2025 Youth Leadership Weekend
Staying up till midnight chatting with my roommate. Promising myself to get to bed earlier the next night, only to stay up till midnight again.
Gathered around that table playing Apples to Apples, mixing up braille contractions and laughing so hard at combinations of words that shouldn’t go together. I will never forget my “smooth buddy” Jerry! Nor the absolutely infectious humor that led even the most reserved of us to dissolve into tears of joy.
The next day, having fun coming up with ridiculously complicated routes—somehow managing to take two SkyTrains and a bus looping in the opposite direction—for a route that could have been accomplished with a 20-minute bus ride. Only to have my suggestion met with, “Sure, let’s try it!” And then, if that weren’t enough, to have it actually end up being faster than the group who took the single bus!
Getting to practice my orientation and mobility skills as we worked to track down and purchase the ingredients for lunch—all while secretly plotting ways to beat the coordinator, Shawn, at Scrabble (for which she is infamous).
A chance to be goofy. To make mistakes. To mix up north and south and lead the group in the wrong direction. To be gently teased by new friends in a good-natured way. For once, feeling no pressure to be perfect. No obligation to perform to anyone else’s standards. Free to be teenagers, to mess up, and laugh with those who get it.
(Though, as for that dog—contrary to popular belief—hitting it was 100% not my fault! It totally ran into my cane!)
That’s not to say I wasn’t nervous. Going into a group of new people, I didn’t know what to expect. I was new to Blind Beginnings. I had recently experienced a change in my vision. Coming from a small town, the thought of navigating the big city was intimidating.
For a long time, I wasn’t sure if I would come. I did the online portion of the Youth Leadership program, but attending in person still felt like a stretch.
As an autistic individual, hearing the plan for the weekend filled me with dread. I get easily overwhelmed, have difficulty with new social interactions, and just the thought of fifteen people in a noisy restaurant filled with clinking dishes and smelly food made me want to run full tilt in the opposite direction. While the weekend seemed designed to be accessible for those who are blind or partially sighted, I feared my needs wouldn’t be considered.
I’m so glad I was wrong.
They made accommodations. I got to slip out into another room to regulate myself—a room with a very awesome, large stuffed octopus, I might add. I received a detailed itinerary ahead of time to alleviate anxiety. My parent was allowed to come in and out to support me where needed, while also giving me space to try things on my own.
Being one of the older ones in attendance, I can’t deny it was hard to ask for these things, knowing that none of my younger peers brought their parents with them. However, I am so glad I did. That extra support made the world of difference for me to feel like I could engage and enjoy the activities.
I realized that just because my needs are slightly different, doesn't mean I can’t feel like I belong and participate too.
By Kaia