Written 9/29/21. Video was taken on 7/30/21.
Okay, so. On a beautiful July afternoon out in the woods in Montana, I sobbed for a good 20 minutes straight because I met hearing parents who actually learned sign language for their deaf children.
Yeah, I’m a little in disbelief at myself for sharing an actual video of my red, puffed-up face in midst of recovering from a sudden breakdown like this, lol, but you know what? I wanted to document it for a reason, so here goes.
After recovering from the constant shuddering and probably loud as heck snorts or whatever sounds I was making, I just sat there on a staircase at the back of a building, trying to calm myself down and digest this long-awaited outburst. The campers were out at the lake, splashing and playing about. The sun was shining, the weather was perfect, and I was feeling an overwhelming mix of emotions. I completely surrendered to it and let myself release all this pressure, all this I cannot simply explain, that had been triggered by the shock of something so simple, so obvious, so necessary.
Basically I broke down after being a part of a conversation with hearing parents who actually had no objection to signing with their deaf child. Instead, they had a stream of questions about how they could better support their child, what deaf-friendly resources they could use. Like, there was no struggle, no patient and calculated effort on our part to explain the importance of language and access to their deaf child. They just wanted to find more language models for themselves and for their children. Oh, you agree? You’ve already learned sign and are working on it? You want to improve your ASL, even? And that’s it? Truly? Throughout that chat, after seeing how they genuinely wanted to practice love with their kid by… just communicating with them in their natural language… with no strings or tricks, just pure good intentions? Gosh. I could barely contain myself from turning into mush. I felt so proud, and so saddened at how rare it was for it to be that easy. I thanked them profusely and emphasized to them just how potent and pivotal that simple decision to learn sign language was. I saw one mother’s eyes sparkling with held-down tears too. It took all the last bit of strength in me to conclude that conversation and escape somewhere I could hide out of sight before breaking down in shambles. I decided to document the aftermath of that moment, and here we are.
In this three-minute and thirty-second clip, I summarize just a smidge of what was running through my head lol. Transcript and visual description on YouTube.
These parents’ clear willingness to resist deeply rooted societal beliefs about deaf people and the need to “fix” us and instead immerse themselves into the beautiful, precious world of sign language, deaf culture and a new lens of life… That broke me. That broke me in how easy it could and should be. Why is it not the norm? The mind-boggling yet completely normal reality of deaf people is not having this basic human need met, and suffering for entire lifetimes as a result. Despite the glaringly obvious answer – access to language – millions of deaf infants, children, teenagers, adults, elders suffer language deprivation, physical and mental health issues, low self-worth, abuse, poverty, and so much more struggles because they were deprived of the human right to information, to sign language, and to what could have been. And there are so many successful, happy, healthy deaf people who reach their highest dreams and potential because of this human right to language – but this is only a small percentage. This is a result of the unfortunate, ridiculous lens towards deaf people and sign language that says we need to be fixed, cured, healed… Rather than embraced, valued, supported. Thanks, Alexander Graham Bell, and if the sarcasm wasn’t obvious, the AGB Foundation and all it stands for is just abuse covered in illusion by the misguided belief that it’s all made in good intentions (which mainly means making money), and their wealth and whiteness overpowers so many voices everywhere crying out to parents to, for crying out loud, stop falling victim to their dangling carrots. I’m pouring out my words in hopes at least one hearing parent sees this. I know it’s a lot of words, but it’s coming from the heart, and heck yeah, I’m going to use a lot of words because I can… Without language access, I would never be able to express my thoughts like this from the heart. That is what sign language enables deaf people to do and it is our LIFELINE.
There are more than 48 million deaf people in the United States (though it’s probably lots more than that number, and of course, not counting the billions more around the world) who have proven their capacity beyond mere ability with dazzling and expansive worldviews, innovation, 3D storytelling, solutions, creations of joy and magic, significant contributions to society, showcases of universal access designs, works of art, and far beyond. It is my firm belief that learning more about ways of communicating and living through deaf/signing lenses would literally improve humanity and our future. Like, there is absolutely no question about it.
Just like how learning more and listening to Black, indigenous and people of color everywhere would incredibly improve our ways of life and being… How we are and how we function and many beautiful, essential things we use and do on a daily basis is heavily indebted to their contributions and cultures over countless years, truly, but the white way, the hearing way, the rich way… They continue to conquer and overpower our consciousness, our systems in place, and take credit for all the ways the world works, dimming people’s shine and bypassing the foundational aspects of our humanity that wouldn’t exist if not for the many marginalized communities here in our home and everywhere that deserve far more support, respect, recognition, and human decency.
So, yeah. Let me pause on my outpourings a little bit and go back to the beginning to explain why I was crying so hard in the first place. Where was I? I was at Wild Horse Theatre Camp in Montana as a teacher/artist. I was hired to give workshops to teach the beauty and applications of visual vernacular to signing campers ranging from ages 5 to 18, including deaf and CODA kids. I think it’s important to mention that a lot of the deaf campers there come from backgrounds where their parents don’t sign for whatever reason, and conversely, many of the hearing kids whose parents DO sign still regularly secretly spoke without signing even when around deaf people. During that week, we had ongoing situations where kids would speak with each other, leaving others out, including fully grown deaf adults/teachers/counselors/parents, and that’s an example of the hearing way taking over – the comfort and convenience of speech and internalized shame or uncertainty towards deaf culture and sign language (for the hearing ones) and the desire to fit in, to not seem “broken”, and unconscious or conscious obligation to adhere to social expectations to be better rewarded or recognized (for the deaf ones), though I can’t fully assume this or determine this for each person.
I want to emphasize these kids are not to be blamed, and this type of behavior is not fully their fault – this is an instance of repeating cycles, of audism working its way through deaf and signing spaces despite each person’s ability to sign. Anyone can learn sign language. Not everyone can learn to hear. Yet hearing and speaking always overpowers if we don’t tirelessly advocate and educate about ASL, deafness, and access… I’ve worked at many other camps before and this has always been a thing – deaf or hard of hearing kids rejecting their own by speaking and following the hearing way, because they didn’t know better, and hearing kids who know sign or have deaf family members still speaking on the “down low” to talk about whatever they want to talk about (I have no idea because I’m deaf but I wish I knew!!!), because this is how the horribly misguided system does things, colonizing our minds and making people look down on “otherness” and blah. All this about the power and potential of deaf people and the utmost importance of language access and so on often becomes so clear only with the continued efforts of us educating others, of our lifelong navigation of resisting the white hearing way to discover a new, beautiful, liberating dimension of life. Okay, I’m rambling a little bit over here. Back to my point.
During the last few days of that week at theatre camp, there was also a mini family program at the same campground where a few hearing families of young deaf or hard of hearing children came for a few days to socialize with one another and learn more about how to support their child. Being in that environment brought up a lot of *FEELS* for me. Yeah. The mixture of that whole experience, COVID and finally getting out of my safety bubble, the reality of the situation, shock, and heightened hormones really created the perfect cocktail for a detox of indescribable stuff and rage and joy, and alas, the tears came a-flowing. Like I said, these parents, though only three of them, were so open to learning and to improving their ASL skills all in the name of what was the best for their child’s learning and development. Like, whaaaat? Obviously. But still, whoa. Something so obvious yet something that’s very much rare.
One of the families had eight, yes, EIGHT children including a four-year-old DeafBlind boy who was the seventh child. The entire family was hearing except for the boy, but ALL OF THEM used ASL in that camp environment. NONE of the older kids (as far as I know and based on what others said) used their voice as they socialized with the other deaf and CODA campers. They were incredibly attentive, aware, and respectful, and that sweet child was one of the happiest young children I’ve ever seen. He was so adorable, with pink glasses hung around his head, hearing aids too, and a bright colorful outfit, and one moment just filled my heart. “Draw the eyes!”… “The nose!”… “And now the mouth!” he chanted in ASL, leaning centimeters away from the ground peering at a piece of paper as his father skillfully drew a cat’s face on it, not being enough time to finish one thing before the boy commanded him to move on to the next body part. Awww. He would run around, reaching for whoever was closest, bump into things, fall to the ground, and bounce right back, pointing and signing the first thing that came to mind, sight or touch, and his siblings would laugh and tap him and use his own hands to communicate with him. The eldest child, about to graduate high school, made homemade cupcakes for us with the “ILY” handshape beautifully imprinted with purple frosting on each of them. |m|/
I was immensely relieved and shocked at the love I saw from this family and their complete willingness to learn a new language and way of life. They willingly rejected the hearing way only to embrace their child fully as he is, and this created an indescribable bond, a stunning way of life, by practicing pure love, patience and compassion in everything they do. In my other experiences with other hearing families such as at a family program in Michigan, a group of deaf and hard of hearing counselors found ourselves working hard to patiently and gently try to respectfully explain to parents why speech alone wasn’t enough, why sign language is a necessity. We watched toddlers struggle to communicate basic needs and speak gibberish even with cochlear implants or hearing aids on, but when we signed and gestured to them, we saw them immediately thrive. For their minds are like sponges and what they could see, they could immediately absorb, understand, and replicate. This was short-lived, though, as their guardians physically pushed or pulled them back when they did something wrong like reach for food or dirt with zero verbal explanation. When their tiny eyebrows would arch in confusion as they stared at their guardians’ lips, trying to comprehend something a simple gesture could have made so clear, my heart ached for them. My heart always aches for them. This is why we continue to fight, to stand up for them. To stop this cycle and to start a new era where we expand and thrive with the amazing lens of deaf people, of language access, joy, compassion, and endless, and beautiful possibilities without anything holding us back from reaching the peak of self-actualization and beyond.
I truly could go on and on. But yeah, that’s why I cried uncontrollably in the middle of the forest and this is actually not the first time I’ve cried like this from the harsh reality of sweet, dear, valuable deaf children not getting the understanding, love, and access they so fully deserve. There’s a lot of confusion and misunderstanding about deaf people but we truly have so much to offer, so much talent, and a worldview that surpasses the limits of speech and hearing. If only the world believed in us – the world would be a better place. Sign language will benefit EVERYONE and is a basic human right that all deaf children deserve – yes, teach it to hearing babies too! Teach it to everyone. But the point is, believe in us. Believe in deaf people. But doing this for deaf children is incredibly vital because there is a window of language acquisition and once that window closes, they may never reach their fullest potential because their brain didn’t pick up on all it could. Time is of the essence and I truly hope this becomes more common knowledge, that this becomes a common experience, rather than being something that only some “lucky” people get to experience. And then it doesn’t only focus on language, but the act itself, and how our lifestyle and society could change in potent and important ways if we were more considerate of each other, of what different worldviews have to offer and already have been offering to us all along without much recognition. So many things are connected and this is an effort to tie some of these loose ends together, as I ramble and make myself vulnerable, all in the name of access and better lives for these souls everywhere.
I’m getting tired, and oh my goodness I just realized it’s 3:51 am in the morning, and I need to give myself a break. But I don’t want to stop talking about it. We – and I mean whoever is reading this regardless of hearing status or background – have to come together and put in the work to make access for all a reality. We have to continue to educate. We have to continue to advocate. And we all just have to believe in what this will achieve, in the joy and magic of access and deaf/signing minds. I’ve seen living proof of the magic that can transpire from this, like with that family back in Montana. Someday I hope to meet that deaf boy again when he’s all grown up, and thank him and his family for changing lives, if this reaches at least one family who needs an extra push to bless themselves and their children with the magic of ASL or their country’s sign language.
Hold on, let me correct myself. Not just “changing lives”. Saving lives. Access saves lives.
We are each capable of making an impact beyond the imaginable. So I’m sharing a vulnerable part of myself I never thought would see the light of the day until my spontaneous decision a few hours ago to share it, because this movement is bigger than me, or any one person, or any community.
It’s so much bigger.
p.s.
Thank you for reading, truly.
