🌸 White Cane, My Wings of Freedom
By Aqsa Arif | White Cane Safety Day Special
After losing my sight, life suddenly felt like walking in a storm. I remember the frustration of depending on others just to move from one place to another — holding someone’s hand, asking for directions, and feeling like a burden. People never said it directly, but I could feel it in their tone, in their hesitation.
As a child, I always wanted to do things independently. But in my society, using any assistive tool — especially the white cane — is often seen as a sign of “extra disability.” People think it lowers your personality instead of empowering you. They told me I was beautiful without the cane and asked, “What will society think if you walk with it?”
But I reached a point where I decided: no matter how I look, I will walk on my own.
When I joined college, I lived in a hostel far from my home — 400 kilometers away. I saw my blind friends depending on others for every small task. But I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to hold anyone’s sweaty or dirty hand to move around. I wanted independence, even if it came with risks.
I still remember when my Head of Department scolded me for walking alone. They asked, “Why don’t you ask for help like others?”
And I replied, “Because I came here to be independent, not to be a burden.”
That’s when I started using my white cane — my symbol of freedom.
Yes, people stared at me as if I was a walking monument. They wondered how I managed my life. But their stares didn’t matter. I even hiked on the Margalla Hills with my white cane, proving that independence isn’t about sight — it’s about spirit.
There was a day in my college when I fell into a five-foot-deep fountain while using my cane. My foot was injured, my clothes were soaked, and tears rolled down my face — but I still got up and went to my class. That day, I told myself: If I stop here, my journey ends.
It was in that very moment of pain that I realized every fall is part of reaching a greater height.
If I had stopped myself that day, I would have never gone on to earn my degree in Applied English Linguistics from Kinnaird College for Women, a British-affiliated institution that shaped me into who I am today. My injuries didn’t define me — my persistence did.
With that same spirit, I earned my first job in the capital of Pakistan, working on Grade 21, one of the highest government ranks. In a country where even sighted people struggle to reach that level, I stood there — a woman with closed eyes and an open heart, ready to fly.
I’ve also represented my country as a B1 cricket player, showing that women with disabilities are not weak — they’re powerful beyond limits. I believe that if I cannot help myself, no one in the universe can. Independence starts from within.
Sadly, many people who should promote the white cane feel ashamed to use it. But how can the world accept us if we don’t first accept ourselves?
My white cane is not just a tool — it’s my confidence, my safety, my identity, and my wings of freedom.
“Your thoughts are a mirror for the outer world. If you’re not confident, don’t expect the world to accept you. It’s okay to feel down, but never write your life in complaints. Make your own path — even if you fall, fall proudly.”
Every night, when I remember my journey — the pain, the falls, the victories — I realize that my scars are my success.
They remind me who I am:
A woman who didn’t stop.
A woman who walks — not just with a cane, but with courage.
#WhiteCaneSafetyDay #WomenWithVision #AccessibilityMatters #AqsaArif