My Problem with Glasses

By Diana Brent

A quick Google search tells me that some form of eyewear for improving vision has been around since Ancient Egypt and Greece. The very first eyeglasses were invented in the mid 13^th century in Italy by Salvino D’Armati, Galileo turned the telescope on the sky in 1608, and Benjamin Franklin is credited with inventing bifocals around 1784. We have certainly come a long way since then.

Glasses may cut down glare or improve vision for people with partial sight, and in days gone by, sunglasses were the signature of blindness for those of us with little or no useable vision. Many of us still choose to don specs for cosmetic reasons or to cut out bothersome brightness if we have some light perception. When I was a child playing with my friends in the woods, I wore glasses to protect my eyes from being scratched by pesky twigs and branches, and many of us wear safety glasses for all kinds of sports and other activities.  

With recent advances in large language learning models for AI and improved technology for all kinds of electronic wearables, AI-powered glasses of all shapes, sizes, and fashions are saturating the market, claiming to be the best and including the most advanced technology for blind and sighted customers alike. And, best of all, they’re not just an unaffordable future fantasy any more.

As an early adopter, caught up in the frenzied clamoring for Meta Ray-Bans, I bought a pair last October. I went through the usual charades, screaming at them when they didn’t understand my commands and swearing obscenities in frustration when they insisted on summarizing everything I asked them to read rather than just reading it.

All my life, I have understood that mastering any new piece of technology poses steep learning challenges before its nut is cracked. Then suddenly, I’m connected at the hip, and it has become the greatest thing since sliced bread. Not so with my glasses, however; And after a couple of wearings, the Ray-Bans got consigned to the depths of a drawer; safely stowed until I recently sold them.

The problem that I should have realized early on, was far more complex and deep-seated than simply not taking the time to learn their eccentricities. My house is a haven of all kinds of talking technology and appliances, all nagging for my attention and I am happy to comply as it all improves my independence. So what is my problem with glasses? They are hands-free, easy to direct for reading mystery packaging and mail, and also will provide all kinds of useful information about objects in my surroundings. What’s not to like?

Well here’s the thing, and for me it’s not new. It no longer seems so odd to hear people having one-sided conversations in public--I’ve done that myself on occasion. But, I feel like a blithering idiot wandering about my environment, mumbling questions or firmly commanding the air to obey. I can’t get past the weirdness of speaking back to inanimate objects. I rarely commune with Siri, except to tell her to restart my phone, and even then, her smarmy know-it-all voice wants confirmation.

I do have my emotional support braille display which will sometimes allow me to type my queries and read the responses in private, but where’s the hands-free advantage in that? I have finally managed to tell my smart speaker to play my favourite streaming station, so I guess that’s a step in the right direction.

Oh yes, and here’s my final conundrum. Wearing glasses makes me uncomfortable, and it’s not the feeling of them squeezing my face, pinching my nose, or bugging my ears. I haven’t decided if it’s the stigma that used to be associated with blind people wearing glasses, or just that I feel like an impostor with people thinking I can see when I can’t.

This is all definitely a work in progress for me.