“I Am Not Just Blind”: Shai and Sarit’s Journey of Visibility, Leadership, and Change
When Dialogue in the Dark first opened its doors in a modest, temporary space in Holon in 2010, few believed the concept would endure. A pitch-black exhibition where blind and visually impaired guides lead sighted visitors through everyday scenarios—completely in the dark—seemed risky. But for Shai and Sarit, who have been part of the initiative since day one, it wasn’t a gamble. It was a calling.
More than 1,000,000 visitors later, the exhibition has become a permanent and powerful force in Israeli society—transforming hearts, minds, and perceptions about blindness. And at the heart of it are Shai and Sarit Avidar: both blind, both leaders, both parents of two sighted daughters, and both deeply committed to reshaping how the world sees people with visual impairments.
A Decade of Change
Back when the exhibition launched, Shai still had some vision. But over time, it deteriorated completely. What remained, however, was his vision for a better, more inclusive world. Today, he and Sarit co-manage Dialogue in the Dark, now housed in a state-of-the-art facility.
“The exhibition’s success and the number of people it has reached made it clear: this was no temporary idea,” says Shai. “It changed public perception of the blind in ways we never imagined.”
Sarit adds, “People come to us knowing they’re about to have a different kind of experience. They walk out with a new understanding of what it means to live without sight—and what it means to see someone fully, beyond their disability.”
“I Am Shai, and I Am Blind—But That’s Not All I Am”
Now in his mid-fifties, Shai is candid about what bothers him most: the tendency of others to reduce him to his blindness.
“I am Shai, and I am blind—but I am not just blind,” he insists. “We are people first. We have dreams, fears, disappointments—just like anyone else. Blindness changes how we navigate the world, but it is not our headline.”
Born in Bat Yam, Shai had no vision issues as a child. He served in the Israeli Border Police, but near the end of his service, he noticed spots clouding his vision. A degenerative disease was diagnosed—one that would ultimately leave him blind. By age 25, his sight was in significant decline.
“It was a long, complex process,” he recalls. “You lose the ability to read, recognize faces, even perceive space. That last part—spatial awareness—is the hardest. It feels like losing sight all over again.”
Still, Shai pressed forward. He earned a degree in education and a certificate in group leadership. He learned to rely on memory, imagination, and adaptive tools. Eventually, he joined Dialogue in the Dark, where he found a way to transform personal challenge into societal impact.
Rediscovering Independence—with a Guide Dog
But in 2014, Shai’s world shrank. Without full spatial perception, he became increasingly reliant on his wife, Sarit, for daily mobility. Even small tasks—like picking up the girls from kindergarten—became overwhelming.
“I realized I was trapped between home and work,” he says. “I wasn’t going anywhere else. I felt lost without Sarit.”
That’s when he decided to get a guide dog.
“It was the smartest thing I’ve done,” he says. “Suddenly, I was walking down the street by myself again. I wasn’t dependent. I could get to the school on my own. My independence was restored.”
Still, the decision hadn’t come easily.
“I didn’t understand just how much a guide dog could serve me,” he admits. “I was hesitant—it’s a big process. The dog learns you, you learn the dog. It’s a bond. At first, I didn’t want to go there.”
Was it fear? Maybe. Maybe, he says, it was also the reluctance to fully embrace the identity of blindness.
“I adapted to being limited, but I didn’t think about how to ease that limitation,” he reflects. “Losing your independence is one process. Regaining it—it’s another.”
Sarit’s Story: Strength in Sight—and Beyond
Sarit, now in her late forties, was born in Rishon Lezion with severe myopia. Glasses never helped, and though her condition is stable, it qualifies her as legally blind.
Diagnosed as gifted early on, her parents’ divorce at age 9 sent her on a path of rebellion—and resilience. “Once the framework disappeared, I fought to maintain my independence,” she shares.
Today, she channels that same spirit into her work at Dialogue in the Dark, where she helps visitors understand a crucial truth: blindness is not a barrier to meaning, leadership, or love.
Together, she and Shai lead a life that defies limitations. They’re raising daughters, managing a major educational institution, and advocating for inclusion across Israeli society.
“Let Me In—with My Eyes”
Despite their impact, challenges remain—especially when it comes to access. Shai, for example, often avoids synagogues altogether. Not because he doesn’t want to pray—but because his guide dog isn’t welcome.
“I’ve been physically blocked from entering,” he says. “People stand in the doorway and tell me I can’t come in with my dog.”
While Jewish law permits guide dogs in synagogues, the public perception lags behind. “The rabbis are clear: my guide dog is not just allowed—he is my eyes,” Shai explains. “But it’s the community that resists.”
In collaboration with Tzohar, a modern Orthodox rabbinical organization, Shai launched a campaign to raise awareness about this issue.
“A synagogue is not private. It’s a public space, and I have the same right to enter as anyone else,” he says. “I served in the IDF. I pay taxes. I’m a citizen with equal rights. I should be able to pray without nonsense or humiliation.”
He’s quick to clarify: “I’m not looking to provoke. I just want to belong—to take part in communal life. My dog is part of my body. He’s not separate from me.”
A Vision for the Future
Shai and Sarit’s story isn’t just one of resilience—it’s one of leadership, advocacy, and change. Through Dialogue in the Dark, they’ve opened the eyes of hundreds of thousands. And through their personal journey, they’ve shown what it means to live with dignity, strength, and purpose.
Their message is simple, but profound: “We are people first. Let us live, love, work—and pray—without barriers.”
Adapted from Hebrew, originally published in Ynet, April 2016. Translated and updated for Canadian Friends of the Israel Guide Dog Center.
Shai was recently paired with a new guide dog, Misty, which was supported by the Canadian Friends of the Israel Guide Dog Center.