Mondays with decent weather mean one thing: a walk to my favorite local spot, BeanStalk Coffee on Main Street here in Norman, Oklahoma. I cut through the brisk wind, navigate the crosswalks with my cane tapping the way, and arrive around 8 AM feeling accomplished.

I order my usual drip coffee (the barista kindly brews a fresh batch when it’s low), grab it when it’s ready, and head outside to a bench a few hundred feet away. Coffee in one hand, I settle in, pull out my iPhone, and start scrolling through Instagram the way I always do.

That’s when it happened. A guy approaches, big smile on his face, and hits me with: “I caught ya!”

I laugh.  What else do you do?  Still grinning like he’s uncovered some big secret, he points out my white cane and says something like, “You’re blind… but you’re looking at your phone”.

Cue my internal laughter.  I smiled back and asked, “Can you see the hearing aids in my ears?”

He said, yes.

Then I explained: “I’m using VoiceOver, the built-in screen reader on my iPhone. It reads everything out loud, and since my hearing aids are Bluetooth, the audio pipes straight into my ears. No need to see the screen at all.”

His jaw dropped. He was genuinely blown away. He apologized right away, called me a “high-tech blind dude,” and we chatted for a minute before he walked off, probably a little wiser.

This isn’t the first time. Over the past year since I started using my cane full-time, I’ve had plenty of these “gotcha” moments. People spot the cane, see me on my phone (or “looking” at it), and assume I’m faking it for attention or sympathy. It’s frustrating, but honestly.  It makes me laugh more than anything now. Because the reality is so different from what most folks imagine.

Blindness is a spectrum, and tech has changed everything. VoiceOver (and similar tools like TalkBack on Android) lets us browse social media, text, read emails, check the weather, navigate maps, shop online, you name it. The phone speaks to us, we gesture or use commands to interact, and Bluetooth hearing aids or bone-conduction headphones make it seamless and private. No squinting, no magnification needed if you don’t have usable vision. It’s not magic; it’s just smart design from Apple and others that’s been around for years.

Yet the myth persists: “If they’re blind, they can’t use a phone.” Or worse: “They must be faking because they’re looking at the screen.” I’ve seen it online as well, photos of cane users on phones sparking comment wars, people confidently declaring fraud. It hurts because it comes from ignorance, not malice most of the time. And it makes some of us self-conscious about pulling out our devices in public, like we’re doing something wrong.

But we’re not. Scrolling Instagram on a bench with a coffee? That’s just being human. Checking the time, replying to a message from a friend, reading a blog post like this one.  It’s independence, not deception.

To my fellow blind and low-vision folks: Don’t let these encounters dim your day. Keep using your tech proudly. It’s not a contradiction; it’s progress. If someone says something like above, you don’t owe them a full demo, but if you’re in the mood, a quick, calm explanation can plant a seed. Like I did that day: mention VoiceOver, point them to Settings > Accessibility > VoiceOver on their own phone, and watch their perspective shift.

And to the sighted world reading this: Blindness doesn’t look one way. We don’t all wear dark glasses 24/7, although I do a lot of the time, stare blankly ahead, or avoid tech. Many of us have some residual vision, or we use tools that let us engage with the world on our terms. The next time you see someone with a cane on their phone, resist the urge for a “gotcha.” Curiosity is fine.  Ask if you’re genuinely interested. But assumptions? They just make things harder for everyone.

Patience really is key in our world. The sighted world often doesn’t get it, and that’s okay, they haven’t lived it. But we can bridge that gap by educating when we have the energy, supporting each other, and refusing to shrink ourselves to fit outdated stereotypes.

So, I got “busted” Monday. But really? I was just living my life, coffee, cane, bench, and a phone that talks to me. And that’s not faking anything. That’s thriving.

What’s your story? Have you had a similar “gotcha” moment? Drop it in the comments.  I’d love to hear your stories. We’re all in this together.

Stay high-tech, stay patient, and keep tapping those routes.

Jefferson (the high-tech blind dude) 🇺🇲