visit mosques. All of this made me want to have a life filled with excitement—nevermind if I was blind or not. In my teenage years I claimed four rights:
And this took me on my own path.
How did the experience of creating the Tibetan braille script and empowering blind children in Tibet shape your worldview?
The experience taught me to dare to dream and not be easily discouraged by non-dreamers. The only stranger who was not completely confused when I talked about starting the first school for the blind in Tibet and one of the very few persons that I know of who can dream big is Paul Kronenberg, who later became the co-founder of “Braille without Borders” and “kanthari”.
Every time Paul and I discussed our plans to start a school for the blind, a vocational training farm with a cheese factory and bio bakery, or an international training hub for social change makers, it was quite interesting, how many times people tried to convince us not to do this or that. They would immediately tell us, "You cannot do this! Stay on the ground, you are too small for these big dreams" or to me specifically, they’d say, "That will not work, it is too difficult, even for a sighted person!"
At first, I wondered why they were so eager in telling me this. And then I figured it out: They felt uncomfortable that sight was not an advantage anymore. It did not help them to overcome their own fears. Sighted or blind, it didn't matter anymore. For many, this is a difficult truth to digest.
How do you deal with failure and the lows of life?
Today, I have the possibility to surround myself with international critical thinkers and proactive doers to whom it is not important whether someone is blind or sighted. In this way I created a mini society that values true equality. And yes, I failed many times.
But if you have so many ideas that you want to go for, it is only natural that most of them fail. On the other hand, the more you fail, the more you enjoy the rethinking process. If people are narrow minded and do not take me seriously, I give them sufficient reasons to rethink their position so their horizon can expand.
How does it feel to get the recognition you have – from being named as one of the ‘Leaders of Tomorrow’ by the World Economic Forum to also being interviewed by Oprah?
I am focused on what we are doing, so there is not much time to feel honored or even proud. These awards are helpful to spread the message. In my opinion, awards should not be taken too personally, it is for the cause that we are working. For me, it is just an indication of a mindset shift that has taken place by the people who provided the award and that, of course, is very satisfying.
What is the most rewarding part of what you do?
Working intensely with dreamers and then watching them realizing their dreams against all odds.
What are some of your favourite books that have shaped your life in a certain way?
What have been your observations about the biggest issues we face as a society that need attention?
In your experience, how should one go about changing mindsets—a key but challenging part of any social change?
It is possible to change mindsets even of those who would normally be considered to be rather stubborn. We need to put ourselves into the other person's shoes, even if we do not agree with their opinions/actions. We need to find out about their motives which are usually linked with fear, ignorance and/or inflexibility. Then it is up to our creative mindset to change the motivation bit by bit. To make the change desirable, the benefits of making the change need to be bigger than the sacrifice—and to ensure that change is sustainable it must come from within. We learned this in a highly conservative society in Tibet where blind people were seen as punished souls—but are now accepted as leaders and change makers. It is possible.
What are the key skill sets that a social change maker or a problem solver must possess?
She’s a Nobel Peace Prize nominee, World Economic Forum’s Global Leader for Tomorrow, Time Magazine’s HERO, Oprah Winfrey’s personal choice for her show "Eight Women Oprah Wants You To Know” and much more. She’s the co-founder of “Braille without Borders”—an international organisation for the blind, and kanthari—an incubator for social change makers, also our feature story next week (Stay tuned!).At the age of 10 Sabriye lost complete vision from her eyes. In her own words, she has had three lives—first as a child with lots of action and sight, second—a life of fear and isolation, and third— her current life—one full of excitement and adventure. In an exclusive interview with BeBadass, Sabriye discusses her life's journey - dealing with Blindness and empowering others, observations as a social change maker and her plans for the future.
How did you process your anger and fear at having been born with a retinal disease and losing complete eyesight at the age of 10?
The process of becoming blind is rather slow. It started with the loss of colour vision, followed by night blindness and the loss of central vision which took away the ability to read or look at pictures and drawings. I really missed my life as a sighted child—mainly because I was a very visual child. I loved to speed on my bicycle, ride horses, climb trees, paint and draw. But more than missing sight, I was afraid, I experienced a lot of fear—fear of isolation, fear of being discriminated against and fear of living my life in darkness. Darkness was what I feared the most.
When I look back, I realise most of these fears did come true. I learned what it felt like to be discriminated against—not just open and hostile discrimination with children shouting at me—but more subtler and indirect discrimination by adults. My teachers, for example, started ignoring me or speaking to me in a baby voice— as if I were not only blind but also a bit stupid! There were days and even weeks when I hardly talked. I had become very introverted and fearful.
My parents, both of whom were politically active and creative and critical thinkers, ran a theatre school that focussed on music and dance. The school’s purpose was to empower children from marginalized communities to create social change. This helped me to surround myself with other children, adults, actors and dancers who were not mainstream thinkers but who had the guts to challenge the status quo. My parents and people who were part of the theatre school did not try to save or overprotect me. They always assured me: One day I would have the strength to get myself out of the mess. And in the meantime, they chose to read books to me. Books that had something to do with my life.
How did the “Black is Beautiful” movement impact you as a child?
My parents and their friends sympathized with and supported the black power movement in the 60s and early 70s. I was fascinated by the movement myself—and remember feeling the anger against injustice and also the fear of being different.
Before the movement, many African-Americans—tired of being sidelined—would try to fit in by bleaching their skin and straightening their hair. To my surprise I reacted similarly in many situations—I tried to look sighted, avoided dark corners or heavy traffic, remembered people by the colors of their jackets so I could pretend to recognize them and call them by their names—and then feel completely embarrassed when I made mistakes.
I was personally confronted with the sentence "Black is beautiful'' when I was deep into my transformation from being sighted to blind. It hit me like an electric shock. I started to question my sorrows and I hated myself for being so whiny—and constantly glorifying activities that I could do as a sighted child. I understood that self-pity is never energizing and therefore I needed a change. "Black is beautiful'' became a magic catalyst. I still remember, lying in my bed and playing around with the few English words I knew: "black is beautiful, blind is black. So blind is beautiful."
This new idea pushed me out of my self-destruction. It gave me the courage to ask myself, what is beautiful about being blind? And soon I had the answers.
Could you tell us more about how blindness is a privilege and an advantage for social visionaries?
Being blind and living in a world that is made for the sighted forced me to become a problem solver. First, I had to solve problems for my own daily matters—after all, I was the only blind person I knew in my surroundings. No one could advise me. But later, problem-solving became a habit and I started to solve other people's problems as well.
Not being distracted by visual input—landscapes, sunsets, faces and photographs—I was able to focus on what really mattered. Since I could not rely on non-verbal communication, I had to become a clear communicator. I had to think in a structured way, and I had to be able to simplify complicated matters.
Although I did not have any light perception—a fact confirmed by my ophthalmologists—the world surrounding me became much more colorful. I experienced that the lack of sight made my visual imagination much clearer.
Is there a myth about blindness that you’d like to dismantle?
I realised that my fear of darkness was a myth—darkness never came. In all my conversations with people who were born blind and people who became blind at a later age—not one person felt like they were left in darkness.
This concept of darkness is a myth of the sighted, who have a very limited imagination of what it is like to be blind. And in my opinion, it is a dangerous myth. It makes us, the blind, seem helpless and disempowered. If the myth were a different one, for example, that we have a different perspective on life, the world would look more on our possibilities rather than focusing on limitations only.
How did you get yourself through and out of your own limitations?
First, I came from a background that provided me with both love and trust. My parents never overprotected me—unlike many other parents, including Indian parents, having children with disabilities—who mistake love for ‘complete protection’—not realising that this makes a child even more insecure.
Additionally, I was always taken seriously by my parents. The creative rage about injustice was never discouraged. In our theatre school, as children we learned to fail, to make a fool of ourselves, to be crazy and not to be everybody's darling. The 70s was a politically free era where we learned that critical thinking meant looking beyond the obvious.
I also grew up with stories of adventure and excitement. In fact, my mother was very adventurous herself. At 21, she found herself living in Turkey and studying Islamic art—as part of which she would dress up like a man to visit mosques. All of this made me want to have a life filled with excitement—nevermind if I was blind or not. In my teenage years I claimed four rights:
And this took me on my own path.
How did the experience of creating the Tibetan braille script and empowering blind children in Tibet shape your worldview?
The experience taught me to dare to dream and not be easily discouraged by non-dreamers. The only stranger who was not completely confused when I talked about starting the first school for the blind in Tibet and one of the very few persons that I know of who can dream big is Paul Kronenberg, who later became the co-founder of “Braille without Borders” and “kanthari”.
Every time Paul and I discussed our plans to start a school for the blind, a vocational training farm with a cheese factory and bio bakery, or an international training hub for social change makers, it was quite interesting, how many times people tried to convince us not to do this or that. They would immediately tell us, "You cannot do this! Stay on the ground, you are too small for these big dreams" or to me specifically, they’d say, "That will not work, it is too difficult, even for a sighted person!"
At first, I wondered why they were so eager in telling me this. And then I figured it out: They felt uncomfortable that sight was not an advantage anymore. It did not help them to overcome their own fears. Sighted or blind, it didn't matter anymore. For many, this is a difficult truth to digest.
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