Humans are such resilient creatures. The days melt by as we circulate through feelings, feelings we don’t have words for, suppressed memories or bright times that replay with no clear trigger. Right now I’m reminiscing about the first time I tried wine. I was ten years old, I think. It was at a Thanksgiving dinner with my extended family in Austin, Texas. 

I remember I experienced what it was like to be buzzed for the first time, because nobody noticed until the third glass. Okay. Hold that thought, a bit more elaboration I shall share. I remember as a child I could already see the stress in my parents’ eyes when they tried to interpret. They would try, I must emphasize that and thank them for it, but I could see that being surrounded by others who would just verbalize and think and process and laugh with the vocal cords in their throat, hands laying docile… That was a tough position for them to be in. To be held back by the reins of giving me access. It was a burden. It was a burden to make my parents go through that. I was slowing them down. I was depriving them of their ability to eat or enjoy themselves. My fault. I don’t think anyone ever blamed me or told me anything to feel that way, but it was obvious – learning sign language was clearly so much of a hassle or wasn’t important enough. My mom or dad’s food would go cold. They’d become visibly stressed, my mom about everyone talking at once and her not being able to keep up, and  my dad because of his inability to interpret my words correctly. Fingerspelling and some basic signs that some of my family members knew were a blessing, don’t get me wrong, I was grateful, but… Also so limiting, for there is so much more to the human experience and language that I so wished I could dive into with my family. But I was Deaf and so it was my norm to be shut out of family settings, both by fault to me and to others. I admittedly blame myself because I told my parents it was okay, that they didn’t have to interpret, that it was okay with me. I felt so embarrassed and down and because of that I’d shut the family out, because I knew they didn’t really want to put in all that effort anyway and I was sure they’d be relieved when I told them to stop trying. I do think that part is true, quite honestly, but I now also realize that my thought process was so self-accusatory and audist against myself. 

These feelings overcame me in my childhood, ever since I can remember, because the last thing I wanted was to disappoint. I didn’t want to be a burden. Never, never, yet I was, every single day. I wanted my parents to be happy, to enjoy themselves, to be able to chat with their family or other people without any added pressure. So they stopped interpreting. It became normal, the norm, for me to sit in silence on the floor, my nose in a book. Or petting the dogs, looking up to my family from the floor. Or exploring elsewhere as chatters surely but silently floated in the air. To be clear, I don’t blame anyone. I now understand the gripping power of phonocentrism. The many systemic layers that prevented my extended family from learning more, from my own shame that shut them out from connecting with me any further… No one is to blame, and I am sure no one intended to cause harm. It’s the heartbreaking yet common view on Deafness and sign language – that it’s hard, weird, different, not important or convenient enough – that incapicated us. 

I remember that Thanksgiving in Texas, where I sat and watched my family’s mouths moving. They laughed and chatted and ate and all was jolly, and I was just sitting there with absolutely no knowledge or understanding of all the information that was being passed around in the air like salt and pepper shakers. Every time I disappeared from the room, in any of these family gatherings, I have no idea if anyone noticed or even asked. Perhaps they did, but any recognition of my presence would be a fleeting moment before people went on with enjoying their lives and conversations that I felt I would never be a part of. I could say that I was desperate to be included, to understand, but I think I was so desensitized to being left out that I reframed it into independence. It was my reality to miss out on getting the privilege of understanding because I’m Deaf and I thought that’s what God decided for me. I would often think to myself that I was lucky to at least not have to experience anything terrible because God (my mom was religious at that time, so I’d have these thoughts) already made me Deaf, one of the worst things that could happen to a person. So I’d go off on my own, in my own world. 

That night in Texas, as my family talked on and on at the Thanksgiving dinner table, I snuck away and poured wine in a glass and drank. Because that’s the information I picked up on, as an eight year old, or nine or ten, I don’t remember – how the adults would pour in their glasses and how they seemed lighter and happier each time they had a refill. I wanted to try this potion that would make me feel happy and want to laugh, too. I remember being cross-legged on the kitchen floor, with the refrigerator door open, the wine pouring like no tomorrow. I will also never forget the horrified look on my grandma’s face and then my family members all staring at me after I was caught. I didn’t fully realize it was only for adults, prohibited for kids. I was finally noticed, I was finally present, finally not invisible, but I also felt so ashamed. That is all I remember from that night. 

A paradox. That’s what it is. The feeling of home, of family. As Deaf people we all have our own incredible, wide range of human experiences. We all know as Deaf people what it’s like to be left out, to be shut out. Many know this to be all too true at home. I am incredibly lucky, the word I am using from what endless others have told me, that I wish was a reality for all of them, because my parents know sign language. I know it. I am. I’m so deeply grateful to my parents and I cannot emphasize that enough. I also acknowledge I have mixed feelings, that I can be grateful and fortunate while I also go through the unpacking process of other elements of home, too. I wrote this snippet when feeling this familiar wave, a few years ago, that visits me when the holidays come. I also want to emphasize that there is so much of my human experience that my parents couldn’t have changed, or are not to blame for… Because they did their best, they did what they thought was best, and they did it all with love, which is something I can’t say for so many Deaf souls out there. 

Again, the human experience… Can encounter so many levels, layers, sides of things of such immense joy, love, gratitude, and pain, loneliness, trauma. It’s okay to process all sides of this multidimensional reality that we each have gone through and continue to explore. This little snippet that I found today, while digging through my notes, inspired me to just ramble with my fingers on the keyboard right now. This is what I wrote a few years ago, right around this time of the year. 

“I have to shift my entire entirety to have a simple conversation. And I lose myself in the process, because it’s like I jump into another persona, slipping out of my usual one. I become more prone to emotion, to frustration, to being someone who I don’t like being. I react differently in all the struggle to communicate, in all my emotions, and an uglier side of me comes out because of that. The feelings that come with feeling like an invalid or feeling lesser than I am by feeling so obviously deaf, not myself, and restrained from all that my mind has to share. I think I’ll spend a lifetime writing and rambling to make up for all those years I remained silent with or without a choice or had to simplify myself. I feel stunted, different, and that’s something I detest feeling. But I shouldn’t avoid it all the time. There are other things that home brings too, good things. Part of this experience is my own growth and building myself into a better person and also some battles that are valid and I shouldn’t minimize or ignore them, too. Home is paradoxical.” 

I love my family. If I were writing this about my parents, it would be a completely different entry, but I’m recalling times with my extended family – who I also love, who I also don’t blame. They put in more effort in ways many other families don’t. No one’s character is being put to blame, it’s simply how we went on with life with the many subconscious messages about Deafness, sign language, and Deaf culture. Ignorance, meaning many don’t know any better. I could have advocated for myself more, I could have… But why am I blaming myself? I’m giving myself permission to let go, to realize I didn’t know any better, and that I found a way to free myself from feelings of stress and hurt by deciding to dive into my own world rather than trying so hard to succumb to others’ worlds. Some want to put in extra effort and others don’t. Each person’s story is different, and at this time we can mourn and embrace all of these paradoxical things within our worlds in all of our living experiences. This is my entry as a Deaf person, but I must also recognize that my family must have had their own struggles, too? I can only imagine, or admittedly hope, that they wanted to communicate with me and felt they could have done better. It’s difficult for me to admit that knowing they feel a bit of remorse would bring some comfort. Again, all the different things we can feel at once, all the truths circulating. 

I could take this time to explain what family members could do, what would make it better… But this is a time for me to process my own emotions at this time, and the only thing that truly comes to mind is the utter importance of communication access. Of feeling included, of language access. There are so many ways, but nothing can ever beat a visible language. At least a communication method that anyone can understand is incredibly helpful. Sign language – with plenty of resources online to use as a refresher. Voice to text technology. Gestures. Interpreting, even if feelings of shame accompany. And even then, it can be difficult, and it’s okay for people to feel in ways they don’t want to feel – patience and respect of boundaries is key during these times. There’s no one right way to do things or feel when it comes to communication between hearing people and Deaf children or adults, because it’s often nonexistent or imperfect. And we also need to learn how to set boundaries, which is something I’m working on. Which is the reason I’m embracing alone time this morning on a day many others celebrate with their families, putting my own space and time first and foremost. 

It’s okay to not be okay right now. It’s okay if the holidays aren’t a happy time for you or even quite the opposite. We each always have things to be grateful for, to remember. And we also have things in our childhoods that we’re still finding ways to heal from, and that’s okay. You are not alone. Do spend time with yourself, with loved ones who you feel beautiful and completely yourself with. I want to thank my dear friends and loved ones in the past who have included me in their Deaf/signing family or friend gatherings – that was the biggest gift, to have chosen families where I had full access. Each time I’m in that environment, my inner child finally gets that laughter and endless chattering I so desperately wanted to be a part of growing up but thought I would never get to have. What I hope for is that families give their Deaf children that every day. This is what I will always advocate for, until my last day, because THAT is love at its best form.

Thank you for these blessings, and thank you to my family for all the beautiful things that I didn’t have a chance to document in this rambling entry of mine. Again, there’s so much more I could write about, but today I am allowing myself to write whatever comes to mind, and it has been therapeutic. My ask to you today is to do what feels therapeutic to yourself, too, even if it’s something radical… Like not breaking your own boundaries for others’ sake, even if it’s family. Do what YOU need. I am here to tell you that you are so valued and loved, even if it doesn’t exactly feel like it right now. You have a family out here rooting for you, a community who embraces you. <3

This is my personal thought process and there are areas I have caused pain also. I must acknowledge that I and my family and ancestors have contributed to unspeakable harm by living on land that is not ours. I do not celebrate Thanksgiving anymore, rather, today is National Day of Mourning, but I was a part of practicing colonialism, racism, and ignorance by celebrating that with my family for years. No more. Today I mourn and today I unpack.

Sending you all so much love today.