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It's 4 January, the anniversary of Louis Braille's birth. Every year at this time, I like to reflect on a man who was a teacher in his lifetime, and who in the years after his death has taught us lessons of empowerment, resilience, and self-determination.
Every day, I am grateful for the gift of literacy he gave me and millions like me who are blind. In the last year, I have benefited from that gift by labelling and identifying items.
I have referred to copious notes in meetings as part of my job as a CEO. Also in that role, I know that if I take the time to proof a document with Braille, it will be accurate all the way down to picking up extraneous punctuation that I might miss with text-to-speech.
It has helped the global community of blind podcast listeners as I read aloud with fluency the many contributions that come into my Living Blindfully podcast. One of the most wonderful things about that podcast is when I hear from people who were denied Braille as a child, or who became blind later in life, who have told me that my reading Braille on the podcast has encouraged them to embark on their own Braille reading journey.
I've delivered presentations to audiences around the world, some of those were large audiences, and read my speech notes in Braille.
Best of all, Braille allows me to read stories for my granddaughter, just as I read to my own children when they were little.
My life would be very different, and very much the poorer, without it. And my story is not unusual. The data are clear that blind people who know Braille have a far higher chance of finding employment.
The story of the Braille code shows us that the best people to develop solutions for blind people are blind people ourselves. Louis Braille designed, then refined his code, and taught it to other blind people. There was a period where the books containing his code were burned. The Braille code was driven underground because some sighted people felt threatened by its otherness. They insisted that blind people should conform and read raised print, even though it was inefficient. Thankfully, the Braille code prevailed. That lesson is just as applicable today.
Some think Braille is no longer necessary because blind people have talking books and talking computers now. This view is wrong and harmful. To people who say these things, I say we'll give up Braille when sighted people stop reading print and use audio exclusively too. Braille is our equivalent to print. When something is under my fingertips, I remember it more clearly. It is the same as being a visual learner.
And Braille is more vibrant than ever, thanks to an exciting range of Braille displays. It is also a tool of profound significance for those who are DeafBlind, for whom audio isn't an option.
So once again, a toast to Louis Braille the man, and Braille the code which in New Zealand we capitalise to always remember his genius and his sacrifice.