Where Sight Fades, Music Begins
Invisible Disability
Blindness isn’t always visible. It isn’t all or nothing because vision loss is a spectrum, but when I play, the music fills in what sight can not. It gives shape to what’s fading.
By Samantha Alvarez
I was diagnosed with cone-rod dystrophy at the age of 15 after years of unexplained central vision issues.
Now, at age 22, people still ask me, "Why's your music like that?" I'm a musician and have played the clarinet for over 12 years. My sheet music is printed to the size of a restaurant menu or blown up on my tablet with a high-contrast background. What people don’t see is how words melt together or how faces blur under bright light. They don’t see me curbing my step before the edge of the sidewalk or hesitating when someone holds out a pen, afraid I’ll miss.
Sometimes, I wish people would understand that blindness isn't always visible. It isn't all or nothing because vision loss is a spectrum, but when I play, the music fills in what sight can not. It gives shape to what’s fading. Every note is a way of saying: I’m still here and still seeing, just differently.
