Understanding and acceptance in a challenging world | Uyanga Erdenebold | TEDxUlaanbaatarWomen

This talk was given at a local TEDx event, produced independently of the TED Conferences.
Uyanga Erdenebold is a native of Darkhan city, an avid lover of books and dogs and one of the founders of the "Lucky Paws" dog rescue group. She firmly believes that knowledge and compassion are the recipe for a meaningful life.

OK, hello everybody.

I think most of you know
Glades, my guide dog.

She likes to be comfortable,
so I'll just take care of her first.

OK, honey, down. Down.

So, while I speak,
she might scratch herself,

get up or even bark in her sleep,
so, just so you know.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said:

"To be yourself in a world

that's constantly trying
to make you something else

is the greatest accomplishment."

But I'll also say
that it's a great challenge.

I'm, by nature,
not a challenge loving sort of a person.

I'm quite content being one of the crowd,

as long as I'm allowed freedom
for my thought and a way to live my life.

But when I'm judged by my disability,

I no longer have the luxury
of being a by-stander.

I was always fascinated
by books and literature,

and I wanted to become
a librarian or a linguist,

so that I could always be close to them.

But from my experience,
as a blind person,

especially in the past few years,

I came to realize
that the social stigma and ignorance

towards people with disabilities
are too strong and too unjust

for any person to enjoy life
as a simple librarian.

"There are two primary choices in life,"
said Dr. Denis Waitley,

"to accept conditions as they exist,

or to accept the responsibility
of changing them."

When I think about

all the difficulties I face everyday
just trying to live my life,

I truly believe
that for any person with a disability

who wants to lead
a meaningful and fulfilling life

there's none but one choice:

to accept the responsibility
of changing them.

I was diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa
when I was four years old,

and I lost my sight gradually
over the course of last 20 years.

Doctors informed my parents

that I would probably go blind
by the time when I'm 40, or even 50,

that I'd go through college
and school without much trouble.

But as it happened,
they weren't exactly right

and by the time I was eight,
I couldn't read print books,

and I couldn't see
the writings on the blackboard.

And by the time I started college,

I could no longer see myself
in the mirror.

At every turn and step in my life,
I was confronted with one decision:

whether to accept the excuses
made for me and live in easy self pity,

or to brace myself
and walk into the unknown.

I always chose the latter.

I studied at the special school
for the blind in Mongolia

and graduated in 2000.

And at that time,

that was as far as most blind people
went in terms of education.

The accepted norm was

either to go work in a special factory
or go stay at home.

But I didn't want to follow the norm.

I wanted to go to college,
I wanted to have a good job,

and I wanted to make my parents
and my family proud of me.

And this meant that I had
to work twice as strong,

and be twice as hard working
as anybody else.

Up until I was 14,
I was just like any other child.

I didn't know
that I'd eventually go blind,

I thought that I just had
a really bad eyesight.

And the extent of the impact
of my condition on my life was

the occasional name calling
caused by my thick glasses,

or the fact that I read
differently than others.

But when I reached 14, I learned
the true nature of my condition,

and since then life became a race for me.

I couldn't image living a life
without being able to see.

I thought going blind would mean
the end of everything.

And suddenly I realized

why all those years ago, my father
took me to all those museums.

I was eight at the time,

and the museums were
either boring or scared me.

But then I understood

that he obviously wanted me
to have some memory

of the cultural value and history,
about our country.

I remember the sudden feeling of panic

as I realized how much for me

there was to see and learn
and how little time there was.

I started looking for books to read,

I thought books were my only salvation.

I remember sitting in my school dorm room,

and reading and reading without pause
as if my life depended on it.

And within three weeks,
I had read all the braille books

that were available
in Mongolian language at our school.

I worked with the same zealousness
on my other subjects.

I wanted to cram as much knowledge
as I could into my head

so that I could be ready
when blindness came.

I wanted to prepare myself.

Unfortunately, there weren't
much resources at our school

and soon I grew frustrated

by the lack of, well,
pretty much everything.

But I was determined, and the lack
of resources didn't deter me much;

if anything, it just made me look
for other options.

For example, when I realized I'd read
all the books at our school,

I found out that there were
donated English braille books.

So, what did I do?
I set out to learn English.

Of course we didn't have
any English teachers,

or English teaching materials,
or English books,

which naturally didn't deter me.

So after finishing my special school,

I went to study at a regular high school
with normal sighted children.

Because I wanted to go to college,

and in order to go to college, we had
to have 10 years of higher education.

Again, it was a challenge.

Because nobody knew
how to teach a blind student,

or how to handle a blind student.

I remembered being told off
on the first day of school

for disrupting the lesson
by punching holes in my notebook,

which was the process
of taking notes in braille.

But I overcame my fears
and my embarrassments.

I refused to be
the prisoner of my disability.

In 2006, I graduated
from the University of the Humanities.

In 2007, I became
the first blind Mongolian

to receive the Fulbright scholarship.

(Applause)

In 2009, I received my Master's degree

in Library and Information Science
from the Louisiana State University,

and I returned home with
the very first guide dog of Mongolia.

(Laughter)

I've never had a single book
in audio format,

or I've never had enough books in braille

as I was going through
school and college in Mongolia.

I've never had enough
braille paper to take notes

that's why I often had
to memorize as much as I could

and note down only the most important.

And, as difficult as the lack
of materials and resources was,

it was nothing compared to the
social ignorance that I had to deal with.

It was the only thing
that halted me at my track.

I was once asked by a journalist,

what was the most difficult
thing in life for me,

and I said: "It was
not being able to contribute."

Because, I believe

every human feeling and every human skill
finds meaning only when shared.

And I think the biggest human tragedy
is not been allowed to share

what one has to offer
with one's community.

Imagine not being able to contribute

when you're bursting
with knowledge and energy.

Imagine being treated like a small child,
when you are a perfectly capable adult.

Imagine people
not seeing you for who you are

but only seeing your disability.

Lack of understanding and unawareness

is the foundation for any discrimination
and misunderstanding.

And they are far more consequential
than lack of material resources.

Because it's one thing when you go hungry
just because there's no food,

but it's a very different thing
if you go hungry

because people don't see it
as a problem that you don't have food.

Material resources can change
everything alone

because they are just a tool.

Social understanding and acceptance are
the hands that put these tools in motion.

From a personal point of view,
I come a long way.

But from a perspective
of a capable young person,

and a representative
of a socially disadvantaged group,

I have a very long way to go.

From my experience so far,
I've come to understand

that if one wants to see
a meaningful social change,

individual success is not all,
and it's not enough,

but it can be the beginning.

In the past 20 years, I've lost much,
but I've learned a lot.

I've learned that going blind
is not the end of everything,

I've learned that you might
not be able to control

what life might throw at you.

But you have the incredible power
of choosing how to react to it,

and that makes
all the difference in the world.

In the words of Helen Keller:

"When one door closes,
we look at it so regretfully,

we don't notice another one opening."

So, don't just see life, experience it

because life is too rich to be seen only.

So, I hope that you, as open minded,

you know, citizens of this diverse world,

who believe in social justice
and democracy,

will join me in extending
your hand to a disable person

not out of pity but out
of understanding and acceptance.

Thank you.

(Applause)