They were nodding. Seated around a table, four women and one man who could see nothing but darkness were nodding at each other.
Another man at the table was not. He sat straight and still while his golden-furred dog rested at his feet. Dressed in a well-pressed blue button-up and khakis, not being able to see the world around him was nothing new for Michael Jernigan. He lost both eyes when a roadside bomb ripped apart the Humvee that he and several other Marines were in on a hot Iraqi day in 2004.
After a 16-week training program to help him adapt and seven years of navigating life without the use of his vision, Jernigan, a student and Student Government senator, was used to the darkness, or “blackness,” as he called it.
The other members of SG’s University, Community, and Governmental Affairs Committee—Brandi Murphy, Lexi Davies, Eloy Martinez, Emily Gorman and Lauren Reilly—fumbled through the meeting with blindfolds over their eyes. They wondered what time it was and what the text messages said on their buzzing phones. They asked each other questions without explaining who should answer. They got distracted by the noisy copying machine and the sounds of other students moving around the room.
For 40 minutes, they experienced the world that Jernigan has learned to live in. And when those minutes were up, they removed their blindfolds and left to hear former Tampa Mayor Pam Iorio give a speech in Davis Hall.
Jernigan stayed behind, waiting for his ride home to arrive.
***
Lauren Reilly, who is chair of the committee, wanted others to know what Jernigan experiences every day.
“Over the past few months, I have watched Michael Jernigan show up to school sharply dressed and prepared to do his best work,” she said. “He’s always on the ball, so I think that’s what makes it easy for people to forget to accommodate his disability.”
Blindness touches both Reilly’s personal and professional lives. Her 25-year-old cousin from Baltimore, Md., was born with a vision condition. Already blind at night, his vision is diminishing and will one day leave him completely unable to see.
Reilly’s family has gotten involved with the Foundation Fighting Blindness, a charity that funds research for preventions, treatments and cures for retinal degenerative diseases. One of the organization’s most popular benefits is called Dining in the Dark, where attendees literally eat dinner without the use of their vision.
“My family talked about what it was like to eat a meal as a blind person and I was immediately intrigued and curious as to what that would be like,” Reilly said.
She asked Jernigan about using blindfolds during a meeting for the committee they were on together so the senators could gain some understanding about his day-to-day life, and he was all for it.
So on Thursday, Feb. 23, Reilly and four other SG senators sat together at a table, blindfolds in front of them, preparing to experience a meeting as Jernigan experiences them. Reilly started the meeting.
“Blindfold yourselves. I call this meeting to order at 5:06.”
***
The senators discussed green initiatives, walkthroughs of the new Multi-Purpose Student Center, the upcoming SG elections, and other topics. After a half hour, Reilly asked if anyone had any questions.
Emily Gorman shook her head. Several seconds later, she said, “no.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I shook my head.”
The other senators laughed and concurred. Most of them had been doing it during the meeting, but Gorman was the only one to realize that nobody could see her.
“It’s really hard to lead the meeting blindfolded,” Reilly said. She turned the discussion to talk about the experience.
“I keep thinking about… what if this was like this all the time?” said Brandi Murphy. “I keep thinking about all the aspects of how I would handle certain circumstances.”
Jernigan conceded that the thought was a little unfair. He had, after all, been given training classes where he learned how to do everyday tasks, cook meals, do laundry and use adaptive technology. His clothes all have ironed-on bar codes to tell him what he’s wearing, for instance. He also has a device to tell him the color of things. And he’s learned how to iron without the use of his eyesight, most evident when he wears his military uniform to school.
“I’m a snazzy dresser,” he said. “I also had excellent fashion sense before I went blind.”
Thoughtful techniques have helped Jernigan adapt to other aspects of life. Instead of looking both ways before crossing the street, he stops and listens for traffic sounds. He folds money differently depending on the denomination so he can identify different bills by touch, and he made the process simpler by cutting out the $10 bill. He asks for two fives instead.
“This is how I’ve lived for seven-and-a-half years,” Jernigan said. “It’s not the end of your life. You still have a very good life, being blind.”
***
Jernigan uses a talking watch to tell time, and his iPhone has built-in voiceover technology to assist him with making calls. He uses screen-reading software on his computer to help with school and his work with SG.
At a meeting with administration several weeks ago, there was a movement to suspend the regular bill reading rules—senators are usually given much more time to look over a bill—to push through a vote for a video wall in the new Multi-Purpose Student Center. Someone distributed paper copies of the bill to read on the spot.
Jernigan, who usually has paperwork sent to his email to use with his screen reading software, said they needed to give him time to read the bill. The Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 prohibits discrimination based on disability, and not making reasonable accommodations for the known physical or mental limitations of disabled employees is a specifically listed violation.
Jernigan sat for a moment, then asked if the meeting had quorum. It did. By one.
He got up and walked out.
At the end of the meeting where the senators were blindfolded, Jernigan asked them to consider something.
“Imagine if we were to pass out a piece of paper for you to read and then we were to have to make a decision on what that paper says,” he said.
They understood.
***
After the meeting, Reilly said “it was an honor to hear more about [Jernigan’s] struggles and newfound strengths.”
“He fought for our country,” she said.
She was amazed at how even temporary blindness heightened her other senses. The other senators across the room and the copying machine were more distracting than usual, and when she was reading back over the meeting minutes, she remembered more of what people said—while envisioning the accompanying darkness.
But she found that leading the meeting was hard. She had to memorize the agenda and could not take notes. Other senators agreed. It was hard to focus in on what somebody was saying in a noisy room without being able to read their lips, one said. The darkness was disorienting and even a little scary, said another.
Reilly said she walked out of the room with a new understanding and respect for students like Michael Jernigan.
“I give blind students, especially Mike, a lot of credit for how much more effort they put into getting a higher education,” she said.
Photos by Christopher Guinn
