“Living abroad as a blind woman, I felt accepted for the first time in my life”

Blind since birth, advocate, musician and author Heather Hutchison uncovered a newfound sense of belonging and acceptance on an impromptu trip to Peru. 

As a blind person, I think of accessibility on two levels. On the one hand, you have physical accessibility: things like ramps, elevators and Braille. And then you have a more holistic kind of accessibility, which is all about meeting the deeper, emotional needs of disabled people. It’s to do with acceptance and belonging. 

Growing up in Vancouver, Canada, I’ve found there’s more awareness of the first part. This is a nation that does provide facilities for people with visual impairments (although we’ve got further to go). But we’re missing that wider – and vital – mindset of inclusion. 

Often, the barriers in my way are other people’s attitudes

I’ve learnt to become really good at problem-solving. But even so, things become difficult when the barriers in my way come from other people’s attitudes. For example, I’ve had university professors telling me I can’t take certain classes, simply because I don’t have the same “ability” as other students. It’s an assumption, not a fact. There’s no concept of, “how can we make this work?”

I encounter similar shows of ableism a lot in my daily life. There’s a cashier at my local supermarket who always congratulates me when I successfully tap my credit card to pay for groceries. She’s so condescending about it. But my friends and I tend to laugh it off.

If you don’t laugh, you cry – and I have to pick my battles. I couldn’t possibly spend my life calling out all the microaggressions that come my way. Yet, at the same time, I think I’ve always been looking for more of a connection; a culture that welcomes me with warmth and acceptance. 

That’s exactly what I found when my partner, Jordan, and I decided to move to Lima, the capital of Peru, for a year. I grew up with lots of friends from Latin America, and I speak Spanish, so it was always an area of the world that intrigued me. After I got a qualification to teach English abroad, Jordan and I took the plunge. We had nothing planned, and took almost nothing with us. We just craved that experience of being far from home. 

In Peru, there’s a big emphasis on family and belonging

The traffic in Lima is insane to navigate, and the city is home to quite high crime levels. As a blind person travelling abroad, it would be easy to feel vulnerable there – especially since it’s less set up for people with visual disabilities. 

Yet almost from the moment I arrived, I felt a real sense of “me-ness”. Why? The Peruvians I met – everyone around me – treated me as a whole person. I never had anyone like the credit card lady, or strangers saying, “What’s wrong with you?” When I was out and about on the streets of Lima, people would help me but without making a big deal of it. They just intuitively recognised what needed to be done – for example, making way for me as I got off a bus – then got on with their day.

I was greeted with the same attitude in my classes, too. Back home in Canada, a few students told me that they were uncomfortable with the fact that I was blind. But in Peru, it barely came up in conversation. As far as my students were concerned, I was just their English teacher. I had my Braille display on-hand, along with a Braille book of my favourite exercises, and I got students to send me homework in advance. But beyond those few provisions, it was just business as usual.

Another thing I welcomed is that Peruvian culture is less obsessed with safety. In Canada, there are so many things that I want to try, but the people in charge tell me, “Oh I don’t think you should, it could be dangerous”. In Peru, however, there’s more of an emphasis on family and belonging. You’re part of a group, which means you do things together. So if you want to climb a mountain, for example, they will say, “OK, how can we make this happen?” It’s a lot less exclusionary.

I was greeted with such hospitality and openness

I think adversity plays a role, too. In Peru, communities typically face much bigger problems than Canadians do – whether that’s inequality, poverty or human rights violations. So on an everyday basis, Peruvians make less of a deal out of difference (however that manifests itself). It’s not something that makes people uncomfortable because they’re not living in the same kind of bubble we see in more privileged societies. 

That year in Lima taught me the power of connecting with local people; of being invited into their homes and hearing their stories. Where I come from, it’s common to keep to yourself or be clique-y. But in South America, my partner and I were greeted with such hospitality and openness. It was easy to build an active social life.

We met tons of amazing people and were invited everywhere from park gatherings to sand-boarding in the desert, club nights and family birthday parties (where we tried the local delicacy of guinea pig for the first time). We tried so much street food, too, and fresh fruit juices. It was fantastic to get a real taste of local life, away from all the tourist sights. 

As a musician and songwriter, one particular highlight for me was being able to visit Lima’s National Conservatory of Music. I ended up joining local musicians to record a number of sessions there. If you listen carefully, you can hear the sound of children playing, along with other street sounds, in the background. It’s a great memento to have, especially since I can’t look back at photos.  

My time living in South America taught me to accept myself

I was heartbroken to leave Peru when our year there ended; but it also inspired Jordan and I to continue travelling. Almost straight away, we started making regular trips to Mexico City, working there remotely for a month or so at a time. It’s another place where I’ve felt truly welcomed, and we’ve made loads of friends in the city.

I’ve suffered from mental health problems from a young age. And I think that travel – the ability to meet new people, and get out of an environment that you may feel stuck in – can really help. My time living in South America and Mexico has taught me to accept myself because I’ve been seen in my entirety – beyond “the blind girl” label. I’ve been able to connect with local people in a way that feels meaningful and rewarding.

It’s this openness that recently inspired me to write my memoir, Holding On by Letting Go. It’s a very raw account; it details many of my experiences as a blind person, including being hospitalised for psychiatric care during the Covid pandemic. I had sleepless nights over being so honest about what I’ve been through. But I think it’s really important to share the ups and downs of struggling with mental health. Recovery isn’t linear, and there’s no quick fix. But life can get better.

I’m seen as a whole person – beyond ‘the blind girl’ label

The public response has been overwhelming. People from all over the world have messaged me to say that reading the book has inspired them to seek help themselves, in situations that can feel very scary and surrounded by stigma. It’s led me to document my own experiences on Instagram and TikTok, prompting a new wave of public speaking and consulting opportunities. 

I could never have imagined the scale of this profound reaction to my story. It’s been a wild few years. But the fact that I can help people feel less alone makes everything more than worth it. 

Best-selling author Heather Hutchison is a content creator, mental health advocate and award-winning singer/songwriter. Her work empowers people from all walks of life to overcome, to hope, and to find human connection. Heather currently lives on the west coast of Canada with her partner, Jordan, and their cat, Maya.

Got a story or adventure that could inspire a solo traveller like you? Tag @flashpack on social or email [email protected] to be featured.

Images: Heather Hutchison and Connor McCracken/Flash Pack