From Vision Loss to Visionary Leadership

The story of Dr. Matthew Sherwood and the founding of Robots for the Blind

Dr. Matthew Sherwood, Ph.D. | Founder & Chair

The Moment Everything Changed

In 2008, Dr. Matthew Sherwood was 24 years old and four months away from becoming a father. He was also going blind.

Diagnosed with Bests Disease—a hereditary condition inherited from his grandfather—Matthew's vision deterioration accelerated far beyond the disease's typical progression. Years of playing Division I football at Liberty University had resulted in multiple concussions, compounding the genetic condition and hastening the loss of his eyesight.

Within months of his diagnosis, Matthew lost his vision entirely. His oldest child would be born into a world where Dad couldn't see her face.

Matthew faced a choice: accept limitation, or redefine what was possible.

A Commitment to Community

From the moment blindness entered his life, Matthew dedicated himself to serving the blind community. Over the past 17 years, he has leveraged his financial expertise and lived experience to advance the cause through leadership positions with the nation's most prominent blindness organizations:

                    Leadership Positions
                    Board Member and Investment Committee Member, American Foundation for the Blind
Investment Committee Member, Lavelle Fund for the Blind
Investment Committee Member, Leader Dogs Foundation
Former Board Member, Guide Dog Foundation
Former Board Member, Surpassing Sight Foundation

                

This isn't theoretical advocacy. Matthew has worked inside the systems that serve the blind community, understanding both their remarkable impact and their inherent limitations. He's seen what works, what doesn't, and what might be possible with revolutionary innovation.

His service to these organizations informed his vision for Robots for the Blind—a vision built not just on personal experience, but on deep institutional knowledge of what the blind community truly needs.

The Decade of Navigation: Vulnerability and Close Calls

For ten years, Matthew navigated the world with a white cane. He built a career in finance and technology, refusing to let blindness dictate his professional trajectory. But the cane had limits—dangerous, humiliating limits.

"You're in the middle of Fifth Ave and the light is turning green!"

A stranger's voice cut through the traffic noise on Fifth Avenue in New York City. Matthew had lost his spatial orientation. Horns blared. He froze, helpless.

Another day, a speeding bus struck his cane, ripping it from his hand and sending it flying down the street. Matthew stood alone on a New York sidewalk, unable to identify the curb, unable to move safely, completely dependent on the kindness of strangers who might or might not notice his predicament.

The cane detected ground-level obstacles but missed scaffolding at chest height. It couldn't read signs or describe his surroundings. Most critically, it couldn't communicate. It couldn't tell him what it "saw" or provide the constant stream of environmental information that sighted people absorb without thought.

After a decade of these limitations, Matthew met Chris—his guide dog.

The Promise and Limits of a Guide Dog

In the United States, only approximately 2% of individuals with blindness use guide dogs^[1]^[7]—whether because of the responsibility of animal care, financial constraints, lifestyle incompatibility, or simply lack of desire to own a dog.^[3] A humanoid robot, because of its convenience, 24/7 availability, verbal communication capabilities, and ability to do so much more for the individual with blindness, best serves the entire population of individuals with blindness—approximately 1 million to 1.3 million persons in the United States^[2]^[4] and 43 million persons worldwide who are blind^[5] (with over 250 million experiencing blindness or low vision globally).^[6]

Chris transformed Matthew's mobility. Where the cane would miss obstacles, Chris guided him around them. The dog prevented him from stepping into traffic and navigated complex environments with remarkable skill.

For the first time in a decade, Matthew felt a measure of freedom.

But Chris, like all living beings, had limitations—some minor, some mortifying.

Food on the sidewalk or in the subway distracted him. Well-meaning strangers petted him despite his working vest, breaking his concentration at critical moments. He became fearful during thunderstorms and would stop working entirely, leaving Matthew stranded.

Then there were the moments that tested Matthew's professional composure. Chris developed the distinctive wet dog smell during meetings. Once, he vomited during an important business meeting. Matthew learned to carry cleanup supplies and maintain his dignity while managing his guide dog's biological needs.

The unpredictability was constant. Would Chris need a bathroom break during a critical presentation? Would he have diarrhea in a public building or during an important event? These weren't hypotheticals—they were Matthew's reality.

Chris was a devoted companion, but he couldn't speak. He couldn't communicate what he saw, share insights powered by artificial intelligence, or explain the environment. He couldn't read documents or describe faces. He couldn't tell Matthew what was on a sign or explain the layout of an unfamiliar room.

Most critically, Chris couldn't help Matthew at work in the ways employment truly demanded.

Building an Extraordinary Career Against Extraordinary Odds

Matthew refused to accept that blindness meant professional limitation. While 80% of adults with blindness remain unemployed—and those who do work are 2.5 times more likely to live below the poverty line—Matthew had already overcome extraordinary odds just to have a guide dog, since only 2% of individuals with blindness use them.^[1]^[7] Yet even with this rare advantage, he faced constant challenges. Despite these barriers, Matthew built a distinguished career managing a $3 billion portfolio for MMBB Financial Services.

He proved that with determination and the right support systems, blindness need not prevent professional excellence.

But he also understood, viscerally, what was missing. The employment barriers weren't about capability—they were about access to information, independent navigation, and the confidence that comes from true autonomy.

A Shocking Discovery

Sixteen years after Matthew lost his eyesight, he learned the true reason for his severe blindness. It wasn't solely Best Disease and concussions from college football. He was also diagnosed with Leber's Heredity Opticneropathy Disease—a rare hereditary disease he received from a different grandparent than the one who gave him Best Disease.

The one-in-1.34 billion chance of obtaining both rare genetic eye diseases is certainly an unfortunate circumstance. But it has also grounded him in understanding the plight of the blind community through lived experience.

And perhaps more importantly, it has given him perspective on the extraordinary luck of living in an era where advanced technology can bring good fortune to those who have been born blind or blinded through circumstance.

The Revolutionary Innovation

When Matthew first learned about Tesla's Optimus humanoid robot, he saw something others hadn't yet imagined: the solution to every limitation he'd experienced over 17 years of blindness.

A humanoid robot offers what neither cane nor guide dog can provide—and the difference is genuinely transformative:

Verbal Communication—The Game Changer

A cane can't talk. A dog can't talk. But a robot can communicate what it sees, share AI-powered insights, and engage in genuine dialogue. It reads signs, menus, documents, and medication labels aloud. It describes faces, identifies people, and explains social situations. This isn't just assistance—it's collaboration.

Complete Environmental Awareness

It detects obstacles at all heights—ground level, chest level, overhead hazards. No more standing helpless in the middle of Fifth Avenue. No more losing a cane to traffic and being stranded.

24/7 Reliability

No fear of thunderstorms. No distraction from food on the street. No biological needs during important meetings. No wet dog smell. No vomiting. No diarrhea in public buildings. Just constant, dependable support.

Professional Dignity

Navigates office environments independently, reads screens and documents, assists with tasks requiring visual coordination, and provides the professional presence that transforms employment possibilities—without the biological uncertainties of a living animal.

This wasn't incremental improvement. This was transformation.

Restoring What Was Taken

Matthew lost his eyesight at 24. He knows exactly what it feels like to have independence and freedoms abruptly stripped away—the ability to drive, to read, to navigate confidently, to work without accommodation barriers.

"I've always said I can overcome my disability based on my abilities and technology. But perceptions of my abilities? That's been the hardest barrier to overcome."

A robot doesn't just restore independence to individuals with blindness. It fundamentally changes how others perceive capability.

When someone navigates with a white cane, observers see limitation. When someone works with a guide dog, observers see accommodation. But when someone partners with an AI-powered humanoid robot, observers see advanced technology enabling advanced capability.

The robot's sophisticated intelligence elevates perceptions. It demonstrates that an individual with blindness, supported by cutting-edge technology, isn't operating at a deficit—they're operating at the frontier of human-technology collaboration.

"A robot gives back the freedoms blindness took away. But it also breaks down the perception barriers that have limited the blind community for centuries. That's equally transformative."

Why Humanoid Robots, Not Robotic Guide Dogs

Robotic guide dogs exist. Matthew is aware of them. He's evaluated the technology.

But humanoid robots offer something fundamentally different: the natural human experience of walking with another person.

"I'm most comfortable walking while holding onto a handler—someone standing upright beside me who can see the world and guide me through it. Walking upright, holding someone's arm or placing my hand on their back, is the natural way humans navigate together."

A robotic guide dog, like a living guide dog, requires the handler to bend forward, gripping a harness at an awkward height. It positions the user in a posture of following rather than walking alongside.

A humanoid robot walks beside you. You can hold its arm, place your hand on its back, and move through the world in the same upright posture you'd maintain with a human companion.

It's not just about mobility—it's about dignity, comfort, and the psychological experience of partnership rather than dependence.

The Tesla Optimus robot provides exactly that: a capable handler who's always there, standing upright beside you, ready to describe the world and navigate it together.

From Personal Experience to Universal Mission

Matthew founded Robots for the Blind not as a technology enthusiast or distant philanthropist, but as someone who has lived every challenge the organization seeks to address.

He knows what it's like to stand paralyzed in traffic after losing his cane. He knows the professional embarrassment of a guide dog vomiting during a business meeting. He knows the vulnerability of complete dependence when assistive technology fails.

But more fundamentally, he knows what it's like to have freedom taken away at 24, and he knows technology's power to restore it.

When Matthew talks about independence, he's not speaking abstractly. He's speaking from 17 years of experience navigating a world designed for sighted people—first with a cane, then with a guide dog, and now envisioning something infinitely better.

Matthew, who views himself as a "Person of Determination" rather than a disabled person, created Robots for the Blind with capital from his fintech startup sale (WeVidIt) and plans continued support from his investment firm and with the help and partnership of kind donors who are willing to support this amazing cause.

The mission of Robots for the Blind is to supply, train, and equip any individual with blindness who would like a humanoid robot with one at no cost to the individual—empowering them for a life of opportunity and a level playing field in the pursuit of success.

The Economic Imperative

The impact extends far beyond individual independence. Unemployment and underemployment among individuals with blindness represent a staggering economic loss:

$152B

Lost annually in the United States

$411B

Lost globally each year

$1T+

Net benefit potential in global GDP annually

This isn't a charity project. It's an economic imperative disguised as a technology challenge.

By providing humanoid robots to the blind community, Robots for the Blind doesn't just change individual lives—it unlocks human potential that benefits everyone.

Careers in healthcare, finance, law, technology, and education become truly accessible. The 80% unemployment rate begins to shift. The economic burden transforms into economic contribution.

Matthew proved what's possible by managing $3 billion while blind. Robots for the Blind exists to make that possibility available to everyone.

Beyond Ordinary to Extraordinary

"I've relentlessly pursued a life that can be ordinary. Employment. Independence. The ability to walk confidently through the world. For most of the blind community, even 'ordinary' has been impossible to achieve. But AI-empowered robotics changes everything. We're not just making 'ordinary' possible—we're enabling people to become extraordinary."

Matthew's vision extends to every individual living with blindness. Not as recipients of charity, but as people with the right to full participation in society.

The Humane Choice

There's another dimension to Matthew's mission: compassion for the animals who have served the blind community for nearly a century.

Guide dogs are remarkable creatures who dedicate their lives to service. They train for 18-24 months at costs exceeding $50,000. They work for 6-10 years before retirement. Their entire existence revolves around service to humans.

"I love Chris. He transformed my life. But I also think about what we ask of these animals—an entire life of service, with no choice in the matter."

By providing robotic assistance, Robots for the Blind offers a compassionate alternative. No breeding programs required. No animals spending their lives in service. No ethical questions about working conditions or welfare.

It's the ethical evolution of assistive technology.

The Future Begins Now

Matthew's story is still being written. The organization he founded represents the next chapter—not just for him, but for everyone in the blind community who has been told what they cannot do.

Robots for the Blind is building a world where:

An individual with blindness can walk confidently through any environment

Employment is determined by capability, not accessibility barriers

Independence isn't a privilege secured through extraordinary effort, but a right enabled through extraordinary technology

Economic contribution replaces economic burden

Every person reaches their full potential

"Technology has advanced to the point where we can fundamentally transform what independence means for the blind community. Robots for the Blind exists to make that transformation real for as many people as possible."

From vision loss at 24 to managing billions while blind to founding an organization that will change lives worldwide—Matthew Sherwood's journey proves what's possible when determination meets innovation.

Now he's ensuring others can write their own extraordinary stories.

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Join the Mission

Help provide life-changing robotic assistance to individuals with blindness. Every contribution brings us closer to a world where blindness is never a barrier to opportunity.

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References & Sources

Guiding Eyes for the Blind. "Guide Dog Statistics." https://www.guidingeyes.org
National Federation of the Blind. "Blindness Statistics." https://nfb.org/resources/blindness-statistics
American Foundation for the Blind. "Survey on Barriers to Guide Dog Usage" (2022). https://www.afb.org
National Eye Institute / JAMA Ophthalmology. "Prevalence of Visual Impairment in the United States" (2016). https://www.nei.nih.gov
International Agency for the Prevention of Blindness (IAPB) / Vision Atlas. "Global Blindness Statistics." https://www.iapb.org/vision-atlas
World Health Organization. "Blindness and Vision Impairment." https://www.who.int/news-room/fact-sheets/detail/blindness-and-visual-impairment
International Guide Dog Federation (IGDF). "Global Guide Dog Teams Statistics" (2024). https://www.igdf.org.uk

As a cool blue night gives way, a violent crimson sunrise fills the skies over Bethpage, N.Y., a working-class Long Island suburb; Matthew Sherwood uses the app "Be my Eyes," to pick out his suit and tie for the day.

By the time he boards the 7:01 am Long Island Railroad train to Penn Station, the sky has neutralized into a soft and royal purple. Silhouettes of trees flash by as Sherwood flies south toward Manhattan. He cannot see any of it.

Among the morning commuters checking their phones and catching what little sleep they can before getting into the office, Sherwood makes conversation with the lady sitting next to him. Sharon Gurino, a nurse from Massapequa, N.Y., Gurino asks Sherwood if he's lost faith in humanity since he went blind. Sherwood responds, "If anything, I've found faith in humanity."

"If anything, I've found faith in humanity."

In college, Sherwood ran a 4.5 second, 40-yard dash. (For those who don't follow football, that's fast. It's the kind of speed pro-football players possess.) Sherwood now walks 3.5 mph with a cane.

Despite losing his eyesight, Sherwood carries himself chin-up and heart-forward; he makes eye contact with whomever he speaks to. Strangers don't initially recognize he's legally blind because his blue eyes still possess limited peripheral ability. When he happens to bump into scaffolding he chuckles and asks, "Who put that there?"

Sherwood owns many hats and has worn countless more. Growing up in upstate New York, he worked in farming, restaurants, construction, asbestos cleaning, mental-health facilities, college campuses, and a slaughter-house. After he lost his eyesight and his job at a hedge fund during the 2008 financial crisis, he did a stint in door-to-door sales while working on his PhD.

Sherwood currently manages a multi-billion-dollar portfolio for The Ministers and Missionaries Benefit Board. He is on faculty at The King's College as a fellow in finance and business and has given guest lectures at Columbia University. In his free time, he conducts sustainable investment research and writes articles on finance that are published in academic journals. He is currently co-authoring the first textbook on Environmental, Social and Government factor-based Investment, E.S.G. for short, with a former student of his at The King's College, Julia Pollard.

"I'm just a hard worker," Sherwood says. "I grew up in upstate in New York where you worked the farm all year round and have tough, tough winters. I always had that hard work ethic ingrained in me."

At his office in a tower overlooking the Hudson River on the Upper West Side, Sherwood's nose hovers an inch away from the flat screen TV that serves as a desktop monitor. Using a specialty software that magnifies 12-point font to 200, Sherwood rapidly clicks through emails and spreadsheets, reading whole documents two words at a time.

After checking his schedule, he sarcastically chuckles that he only has "two wonderful meetings today," explaining that "the less meetings I have, the more work I get done."

Sherwood sticks to routine. He is up at 6 am, at the Bethpage train station by 7 and in his office by 8:15. He eats his breakfast (the same bacon, egg and cheese sandwich every day) standing up while responding to emails, checking asset positions, foreign markets, and key indices. He follows commodities and currencies, while making the occasional phone call with money managers in London and Switzerland.

He checks futures and bond prices, foreign and domestic, using them as derivatives alongside implied and historical volatility trends to gauge market sentiment. All of this is done in time to start taking risks come opening bell at 9:30 am.

"I just kind of go at it," Sherwood explains.

While Sherwood means business, his demeanor is light. He is down to earth and friendly, a good ol' boy from upstate New York. He had his first beer when he was 21 and attributes his work ethic to life on the farm. Not able to afford college, Sherwood made sure his academic and football skills could help him get there. After receiving a full ride athletic scholarship to Liberty University, Sherwood graduated Summa Cum Laude in three years with a 3.9 GPA, he then received his MBA in an accelerated one- year program. Following his 2007 graduation, Sherwood accepted a position at Morgan Stanley in its private wealth management division before taking a job at a hedge fund, managing a full discretionary investment position at Axis Global.

"I've always had a chip on my shoulder growing up, not in a boastful way but I've always had something to prove," Sherwood said, taking a break from his computer in his office. "I grew up from humble beginning and when you go back to upstate New York, my dad is still in a single wide trailer. I grew up with hard times and, for me, I always wanted more. Now, I eat a lot less ramen noodles in life but I still stay humble."

While the S&P 500 index saw a 40 percent drop during the 2008 financial crisis, Sherwood's asset portfolio at the hedge fund where he worked increased 18 percent, a 58 percent out performance over the benchmark index. But on Aug 13, 2008, during the heart of the crisis, Sherwood's life changed forever.

"I woke up and there was a dot on the mirror. It was 6:30 in the morning, this was after trading Asia all night. I tried to wipe the dot away and all of the sudden the dot was on my hand, it was a bright white dot, anywhere I looked." Sherwood said.

Not knowing what to think and with a pregnant wife at home, Sherwood decided to conduct business as usual. He was in his office by 8:30 am, making trades and taking risks by 9:30 am.

"I got to my desk and the dot was everywhere I looked," Sherwood said. "I just wanted to stay focused on what I was doing. August 2008 was a very volatile time for the market, this was after we dissolved Lehman Brothers and Bear Stearns was in turmoil."

After work, Matthew made his way home, stuck to the routine, ate dinner as quickly as possible and was on his screens in time for the Australian and Japanese market opening.

"I didn't want anyone to know. I felt very vulnerable."

"I then woke up in the morning on the 14th after a brief REM sleep. I looked at the mirror and that dot was now the size of a quarter. And wherever I looked there it was. And at that point I remember being nervous but I didn't want it to faze me in any way. I made it out the door, made it to the train at a normal time. Sticking with the routine, I was in front of my desk by 8:15 am. I ended up looking at my screens and I couldn't see anything - I couldn't see any numbers, I couldn't see anything." Sherwood said.

Not wanting to lose valuable time on the markets, Sherwood asked his assistant to magnify his screens. He proceeded to do business as usual, taking risks, entering and exiting out of trades and holding positions overnight.

"I ended up getting home, mentally I was frustrated, I think a lot of me was hoping that I would wake up the next day and It would go back to normal," Sherwood said. "I didn't want my pregnant wife to know. I didn't want anyone to know. I felt very vulnerable."

Sherwood woke up the following morning at 6:30 am to find that his eyesight had gotten worse. He could only see peripherally. Determined to stick to the routine, Sherwood got in his car and drove to the Syosset, Long Island, train station, running two red lights on the way. Getting to his office, he could not see anything that had been magnified the day before.

"I remember going to the bathroom, just splashing water on my face, I did that the day before and the day before that too, and this is August 15th of 2008, just splashing water all over my face, getting water over my shirt, and just having a very confusing breakdown of sorts," Sherwood said. "I went back, tried to keep it together, went back to the screens, really didn't want anyone to know anything was going on."

Sherwood called his assistant over and told him to de-risk the portfolio, selling off any risky stock positions to cash. Sherwood was out of 90 percent of his positions by 10 am.

He proceeded to call his now ex-wife, who was working at a hospital at the time. He told her he needed the first available appointment with an optometrist. He was in a doctor's office by 12:45 pm. Sherwood remembers the optometrist saying, "you're blind, you're legally blind, you're 20/2300 both eyes…legally you are not allowed to drive anymore. It's in your optic nerves where your optic nerve meets your retina which is part of your brain; there is nothing that you can do, just nothing we can do for you - this will be your life."

The sudden loss of sight was some combination of multiple concussions throughout high school and college football as well as a genetic eye disease and the stress of trading on screens for long hours.

On the car ride home, Sherwood came to grips with his reality. He remembers telling himself, "I'm going to be fine, everything is going to be fine, because it had to be."

In the week between him losing his eyesight and returning to work, he had ordered a cane, found a software that would allow him to trade and decided to learn the rest on the go. He didn't receive formal mobility training until a year later.

"I had made a conscious commitment that night to not worry about what I couldn't control and just worry about what I could," he says.

In the midst of losing his eyesight, Sherwood lost his wife and many of his old friends. He said that he felt like Job, "going through loss and just feeling hopeless but still trying to trust."

Now Sherwood looks back and sees the larger picture.

"I feel restored, I feel like Job where God put me through these challenges. He may not have given me my sight back, but in many ways I am blessed to have better vision than many," Sherwood said. "My relationship with God and Jesus Christ has been a crutch through the hard times and it also helps me recognize the blessings that I do have… Now, more than ever, I realize if God takes care of the birds, God is going to take care of me."

While Sherwood no longer sees with his eyes, his perspective on life grows everyday. The chip on his shoulder is still there but not for the same reasons. Sherwood now works for the Ministers and Missionaries Benefit Board (MMBB), a Christian nonprofit investment organization that manages portfolio for pastors and missionaries around the world. As Sherwood walks into work, he points out the plaque in the center of the lobby, which features 1 Cor. 10:31: "whatever you do, do all to the glory of God."

"It's encouraging to take care of people who are truly shepherds to a flock as pastors. And it's nice that my skills–even though they are much different–my skills in finance and everything that I do throughout the day, how I operate, how I relentlessly pursue successful performance, is benefiting the membership," he said. "I really take pride in that."

Sherwood chooses not look back on whether or not he should have played college football. It's a question I refuse to answer," he said. "I just say this is the card I was dealt so it's up to me how I play the hand… Instead of wondering why, I just say, 'what can I learn from this and how can I learn from this and how can I move forward.' "

Moving forward, Sherwood is focused on providing for his daughter and fiancé, making a positive difference in the world of sustainable investment, and being an inspiration for the blind community. He still falls and trips during his daily three-hour commute to and from work, but humor and a positive perspective on life pull him through.

When Sherwood finds the time, he'll occasionally perform at comedy club open mic nights on the Lower East Side. His specialty? Blind guy jokes.

Asked how he met his fiancé, Stephanie, Sherwood responded, "We met the old fashion way…. in a bar at like 1 in the morning." Realizing that he had met someone truly special, Sherwood used the line, "have you ever tried going on a date with a blind guy? You should try it - bucket list."

Sherwood and Stephanie have been together now for six years. Sherwood says that she helps him get around but still allows him to be a gentleman and open doors for her, "even though it takes me 15 minutes to find the handle."

After a long day in the office, Sherwood often makes a stop at the New York Sports Club in Syosset, N.Y. Before he walks into the gym, Sherwood pauses in the doorway to take some last minute phone calls. Walking in, he exchanges words and banter with young jocks and retired NYPD officers. Sherwood still squats three plates and bench presses two. Gary Weinstein, a local athlete with a speech impediment, spots Sherwood on a 225 bench press, Weinstein explains that Sherwood is an inspiration, adding that he looks up to Sherwood and how "he is able to overcome his disability."

In between sets, Sherwood says when you're blind you can't take life too seriously. As an example, he recalls the time he went to sit down on a gym machine and accidentally sat on a lady's lap. She screamed. He responded: "I'm sorry. I didn't see you there."

By the time Sherwood heads out of the gym the sky is black over Syosset N.Y. and he is getting ready to trade markets in Asia.

Asked how he is always able to maintain a positive attitude, Sherwood lightly chuckles, shrugs his shoulders, and responds, "It beats the alternative."

"It beats the alternative."