2 minute read
New Vision
Losing his sight spurred Langford Cunningham to use his voice for good on his podcast Blind City
Written by MONICA OBRADOVIC
Langford Cunningham had to go blind to see.
Which doesn’t really make sense. But before, Cunningham lived a “vicious and violent” lifestyle of drinking and partying in St. Louis nightclubs while ignoring symptoms of glaucoma. Only when he lost his vision, Cunningham says, did he truly start to see. He was here for a reason, and he could use what he had left — his voice — to bring light to issues in his community.
This was four years ago. Now, Cunningham hosts a podcast called Blind City where he amplifies marginalized voices. His podcast has featured guests talking on a wide variety of topics relevant to St. Louis, from culture and music to politics and human trafficking. All subjects, no matter how tough the topic, are engaged with Cunningham’s patient, empathetic interviewing.
Last week, Cunningham took his podcast from the airwaves to real life at Harris-Stowe University. His event, Black Girls Missing, focused on human trafficking and victims throughout the area. A panel of speakers highlighted the issue throughout the two-hour event.
“I need to get more attention to this, to put more of a light on minority girls disappearing,” Cunningham says. “Sometimes, society writes them off as being from dysfunctional families or runaways.”
Cunningham first caught wind of the issue as a deputy juvenile officer at the St. Louis County Juvenile Detention Center. He says one girl told him about her aunt that had gone missing. He heard similar stories from other girls, too — most from Berkeley in north St. Louis County.
He took his concerns to the Berkeley police chief, who Cunningham says didn’t give him any answers. But soon after, Cunningham’s vision started to deteriorate, and he couldn’t pursue the issue further.
Thirty-one surgeries failed to bring Cunningham’s vision back. Ghen he lost his job at the Juvenile Detention Center and attempted suicide, he says.
Though he lived “a double life,” he loved mentoring kids at the Juvenile Center. “It was what I loved, it was my passion,” Cunningham says. As a blind man, however, he could no longer hold his position there.
If it wasn’t for his then-newborn daughter, whom he could see for just the first five months of her life, Cunningham may not have made it to find his new vocation.
Years later, the Blind City podcast has gradually picked up steam. He’s been a guest on the actor Michael Colyar’s show, as well as appearing on the Disney affiliate ESPN Radio (100.1) in St. Louis.
Cunningham holds that the St. Louis community as a whole is, in a way, blind — blinded by racism, blinded by crime, by poverty. He wants everyone to receive the same clarity he has.
“God’s using me in another way to affect change in my community,” Cunningham says.
Nearly every episode of Blind City starts with a montage of sound bites, including one of Cunningham’s most prominent catchphrases: “We are the therapy for the streets.”
One has about the same chance of therapizing the streets as a blind man seeing again.
But if Cunningham’s story is a testament to anything, it’s that there’s hope for anyone.