[Charlotte-Mecklenburg-Chapter] A Handful of Blind Little Boys and Girls from Tennessee Just Beat the Speaker of the House by James Brown Article from Braille Monitor Articles Section 2025 06 01

[bridgettericks1 at gmail.com]

Thank you so much Sherry for sending this to me very informative great information! Hope you had a great Father's Day and are doing well I'm going to check on the next meeting and try to get there it's harder now that it's uptown at the time that it is because everybody is already at their destinations and it's hard to get a ride but keep me in prayer. Take care God bless Bridgette

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> On Jun 15, 2025, at 10:26 PM, gerald moreno via Charlotte-Mecklenburg-Chapter <charlotte-mecklenburg-chapter at nfbnet.org> wrote:
> 
> A Handful of Blind Little Boys and Girls from Tennessee Just Beat the Speaker of the House by James Brown From the Editor: James Brown is president of the National Federation of the Blind of Tennessee. He is also known to Federationists for his composition and recording of some of our newer movement songs, including "Live the Life You Want. His day job is as a Transportation Program Supervisor with the Tennessee Department of Transportation. As you will read in this article, advocacy gives him great joy, even or perhaps especially when the stakes are high, and he writes about it with wit and verve. All too often, members of the public, including legislators, view blind people as powerless children to be patronized or, worse, ignored. But we are not children and we are not powerless, as James and his Tennessee Federation family recently demonstrated. Here is how James tells the story: The Spark I still remember the first time I felt the spark-that electric sense that maybe, just maybe, we really could change things. It was 2009, and I had just landed in Washington, DC, to attend my very first Washington Seminar with the National Federation of the Blind. There were only three of us from Tennessee that year. We were small in number and passionate. In fact, I was so green, I didn't know the difference between a House resolution and a Krispy Kreme doughnut. Thankfully, I was paired with Joe Shaw, a seasoned legislative advocate and a blind vendor with a sharp wit and a deep knowledge of the Hill. Within the first hour of our legislative meetings, a legislative aide leaned across the table and asked, "Are you two professional lobbyists? I couldn't believe it. I was a total rookie, and here someone thought we were pros. Joe just laughed and said, "Well, we do know our way around the issues. Not bad for day one. That year, we were promoting the Pedestrian Safety Enhancement Act-a piece of legislation to make sure hybrid and electric vehicles made enough sound so blind pedestrians like me didn't end up playing real-life Frogger just trying to cross the street. The bill passed less than two years later, and I was hooked. Since then, the National Federation of the Blind of Tennessee has worked on state legislation to protect the rights of blind parents, ensuring our kids don't get taken away just because we have a disability. We've helped pass a law requiring Tennessee's higher education system to follow accessibility standards for digital content. We abolished subminimum wages for workers with disabilities. We even got legislation passed to make prescription labels accessible to blind and low-vision people. Most of our work has been about building something-creating opportunity, removing barriers, opening doors. But every now and then, a bill comes along that doesn't just block the door-it threatens to bulldoze the whole building. And when that happens, you don't push forward. You dig in. That moment came in April of 2025, when a poison-pill amendment to eliminate Tennessee's little-Randolph-Sheppard Act was proposed sixteen hours before the bill and amendment were about to be heard on the floor of the Tennessee House of Representatives. Like the federal Randolph-Sheppard Act, little-Randolph-Sheppard Acts in states across our nation provide opportunities for blind people to operate small businesses in state buildings. The amendment would have erased around 300 jobs, many of them held by our blind brothers and sisters. Blind but Not Backing Down Once we, in a frenzy, got the bill rolled for a one-week delay, we hit the ground running-and we didn't stop. Within hours, Terry Smith from the National Association of Blind Merchants, a division of the National Federation of the Blind, was drafting fact sheets and press releases. I was fielding calls from vendors, lawmakers, and Federation members across the state. The Tennessee Committee of Blind Vendors also jumped in with both feet, and a statewide strategy started to take shape. We heard from the political grapevine that the bill originally came from the Tennessee Speaker of the House. The clock was ticking, and legislators would be leaving town for the weekend before Easter, and by the time Monday morning rolled around, we'd only have three real working days left to shift votes, secure media coverage, and apply pressure. There was no time to waste. Funny how life circles back sometimes. Joe Shaw-from back in 2009-was now right back in the trenches with me. Only this time, it was our own backyard. Joe and his wife Karen started early Monday morning, visiting all ninety-nine members of the Tennessee House of Representatives. They handed out fact sheets, scheduled meetings, and personally told our story-one lawmaker and staffer at a time. While they canvassed the Capitol, we launched our media blitz. By Sunday night, we'd let the proverbial cat out of the bag. Press releases went out to every major outlet in Tennessee. And by Monday afternoon, our first TV story hit the airwaves in Nashville, spotlighting the work of blind vendors across the state and the devastating impact this bill would have. Then came Memphis. Then Chattanooga. Then Knoxville. Like dominos, one media market after another picked up the story. Within just a few days, we were in every major market in Tennessee. Inside the Capitol, we stuck to a simple but powerful message. We told lawmakers we loved the Senate version of the bill, which improved customer service and expanded opportunities for all people with disabilities. But the House amendment? That was a poison pill. It didn't expand opportunity-it wiped it out. Of the roughly ninety blind vendors in Tennessee, eighty would lose their jobs. That's not policy. That's carnage. And it wasn't just jobs. These vendors had invested their savings, taken out loans, bought equipment, and built small businesses from the ground up. One vendor in West Tennessee told me he had three box trucks tied to his business. If this bill passed, he'd likely lose it all-his trucks, his business, maybe even his house. He said he might have to go on Social Security and move in with family. That's not theoretical. That's real life. By Tuesday night, we had already secured half of the twenty-six Republican votes we needed to kill the amendment. And the pressure was starting to mount. The Media Turns Up the Heat By Wednesday, April 16, the media machine was in full swing-and it was doing exactly what we needed it to do. The pressure was no longer just coming from inside the Capitol; it was coming from living rooms, smartphones, and kitchen tables across Tennessee. Fox 13 Memphis had been digging into the story and, in their hunt for a quote, they reached out to the sponsor of the House bill-the very one who'd introduced the toxic amendment. But instead of reaching him, they accidentally got his wife. And let's just say, she wasn't thrilled about how her husband's legislative season was going. The reporter told us later that the representative might be sleeping on the couch for a while. Now, I don't know what kind of sofa he's got at home, but I hope it's comfy, because the media wasn't done yet. His wife ended up giving the reporter his cell phone number, and to his credit, the representative agreed to an interview. He tried to frame the amendment as a way to "expand opportunities" for people with disabilities-but while he was talking, the news station flashed the actual amendment text across the screen, highlighting the part where blind vendors would be forced to compete with giant corporations. Not exactly the best look. This aired Tuesday night, just two days before the bill was scheduled for a vote. At the same time, our team of advocates was still pounding the pavement inside the Capitol. Joe, Karen, members of the blind vendor committee, and Randolph-Sheppard walking encyclopedia Terry Smith were running from office to office, meeting with legislators, dropping off packets, answering questions, and clarifying what this amendment would really do. By Wednesday afternoon, we started hearing from legislative aides that their representatives were texting them from the House floor: "I've decided. I'm voting no if that amendment stays in. Others said, "I'm hearing it's going to be pulled. It was like watching a wave build-not a tidal wave of destruction, but one of momentum, of clarity, of people standing up and doing the right thing. Still, we couldn't relax. Politics can be a game of misdirection. Until it was official, we had to assume the amendment was still alive and kicking. Victory in the Eleventh Hour Thursday morning, April 17, arrived like the final lap of the New York City Marathon: hearts racing, shoes worn down, and adrenaline doing all the work. We'd done everything we could. We had flooded inboxes, knocked on doors, given interviews, and practically worn tracks in the carpet of the Capitol. But there was still that flicker of doubt. Was it enough? The bill was scheduled to be heard that morning. We gathered in person on the floor of the House and around our cell phones, our ears tuned to every word coming over the live feed. And then, just like that, it happened. The representative stood up and pulled the amendment. No debate. No vote. Just… gone. And if that wasn't enough, he followed it up with what may go down in history as the most awkward half-apology in Tennessee legislative history. He said something along the lines of, "This amendment probably wasn't my best idea. Now, look-I don't know what prompted his change of heart. Maybe it was the outcry from blind vendors across the state. Maybe it was the press coverage. Maybe it was the overwhelming number of representatives who said they wouldn't support the amendment. Or maybe… just maybe… it was the fact that his wife gave his number to a reporter and told him he'd better fix it before Easter weekend. Whatever the reason, we had done it. We stopped a bill that would've devastated an entire community of blind entrepreneurs in Tennessee. We stared down one of the most powerful figures in state government and came out on top. And we did it with facts, with unity, with persistence-and yeah, with a little humor too. By Thursday afternoon, we were breathing for the first time all week. Not celebrating exactly-because there's always another fight around the corner-but smiling. Laughing. Maybe even letting ourselves feel proud. It wasn't just a policy win. It was proof that advocacy works, that blind people have power, and that a handful of blind little boys and girls from Tennessee can still beat the Speaker of the House. What This Win Really Means This wasn't just about vending. It wasn't just about a single amendment, or one bad bill, or one week of frantic advocacy. This was about reminding ourselves-and reminding the people in power-that blind people are not invisible, we are not silent, and we are not weak. We are business owners, advocates, parents, professionals, problem-solvers, and, when necessary, political warriors. We know how to organize. We know how to mobilize. And when someone threatens our livelihoods, our dignity, or our future, we show up. We show up with facts. We show up with courage. We show up with unity. And yes-we show up with press releases, TV spots, and the occasional well-timed joke about sleeping on the couch. If you're a Federation member reading this, wondering if your voice matters-let me assure you, it does. If you've ever questioned whether one letter, one phone call, or one office visit can make a difference, let this be your proof. If you've ever been discouraged by the political climate or worn down by how long change takes, take heart. Because in one week, against long odds, a small team of determined blind advocates in Tennessee protected the rights of eighty blind entrepreneurs and pushed back against the Speaker of the House himself. I hope this story makes you laugh. I hope it makes you think. But most of all, I hope it reminds you that we still have power. The world doesn't hand us victories-we go out and win them with a smile on our face and a white cane in our hand, or in my case, a solid Black German Shepherd named Zero by my side. Because that's who we are. We are the National Federation of the Blind. And we will never stop fighting for each other. Media Share Share on Facebook Share on X Share via Email . 
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