Lifestyle
My eyes are different sizes and colors. Will I ever find a date who doesn’t flinch?
I’m sitting across from an orthodontist, sipping a lukewarm coffee and gliding through typical first-date banter about L.A. traffic. But as this Hinge experiment with his simp-y Harry Styles hair and $200 sweatpants tries to lock eyes with me, I’m still staring just past his shoulder at a fake eucalyptus plant. I am silently praying this passes for eye contact, because I know what’s coming when my gaze meets his. The flinch.
If this term isn’t in your immediate search history, the flinch is an inverse of the male gaze; a jaw-tightening, ball-shriveling squint usually directed at my face. It is a subtle move that says without question: We are not the same.
Because I’m blind, and he isn’t.
My brain crackles with anxiety. Now I’m thinking about all those nice folks with herpes and how they have medication to help keep everything under wraps for a while. Now, I’m longing to have herpes and a vast collection of Valtrex as I down my drink. I need to order another round. Do it — do it now. Before this man notes with absolute certainty that you do not have anything close to the deep brown eyes he thought he saw in your dating profile, before he excuses himself and that second drink never happens.
Dating, in theory, is fun. Meeting a stranger at a cafe covered in hipsters and Moroccan tile, sitting at a too-small table and pretending to be interested in the Americano-length version of someone else’s life, can be total fire. But if you’re me, dating mostly makes you want to haul it outta there like you were in an episode of “The Last of Us.”
Ayla Harrison developed the eye condition retinopathy of prematurity as a newborn.
My face is unfortunate. It is lopsided. My eyes are different sizes and colors. My right eye is lazy, shriveled and blind; it moves like an out-of-control marble circling a drain. My left eye suffers hemorrhages that can cause episodes of total blindness. The reason for my Picasso of a face is because of a retinal disease I snag after my mother goes into labor three months early. She looks that Medicaid doctor right in his very symmetrical face and says through grunts and gritted teeth: “My girl doesn’t like to wait.”
Doctors move me to an ICU and crank my oxygen levels to 100% to keep me stable. Later, a nurse with nicotine stains on her fingernails, tells my parents I have developed retinopathy of prematurity, an eye condition caused by all that one-hundo oxygen. The disease will open me up to a revolving door of vision issues for life.
Then there is rushing. More doctors. A surgeon barely salvages the sight in my left eye, but my right eye can’t be saved. They tell my parents I’ll be blind in that eye forever. A teeny tiny Cyclops. I weigh less than a pound. I am so small the surgeon can place my entire hand on his pinkie nail.
And for a moment, everyone is staring.
The first boy I love has a rat-tail. We’re both 8 years old. To win his affection, on a dare, I decide to eat a cockroach off the ground during recess. Kids point and lose their collective 8-year-old mind, but the attention makes me feel electric. Then he makes direct eye contact with me. I look down; my performance upended in an instant. He’s staring at me like someone asked him to find Waldo and he stops on my mismatched marble-y eyes. The baby fat in his jaw tightens. Then it happens. My first flinch.
I stop going to recess.
At dinner, I mention my eye contact problem to my mother. She nurses her third rum and Diet Coke and says: “Look boys in the eye like you want to steal their wallet.”
By the time I reach high school, I can’t address another person unless my eyes are glued to the floor.
In the teenage dating hierarchy, I am a hard pass. Boys in artfully shredded Abercrombie jeans flinch in a chain reaction of disgust as I pass them in the halls. Cheerleaders corner me and demand to know what is wrong with my eyes. The cheer captain shoves me into a locker. I latch onto her perfect French braids and pull down hard until my knuckles go white. Somewhere JV cheerleaders chant “Fight!” like it is a pep rally.
Harrison in a preschool photo.
(Ayla Harrison)
And for a moment, everyone is staring.
I walk home alone with a busted lip and decide teenagers in my small Southern town are just wolves in Adidas track pants.
Years happen. I leave my swampy hometown. Before I go, my childhood eye doctor warns me that I have the eyes of an 80-year-old. I ignore him because I am 22.
I avoid discussing my ROP with anyone, and instead, I diligently plaster my bangs to my forehead to hide my blind eye. It’s a trick I learn working as a waitress at a neon-tinged strip club in some blink-of-an-eye Florida town that pushes all-you-can-eat oysters and lap dances until 3 a.m. I mimic the dance moves of the strippers. Just like the girls swaying onstage in G-strings, I want to feel that burn-a-hole-in-your-pocket desire from men. A dancer, this oiled-up pole ballerina, tells me about a weekend trip she took to L.A. “Life there is like a buzzsaw knocked up a glitter bomb,” she says.
A month later, I move to Santa Monica. I slide into the rip current of L.A. men and let myself fall in love in the time it takes to change a channel. But the relationships either fade or split open like cantaloupe dropped on hot pavement. And then, on one random Wednesday, my left eye hemorrhages and fills with blood. And suddenly, I cannot see.
Again, more doctors — specialists this time. Their offices are in tall towers. And like in many niche areas of medicine, there are silence and bright lights and a lot of nodding. There are lasers and emergency surgeries. Eventually I can see again, but not without a lot of help from a perpetual weekly doctor appointment. I make friends with the 89-year-old nana-and-pop-pop set in the lobby. I am there so often my mother asks if this ophthalmologist gives out a rewards card like at Yogurtland.
My eyes bleed while I’m in the shower and during yoga. My sight snaps off like a light while I’m at the supermarket. My episodes of blindness go on for months — and still — my mother asks: “When are you going to meet someone? And can you send artisanal doughnuts through the mail?”
This only reminds me of what’s coming: the flinch.
I need a new plan. Or a therapist. Instead, I call my ophthalmologist, a woman I’ve seen so many times I probably fund a fraction of her vacation house.
In the exam room, my ophthalmologist decides to fit me with therapeutic contact lenses. She explains these fancy lenses will protect my diseased eye and — bonus — they will make my eyes appear to be the same color. She finishes her adjustments, offers me a mirror like I’m in a Marvel movie, and waits for applause. I study my blind eye, tucked in its new costume, and opt for a late-night Google question instead: What if I got another procedure done on my eyes?
I suggest more surgeries — cutting-edge surgeries to fix my bad eye and its marble-y wobbling. My doctor pops a trained, reassuring smile and fires off a lecture on the dangers of continuing to rip open my eyes on the regular. The only thing all of those surgeries will do is make my condition worse, she tells me.
Two weeks later, in a different medical tower, I’m meeting with my retinal specialist this time. I hit him with my question about correcting my mismatched eyes. The response is identical — a list of horrors. He pauses to add, “But you are a single woman now. So maybe think about it,” and moves to a new patient without another word.
Tears hit me in a wet burst as my doctor shouts to an 82-year-old in the next room: “How are you doing today?” The door closes behind him.
Harrison crosses 4th Street in Long Beach. She went on a date at a nearby Peruvian restaurant with a man who surprised her.
I call my mother between sobs. I manage to say, “I can’t wear this lens.” I stammer on about how the lens is just a fancy bandage; a device to hide the fact that my vision loss is a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off. And who’s going to love that? My mom patiently waits out my sobs. Finally she says, “What sight you have left could go before I finish this sentence, but no one needs to be OK with that except you.”
Then she asks me if I’ve seen Reese Witherspoon do that one dance on TikTok yet.
Weeks later, I go on a date with a man. I sit across from him at a too-small table at a Peruvian restaurant on 4th Street in Long Beach. His voice is a mix of Spanish slang and a SoCal surfer lilt. And I swear he never drops eye contact. Normally this would wreck me. But with my new lens, I feel an odd new confidence. So, I commit first-date seppuku and tell him about my lens and my vision loss. As I talk, my anxiety hijacks my thoughts, and I immediately regret opening my mouth. Because I’m waiting for the flinch — for that lightning-fast jolt of expected pain. And then I realize I am too busy future spiraling to notice that my date is ordering a second round of drinks.
I am too busy to notice that our date is still going.
It goes until ice melts into the dark amber whiskey in our sweaty cocktail glasses. It goes until it is the soft yellow of morning sunlight. It goes until he holds my hand on a crowded street, and I know it’s my turn to look him in the eye. At a crosswalk, I turn my head and stare at this man.
And for a solid three seconds, I have an overwhelming urge to steal his wallet. I smile. Somewhere, my mother is right.
Then he asks, “Can I kiss you?” I nod. He leans in and kisses me right on my diseased little eyes, right in the middle of that crowded street.
And for a moment, everyone is staring.
The author is a playwright and screenwriter based in L.A. She’s on Instagram: @outinthestacks
Delroy Lindo is nominated for an Oscar for best supporting actor for his role in Sinners.
Rebecca Cabage/Invision/AP
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Rebecca Cabage/Invision/AP
Over the course of his decades-long career on stage and in Hollywood, Sinners actor Delroy Lindo has experienced firsthand what he calls the “disappointments, the vicissitudes of the industry.”
On Feb. 22, at the BAFTA awards in London, Lindo and Sinners co-star Michael B. Jordan were the first presenters of the evening when a man with Tourette syndrome shouted a racial slur.
Initially, Lindo says, he questioned if he had heard correctly. Then, he says, he adjusted his glasses and read the teleprompter: “I processed in the way that I process, in a nanosecond. Mike did similarly, and we went on and did our jobs.”
Lindo describes the BAFTA incident as “something that started out negatively becoming a positive.” A week after the BAFTAs, he appeared with Sinners director Ryan Coogler at the NAACP awards.
“The fact that I could stand there in a room predominantly of our people … and feel safe, feel loved, feel supported,” he says. “I just wanted to officially, formally say thank you to our people and to all of the people who have supported us as a result of that event, that incident.”
Sinners is a haunting vampire thriller about twins (both played by Jordan) who open a juke joint in 1930s Mississippi. The film has been nominated for a record 16 Academy Awards, including best actor for Jordan and best supporting actor for Lindo, who plays a blues musician named Delta Slim.
This is Lindo’s first Oscar nomination; five years ago, many felt his performance in the Spike Lee film Da 5 Bloods deserved recognition from the Academy. When that didn’t happen, Lindo admits he was disappointed, but he had no choice but to move on.
“I have never taken my marbles and gone home,” he says. “And I want to claim that I will not do that now. I will continue working.”
Interview highlights
On his preparation to play Delta Slim
Various people have mentioned … [that] my presence reminds them of an uncle or their grandfather, somebody that they knew from their families, and that is a huge compliment, but more importantly than being a compliment, it’s an affirmation for the work. My preparation for this started with Ryan sending me two books, Blues People, by Amiri Baraka — who was [known as] LeRoi Jones when he wrote the book — and Deep Blues, by Robert Palmer.
Lindo, shown above in his role as Delta Slim, says director Ryan Coogler “created a sacred space for all of us” on the Sinners set.
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In reading those books and then referencing those books, continuing to reference those throughout production, I was given an entrée into the worlds, the lifestyles of these musicians. There’s a certain kind of itinerant quality that they moved around a lot. The constant for them is their music, so that there is this deep-seated connection to the music.
On being Oscar-nominated for the first time — and thinking about other Black actors, including Halle Berry and Lou Gossett Jr., who had trouble getting work after their wins
I will not view it as a curse, because I am claiming the victory in this process, no matter what happens. … In terms of this moment, I absolutely am claiming, as much as I can, the joy of this moment. I’m not saying I don’t have trepidation, I do. It’s the reason I was not listening to the broadcast this year when the nominations were announced. I did not want to set myself up. But I’m … attempting as much as I can to fortify myself and know in my heart that I will continue working as an actor. I absolutely will.
On being “othered” as a child because of his race
Because my mom was studying to be a nurse they would not allow her to have an infant child with her on campus, so as a result of that, I was sent to live with a white family in a white working class area of London. … I was loved, I was cared for, but as a result of living with this family in this all-white neighborhood, I went to an all-white elementary or primary school. And I was literally the only Black child in an all-white school.
So one afternoon, after school had ended, I was playing with one of my playmates … And at a certain point in our game, a car pulls up, and this kid that I was playing with goes over to the car and has a very short conversation with whomever was in the car, which I now know was his parent, his father. He comes back and he … says, “I can’t play with you.” And that was the end of the game.
On the experience of writing his forthcoming memoir
It’s been healing, actually. I’m not denying that it has opened me up. I’ve been compelled to scrutinize myself. I’m using that word very advisedly, “scrutinized.” It’s a scrutiny, it’s an examination of oneself. But in my case, because a very, very, very significant part of what I’m writing has to do with re-examining my relationship with my mom. And so my mom is a protagonist in my memoir. I’m told by my editor and by my publisher that one of the attractions to what I’m writing is that it is not a classic “celebrity memoir.” I am examining history. I’m examining culture. I’m looking at certain passages of history through the lens of the “Windrush” experience [of Caribbean immigrants who came to the UK after World War II].
On getting a masters degree to help him write his mother’s story
My mom deserved it. My mom is deserving. And not only is my mom deserving, by extension, all the people of the Windrush generation are deserving. Stories about Windrush are not part of the global cultural lexicon commensurate with its impact. The people of Windrush changed the definition of what it means to be British. There are all these Black and brown people, theretofore members of what used to be called the British Commonwealth. And they were invited by the British government to come to England, the United Kingdom, to help rebuild the United Kingdom in the aftermath of the destruction of World War II. My mom was part of that movement. They helped rebuild construction, construction industry, transportation industry, critically, the health industry, the NHS, the National Health Service. My mom is a nurse.
The reason that I went into NYU was because my original intention was to write a screenplay about my mom. I wanted to write a screenplay about my mom because I looked around and I thought: Where are the feature films that have as protagonist a Caribbean female, a Black female, where are they? … I wanted to address that, I wanted to correct that, what I see as being an imbalance.
Ann Marie Baldonado and Susan Nyakundi produced and edited this interview for broadcast. Bridget Bentz, Molly Seavy-Nesper and Beth Novey adapted it for the web.
Britney Spears
Open to Treatment Plan After DUI Arrest, Source Says
Published
Britney Spears‘ team is hoping the judge mandates treatment for the pop star over jail time following her Wednesday DUI arrest … and Britney isn’t fighting them on that, TMZ has learned.
Sources familiar with the situation tell TMZ … Britney is willing to comply with a treatment and support plan.
We’re told her team is in the early stages of developing a plan and they’re exploring multiple options, including mental health services, detox, and dual-diagnosis programs.
It’s unclear whether she would do inpatient or outpatient treatment, and it’s also unclear whether she would enter treatment before her May 4 court date.
Broadcastify.com
We broke the story … Britney was pulled over by California Highway Patrol officers around 9:30 PM Wednesday in Westlake Village, CA, not far from her home. She was later taken to a hospital — not for any injuries, because we’re told she didn’t sustain any — but to draw her blood to determine her blood alcohol content.
According to CHP, she was arrested for “driving under the influence of a combination of drugs and alcohol.”
Sources familiar with the investigation told us an unknown substance was found in Britney’s car, which was sent to be tested.
Britney’s manager, Cade Hudson, previously told TMZ … “This was an unfortunate and inexcusable incident. Britney will take the right steps, comply with the law, and we hope this marks the start of long-overdue change in her life. She needs help and support during this difficult time. Her boys will be spending time with her, and her loved ones are putting a plan in place to set her up for success and well-being.”
Michael B. Jordan plays twin brothers Smoke and Stack in Sinners.
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Warner Bros. Pictures
Ryan Coogler’s supernatural horror stars Michael B. Jordan playing twin brothers who open a 1930s juke joint in Mississippi. Opening night does not go as planned when vampires appear outside. “In a straightforward metaphor for all the ways Black culture has been co-opted by whiteness, the raucous pleasures and sonic beauty of the juke joint attract the interest of a trio of demons … they wish to literally leech off of the talents and energy of Black folks,” writes critic Aisha Harris. The film made history with a record 16 Academy Award nominations.
We asked our NPR audience: What movie would you recommend to someone who loved Sinners? Here’s what you told us:
Near Dark (1987)
Directed by Kathryn Bigelow; starring Adrian Pasdar, Jenny Wright, Lance Henriksen
If you want another cool vampire movie with Western kind of vibes, check out Kathryn Bigelow’s Near Dark — super underseen and kind of hard to find, but really gritty and sexy and another very different take on what you might think is a genre that had been wrung dry. – Maggie Grossman, Chicago, Ill.
30 Days of Night (2007)
Directed by David Slade; starring Josh Hartnett, Melissa George, Danny Huston
It follows a group of people in a small Alaskan town as they struggle to survive an invasion of vampires who have taken advantage of the month-long absence of the sun. Both this and Sinners revolve around a vampire takeover and the people’s fight to outlast the “night.” – Nathan Strzelewicz, DeWitt, Mich.
The Wailing (2016)
Directed by Na Hong-jin; starring Kwak Do-won, Hwang Jung-min, Chun Woo-hee, Jun Kunimura
In this South Korean supernatural horror film, a mysterious illness causes people in a quiet rural village to become violent and murderous. A local police officer investigates while trying to save his daughter, who begins showing the same disturbing symptoms. The film blends folk horror, religion, and psychological dread, exploring themes of faith, evil, and moral weakness. Like Sinners, it centers on a supernatural force corrupting a close-knit community, builds slow-burning tension, and examines spiritual conflict and human frailty. – Amy Merke, Bronx, N.Y.
Fréwaka (2024)
Directed by Aislinn Clarke; starring Bríd Ní Neachtain, Clare Monnelly, Aleksandra Bystrzhitskaya
In this Irish folk horror film, a home care worker, Shoo, is assigned to stay with an elderly woman who’s convinced she’s under siege by malevolent fairies. Like Sinners, Fréwaka blends folk traditions and social commentary with horror. The social failures Shoo copes with (untreated mental health issues, religious abuse) are just as frightening as the supernatural forces. – Kerrin Smith, Baltimore, Md.
And a bonus pick from our critic:
Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (2020)
Directed by George C. Wolfe; starring Viola Davis, Chadwick Boseman, Glynn Turman
This is an adaptation of August Wilson’s play about a legendary blues singer (Viola Davis) muscling through a recording session with white producers who want to control her music. Chadwick Boseman’s blistering in his final role. – Bob Mondello, NPR movie critic
Carly Rubin and Ivy Buck contributed to this project. It was edited by Clare Lombardo.
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