The Blind Spot
What Began as an AI Exercise Became an Unexpected Reflection on Visibility and Why Being Seen Matters.
AI.
Love it or hate it, it appears to be here to stay.
Over the last year or so, I’ve been exploring it gently through my work with aDoddle.org and TheCommunityPledge.com – partly out of curiosity, partly because I don’t want to get left behind by the changes happening around us and partly because, as someone who is neurodiverse, I’ve discovered it can genuinely help me.
Sometimes that help is practical.
Helping organise thoughts.
Helping shorten the ten sentences in my head into one clearer one.
Helping me keep track of ideas and connections that might otherwise get lost in the noise.
Recently, I started a new six-week AI course designed to help people better understand how AI could support their work and lives.
One of the exercises was to create an AI “clone” based on a series of questions about ourselves, our values, our goals and the way we think.
The next step was to test it.
A series of prompts were designed to see whether the responses genuinely sounded like us – or whether the system had completely missed the mark.
Some were thoughtful.
Some were surprisingly accurate.
One suggested three books for me and it turned out I had already read two of them.
Another recommended films – and again, two were already favourites, with the third now added to my watch list.
There was even a fictional CIA report, which honestly made me laugh out loud.
However one of the prompts stopped me in my tracks.
It was called: “The Blind Spot.”
You Built The Thing You Needed Most
The AI clone was asked to highlight something that may be a ‘Blind Spot’ for me in my life or work. I won’t share all of the response here. Some parts felt too personal. However, there was one section that stayed with me long after I had closed the screen.
It said:
“You were silenced.
You were made invisible.
You were told when to stop and when to speak.
And now – even though you have built something extraordinary – putting yourself forward and saying out loud ‘I need you to invest in this’ feels dangerously close to the vulnerability that was used against you.
So you keep building.
Keep preparing.
Keep getting ready.
Because building feels safe.
Asking does not.”
It hit me hard because I realised something.
Years ago, a manager described the people I was supporting as “no-hopers”.
I never forgot it.
Partly because I knew how damaging those words were.
But partly because, if I am honest, at different points in my own life, that was how I had felt too.
Invisible.
Unimportant.
Like I did not matter.
Like asking for help was dangerous.
Like being seen properly came with consequences.
Maybe that is why connection starts with visibility for me now.
And maybe that is why visibility matters so much to me now.
Not visibility in the social media sense.
Not attention.
But real visibility.
The kind that helps somebody searching late at night realise they are not alone.
The kind that helps people find support before crisis.
The kind that reminds people that help, kindness and community are already out there – if only they can find it.
Looking back now, I think part of the reason aDoddle was created was because I built the thing I needed most at a time when I could not find it myself.
Not just a map.
But a place where people, support, opportunities and communities could become easier to see.
A place where nobody should have to feel invisible.
When People Cannot See Help, They Can Begin To Believe It Is Not There
Over the years, more and more systems have been created to try and help people access support earlier.
- Referral pathways
- Social prescribing
- Community connectors
- Mental health waiting list alternatives
- Directories
- Mapping systems
All created with good intentions.
But many of them still begin at the point where somebody has already reached a service, spoken to a professional or entered a system somewhere.
What about the moment before that?
The moment somebody is sitting at home late at night trying to work out where to turn.
The moment somebody knows they are struggling but cannot yet find the words to explain why.
The moment somebody feels lonely, overwhelmed or lost but does not feel ready to ask for help formally.
That is often where the real gap exists.
Not because support is not out there.
It is.
What stayed with me after reading the Blind Spot response was the idea of invisibility.
How easy it is for people, support and even whole communities to become unseen.
There are thousands of charities, community groups, clubs, organisations and local projects already doing incredible work every single day.
But if people cannot see them, they can begin to believe the support is not there.
Or perhaps that they are not worthy of it.
That is one of the reasons aDoddle was created.
Not to replace existing systems.
Not to compete with referral pathways.
But to help make support, opportunities and connection easier to find before somebody reaches crisis point.
Because there is a big difference between doing things for people and doing things with people.
Many systems are designed to refer somebody into a predefined pathway once they meet certain criteria.
aDoddle was designed differently.
It was designed to help people explore.
To search in their own words.
To discover support, connection and opportunities in ways that feel right for them.
Sometimes that might lead somebody towards formal support.
Sometimes it might simply help them find a local walking group, a warm welcome space, a community activity or somebody else who understands.
And that matters too.
The more charities, community groups and organisations that create profiles and make themselves visible, the more chance there is that somebody searching quietly at midnight might find the thing they need before they reach crisis.
Sometimes visibility is not just about information.
Sometimes visibility is about hope.
Visibility Is More Than Being Seen
The more I reflected on the Blind Spot response, the more I realised that visibility is not really about attention.
It is not about shouting the loudest.
Not about followers.
Not about “look at me”.
Real visibility is something much quieter than that.
It is about connection.
Belonging.
Hope.
Possibility.
Opportunity.
Sometimes visibility is simply knowing there is a place you could go if you needed to.
Sometimes it is seeing that somebody understands.
Sometimes it is realising there are other people out there who feel the same way you do.
Loneliness and isolation do not always look the way people expect them to.
Some people are surrounded by others all day and still feel unseen.
Some people slowly stop going out because anxiety, exhaustion or life itself becomes overwhelming.
Some people spend days at a time without a meaningful conversation.
And sometimes people are not ready to talk yet.
Sometimes they do not quite know how to describe what they are feeling or experiencing because whatever is happening has crept up on them slowly.
Life changes.
Bereavement.
Illness.
Anxiety.
Isolation.
A frightening experience.
Exhaustion.
Loneliness.
Sometimes it is one major event.
Sometimes it is lots of smaller things building quietly over time.
We rarely know the full story of what somebody is carrying.
And no one reason is more or less important than another.
And sometimes people are simply not ready to speak to somebody formally yet.
But they are ready to look.
That matters.
Because even quietly exploring a community map late at night can become a form of connection.
Seeing that a local organisation exists.
Seeing that somebody cares enough to create a warm welcome space, a support group, a community activity or a place where people can simply belong.
That visibility matters.
Not because it solves everything instantly.
But because it reminds people that support, kindness and connection still exist.
For me, that is why the phrase “Connection starts with visibility” matters so much.
Because before somebody can join something, ask for help, volunteer, attend a group or feel part of a community, they first need to know that the opportunity exists.
Visibility creates the possibility of connection.
And connection can change everything.
Maybe That Is Why Visibility Matters So Much
One of the things I have thought about most since doing the Blind Spot exercise is how easy it is for all of us to carry blind spots without realising it.
Sometimes they exist in systems.
Sometimes in communities.
Sometimes in the stories we quietly carry about ourselves.
We can assume support is not there because we cannot see it.
We can assume nobody understands because we have not yet found the right connection.
We can assume people are coping because they are quiet.
We can assume somebody is fine because they have become good at hiding how isolated they feel.
And sometimes we can spend so long adapting, surviving or coping that we stop recognising our own invisibility too.
The Blind Spot response did not suddenly tell me something I did not already know deep down.
What it did do was hold up an unexpected mirror.
And in that reflection, I realised something important.
Maybe part of the reason visibility matters so much to me is because I know what it feels like to feel unseen.
Maybe that is why I care so deeply about helping people find support earlier.
Why I care about community organisations being visible.
Why I care about creating easier ways for people to discover help, connection, opportunities and belonging.
Because connection starts with visibility.
And when people, organisations and communities can see each other more clearly, something powerful happens.
Possibility begins.
Not perfectly.
Not instantly.
But sometimes quietly and life-changingly all the same.
Maybe the things we build are sometimes connected to the things we once needed most.
And maybe that is not weakness.
Maybe that is where some of the most meaningful ideas begin.
A Note on How This Article Was Written
This article has been written and shaped by Jaki King, Founder and CEO of If Everyone Cares CIC – the organisation behind aDoddle.org and TheCommunityPledge.com.
It reflects more than 25 years of experience working in and alongside communities and over a decade of exploring community mapping, visibility and connection.
The content has also been shaped through listening to hundreds of real stories, insights and experiences shared by people, organisations and communities over time.
As part of the process, Jaki used AI as an accessibility and thinking tool to support how she works as someone who is dyslexic, autistic and has ADHD. This included helping her to structure ideas, refine wording and maintain clarity, while ensuring that the final content reflected her voice, her values and what matters in the work she does.
The article has been developed iteratively, going backwards and forwards to ensure it feels true to that.
(Time invested: approximately 5 hours from first draft to final version.)
