HE AIN'T AS GREAT AS THEY THINK HE IS

BOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

When I begin an American Sign Language class, I try to make sure that everyone not only learns sign language, but perhaps most importantly, also learns about the population who uses it. Deafness is something that almost always shocks hearing people when they delve into such things as Deaf Culture and Deafhood and what they mean.

There are several capacities to our culture that many hearing people tend to shut their eyes to. However, not all are avoiding the subject; many are simply misinformed.

Deaf history is also very important to learn about if you’re interested in learning our language, so that people can see how far we’ve come in the past decade. We still have a heck of a ways to go though. And, inarguably, one of the biggest figures in the past movements of the deaf and hard of hearing was Alexander Graham Bell.

AG (as I will call him) is known by many individuals, organizations, and doctors, as a huge supporter of deaf and hard of hearing people. I mean, hey, he had a deaf wife, a deaf mother, and he invented the telephone as a way to try to help deaf people communicate. Thanks, man. Appreciate it. Didn’t work at all for us and actually caused more oppression, but, hey, you accomplished something. Right?

AG’s known in the Hearing world as a supporter, yet he is known in history to be anything but that. In fact, you see, AG was completely against Sign Language. He was completely against many things related to the deaf and hard of hearing. He was a strict oralist and, oh yeah,….

Ever heard of eugenics? Does World War II ring a bell? Hitler? Nazism? Well, remove one Adolph Hitler and replace him, at another time and place, with AG and you’re pretty close in deciphering his attitude to this “defective race.” Yes, I said “defective.” So did he.

See, AG had this theory that, if the country could keep deaf people separated and they didn’t socialize with each other, things would be easier. Deaf people would eventually disappear. If they could make a mandate that deaf people cannot marry, (and why not throw in some sterilization of deaf people?), they’d have the “problem” covered.

His reasoning? If deaf people didn’t have children and they stayed away from each other, “those kind of people” would eventually die off.  Nice. Kind of gives you a warm, tingly feeling, don’t it?

But, thankfully (times a million), his ideas didn’t stick for the entire COMMUNITY. Sure, there are definitely areas where oralism rules supreme, but there are also lots of places where ASL is accepted and Deaf people are simply a minority with their own language and customs.

As you can see, AG Bell, is one of the most well known advocates against Sign Language and yet ASL prevails. As George Veditz said a long time ago (1913), “As long as we have deaf people on earth, we will have signs.” It’s true. I guess I just wanted to get rid of people’s notions that AG helped the signing community. He may be, in my opinion, one of the most notorious figures in Deaf History.

SMALL TALK -- IS IT REALLY WORTH THE EFFORT?

It happened (again) just a couple of days ago. I’d had my fill of things to deal with and I just wanted to be left alone. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible. I had to go to my daughter’s school and help out with the popcorn. I mean, hey, it was “Popcorn Friday,” and they needed me. I only had to be there until all the popcorn sacks were filled and ready to be delivered to the various classes. So, I arrived and I knew where to go. I checked in with the secretary, Karen – she knows me. She waved, I waved, we parted.

Then I get to the popcorn machine. I looked at the list of volunteers that day and it said, “Stacey M” and me, so I decided to wait for Stacey, because I’d never done that before and I had no idea how to even start the popcorn machine…much less actually make the popcorn.

I hadn’t been at the machine more than three minutes before the PTO chairperson approached and told me…something. I ask how to work it and she mumbled with a few things. I explained I’m deaf; she mumbled even more. Not to mention that, while she gabbed, she’s also repositioned things and got things ready (I’m assuming). Then she looked up, smiled, and patted me on the back as she walked away.

What should I have done? I knew even less after she left than I did before she showed up in the first place. I played with a few doohickeys to see if any of them would create power and allow the machine to become THE POPCORN MASTER. Yeah, yeah, it’s supposed to be “MAKER,” but I like “MASTER” better. It makes me feel tall. Don’t ask.

The fact of the matter is I’d been standing there for a half hour with no idea what to do. Then, behold, Stacey M. showed up. She was babbling and smiling and, I’m guess apologizing for being late. She flips the switch and the MASTER comes to life. Hallelujah!

But as we stood there, filling up bags, Stacey starts to make small talk. Oy vey! Small talk is not my forte. I mean, I can’t hear a thing. They only reason I knew she was talking was because he lips were flapping and she kept giggling at something only she thought funny.

That’s one thing in my life I wish I had – the ability to make small talk with hearing people. If I can even get someone to talk/write for me. It happens very seldomly though.  Actually, it never happens. If someone doesn’t know I’m deaf and starts talking and I let them know, they usually walk away (in my opinion, because they felt uncomfortable or embarrassed by our different languages).

So, if you become deaf today, and you have no residual hearing, no lipreading abilities, etc., what do you do? Announce to the world you’re deaf and not to talk with you? OK. What happens if they do that…if they smile and nod and ignore you. Is that better? Or do you feel oppressed because they don’t want to try? It’s a catch 22 and I hate it!

To engage in conversation or not to engage in conversation (or attempt to engage in conversation). That is the question. (Was that really a question? Sounds like a fragmental statement to me). Truth is, with me, it depends on the circumstance. There have been many times where I simply shook my head and pointed to my ear to let others know I’m deaf. That usually sends them running and then there’s no need to put forth that effort. But there are many times where I will be bored or I’ll see someone I vaguely know and I’ll wish we could converse. Like I said, a catch 22. 

What I do is I evaluate the situation. Where am I, with whom am I, why am I there with whomever (that’s a very strange word…whom), how long will I be there, stuff like that.

I think hearing people underestimate the power of small talk in this world. It’s a part of daily life for most people. But what about those who can only make small talk with a few people? Can I not go to the grocery store, stand in line, and make a sarcastic, yet, utterly witty comment? Most days I don’t want to anyway (I’ve never been good in face to face situations), but there are many days when I want to make fun of someone or show the person behind me the new tap dance move I’ve invented. Or perhaps even do the moonwalk down aisle 13 with the woman in the yellow shirt. But I don’t.

Small talk can be very tricky. Very irritating. And very liberating. I hate things like that.

ONE DEAF WOMAN'S EXPERIENCE IN A SEEMINGLY HOPELESS SITUATION

Being the wife of an airport/government employee, you would think that flying wouldn’t make me nervous. Ha! You’d be wrong. However, since we have very little money, we haven’t gone anywhere by air in the past few years, anyway. However, driving? Now, that’s a different issue altogether.

There was a time, not too long ago, when driving anywhere alone was quite risky for me. We didn’t have great cars, so there was always a chance that the car could fall ill and break down. In fact, I remember very well the time I changed this assumption to the truth.

About ten years ago, we didn’t have a “phone” for me to carry. I just had to say a prayer and hope. Sometimes the hope kind of leaves things adrift.

So, there I was, driving on the highway and passing East St. Louis, IL. If you know the place, you also know that it’s been rated one of the most dangerous cities -- at least in America. Bad place. Bad. We’re talking machetes and tuberculosis. OK. Maybe not TB. I’m trying to set a mood here!

This particular night, as I drove past, I hit a bump and one of my back wheels exploded. What do I do?? I thought to myself. I don’t know how to change a tire, no one is stopping to help me, I’m right outside of East St. Louis, it’s about 9 PM, so it’s really dark, I have nothing with me to contact anyone, and Kenny just happens to be at a very small church that doesn’t answer their phone when there’s a service going on. Oy vey!

I didn’t have much of a choice, so I decided I would walk into East St. Louis and try to find a phone. Problem: I can’t use a normal phone! So I would need to walk up the highway exit ramp, try to stay in the light (street lights didn’t work in most places), find a pay phone, and then ask someone who happens by to make the call for me. No problemo. Ya think? Not to mention that I couldn’t call Kenny, so I would need to call my parents collect and then try to explain where I was and then walk back to the car.

Aha! All I knew is that I was either gonna die in my car or die on the street (or at a gas station). Basically put: Death was impending in this situation. But, given those two choices, I had to go with the death in the hood. That would let people know that we deafies have some chutzpa and that I’m a tough broad. I liked it. I’ve always wanted to be mysterious.

I was terrified, but I had no real options, so I left my comfortable, but ill car in search of humans who would flap their lips as well as I flapped my hands. I truly was not prepared for this, but that seemed OK, as it turned out that some man pulled over to the side of the highway as I was walking to my impending doom. He asked me a few things, but I just yelled, “I’m Deaf. Can you take me to a phone?” That in itself was pretty darn scary. I didn’t know this guy, but I was at fate’s mercy by this time.

(Hey! Now that I think of it, it doesn’t make sense. This looked like a well-off man. Why didn’t he have a cell phone? Hmmm…)

I got in the car and he started saying something about me walking into East St. Louis, especially at night, was NOT something he recommended. I was so relieved that he helped though! So, it turns out there IS life on this planet (inserted line from “What Women Want,” in case you don’t know).

He drove me to a phone and called my mother for me. He said something and then wrote (yes, I did have my handy dandy notebook), “Your mother wants to talk to you.” He, of course, had to interpret. When I got on the phone though, my mom was freaking out. “How are you?” “Are you safe?” “This man could rape you and kill you!” Gee, thanks Mom. That’s one thing to look forward to. My saving grace got back on the phone and told her we were on Hwy 70. Then he took me back to my car. I was lucky in so many ways!

I waited for my dad to come to get me, but it took over an hour and they only lived within a 10 to 15 minute drive. I was starting to get worried when my dad showed up. Apparently, the man said I was on 70, when I was actually on 270. Dad got tired of driving up and down 70, trying to see if he’d missed me, and then finally told himself to just drive down 270 and see. Sure enough! Victory!!!! PAH!

The point is, now, anytime I’m on the road, I’m terrified to know if it’s going to break down. Although I now have a Sidekick and that helps immensely, it only does text messages. I would not know what to do or who to contact! My husband gets a ride to work with a friend, so he wouldn’t be able to drive and help me…but let’s leave this story on a positive note.

I mean, I could go on about getting lost and trying to find someone to read my notebook, where I wrote my questions and understand they need to write to me! But pshaw! I shall always persevere! 

Me? I’m not scared of flying, it’s the falling from the sky, crashing and bleeding that gets me. But I’m a lot more comfortable knowing I can have a fairly worried free trip via air instead of traveling (alone) by car. At least one of my cars…

AND.....CUE!

The Whitman’s were due for dinner and, knowing I would be the only deaf person here and that they don’t use sign language, I tried my best to brace myself for what was to come. As Dr. Phil would say, “This wasn’t my first rodeo.” I had my paper and pen, but, because my husband, Kenny, was going to be there, he was planning on interpreting. That was nice of him, wasn’t it?

As the guests arrived, Kenny and I stood at the door to welcome them. What I found myself face-to-face with was an elderly woman with blood-red lipstick that seemed to follow the wrinkles in the skin above her upper lip (making it seem she had a bright red mustache) and a man with a Frito-catcher around his face that would rival even Old St. Nick himself. Wow! If I were ever going to need a pen and paper or an interpreter, tonight would be the night!

We said our hellos, hugged, hung up their coats and got them a drink. I should have gotten me a stiff one, too. While all of that was taking place, Kenny engaged in a nice conversation with them, making sure to sign his part. But, honestly, I was not all that interested, so I busied myself in preparing the dinner table.

After I was done, all four of us sat down at the table to eat. This can be looked at as gross or upsetting on so many levels. First and foremost, there’s the fact that here sat at least two people who don’t understand why talking with their mouth full bothers me more than it seems to bother other people. What planet did they come from? Where in the Solar System does it say that it’s considered polite and OK to spit out their mashed potatoes at the same time they’re spitting out their consonants? Ew! That has always been a pet peeve of mine and it doesn’t necessarily have to do with being deaf and paying more attention to their faces and lips. Besides, what lips?

The bulk of the frustration I was dealing with was our chitchat. As the four of us sat around, Kenny would interpret what they were saying and he would be sure to sign what he was saying. The problem I ran into is the pattern it left:

They speak.

Kenny turns to me and signs what they said.

All people in the room watch me for my reaction to what was said.

All night long, they would talk and, when Kenny went to include me, everyone got a expectant face and wanted to know what I thought. I despise being the center of attention. I mean, make me some wallpaper that kind of blends into the paint and I’d be very happy. But when we have people over who don’t sign, this is what happens.

Sure, I could ask them to write to me instead of having Kenny interpret, but it seems a little odd to say, “You know, I hate it when my husband signs to me. Can you write that down?”

Perhaps it’s just me, but it seems redundant when he could have just as easily told me what was being said. It just bugs the bejeebas out of me when everyone wants to look at me for a reaction. I mean, sometimes I don’t have a reaction. I’m not going to look all excited and responsive with every single sentence. Just let me hang out. Don’t put me on cue. It’s just too much pressure. You know? I feel like it’s almost a, “Let’s see how the Deaf woman reacts,” kind of thing.

Kenny (signing and speaking): How many children do you have?

Guest (speaking only): I have three kids.

Kenny (interprets): Three children.

Everyone looks at me to see my response.

Me (signing and sometimes speaking): Wow! Three kids? That’s great!

But, really, what’s so great about it? I have three kids. I’d gladly give away one or two sometimes. But I don’t think me having three warrants a “great” response.

So, I tried another scenario:

Kenny (signing and speaking): Where do your kids go to school?

Guest (speaking only): They attend Grandville Middle School.

Kenny (interprets): Grandville Middle School.

Everyone looks at me to see my response.

Me: I nod my head with no real expression on my face. (Thinking: OK. Let’s move on.)

I mean, who cares? He’s just being polite. Why must I have a polite and positive reaction to every single thing we talk about? It’s exhausting!

I just want to be another face in the crowd. I want to socialize with people who are involved in my hearing kids’ lives, but I can’t be expected to do cartwheels and the Victory Dance after every tidbit of information.

Yes, I used to do theatre and such, and yes, I know what being on cue means. But No, I don’t like being in the spotlight and on cue all the time.

The question is (besides asking them to write something down), how do I get involved in the conversations with hearing folk (like in a group) who are standing around gabbing? Kenny interprets and that helps break the barrier down, but then everyone wants to see him sign to me and my reaction to that and that’s just annoying. That’s the word. Annoyed.

I’m a friendly person. I enjoy other people’s company, but I find socializing with hearing people who don’t sign to be just too tricky. Hey, people! Talk to me, involve me, but, please, don’t place such a huge expectation on me. I am not on cue.

BIG D / LITTLE d -- WHAT'S IT MEAN?

One of the most commonly asked questions from students who just started learning about Deaf culture is, “Why is the word ‘deaf’ sometimes spelled with a capital ‘D’ and sometimes with a lowercase? Which is it?” Good question! Especially for people like me who put correct grammar and writing skills on a pedestal.

The concept is pretty simple. The lowercase “d” is used when speaking about a person’s audiological ability to hear. For example, “That woman is deaf in one ear.” It has nothing to do with culture and ways of thinking. It’s simply a way to describe a person’s severe to profound hearing loss.

But then in walks Deaf with a capital “D.” What does that mean? Well, just because a person is deaf (audiologically speaking), does not automatically make her Deaf (culturally speaking). A capital “D” is used to indicate that a person is part of the Deaf community and has grown up in that culture. It tells people that you’re fine with and happy to be audiologically deaf and you are also involved in the Deaf Community.

Here’s a few scenarios…

John was born deaf to Deaf parents. He was raised in their culture, with their language, and is comfortable and proud to be Deaf.  John is Deaf with a capital D.

Melissa was born hearing, but, at the age of two, was stricken with meningitis, which deafened her. She had not yet started talking. Her parents were hearing, but educated themselves on how to work with a baby who cannot hear. They learned sign language, albeit English word order, and put Melissa in a mainstream classroom with other deaf and hard of hearing individuals. Melissa then grew up to be proud of her origin and is considered Deaf.

Larry was born hearing and didn’t have any problems until he turned forty-five. At that time, he was in a car accident and lost all of his hearing. He uses lipreading and speech to communicate and is isolated from the Deaf World because he feels he doesn’t belong there. Larry is deaf (lowercase), but not Deaf.

Lastly, look at Susie. She is hearing, but both of her parents are Deaf. She was raised in both the Deaf culture at home and the Hearing culture at school. However, her heart is truly in the Deaf World. Susie, although not audiologically deaf, is considered Deaf with a capital D. She is able to sign fluently and is involved with the Deaf community all the time.  She is a CODA (Child of Deaf Adults) and is culturally Deaf.

Understand?

Many people are audiologically deaf, but do not participate in the Deaf community. This happens often with Late Deafened Adults. Perhaps they don’t feel they have anything in common with those who grew up deaf, or maybe they’re uncomfortable with the notion and don’t want to accept it. Most LDAs don’t learn sign language and don’t acknowledge openly that they can’t understand you. Either way, they are audiologically deaf, but not Deaf cultured.

So, as you can see, big D, little d is not as confusing as some make it out to be.

One last thing: It is important to note that being deaf is not enough to be considered Deaf. Most who are culturally Deaf attended schools for the deaf, use ASL as their first language, and enjoy getting involved in the events.

So, which are you?

SIGNING WITH YOUR BABY -- Is It All Hype?

It seems to me that “baby sign language” (as it is often called) has been popping up everywhere I go. Being a Deaf, ASL teacher, I get asked a lot of questions about this topic. One of the most frequently asked is whether baby sign language actually works. My short answer is: Yes, it definitely works if you do it correctly. My long version would more like the following…

Just like American Sign Language, the first thing you need to take into consideration is that not all baby sign language classes are created equally. Who’s teaching it? Are they fluent in ASL? Do they use it on a daily basis? The teacher needs to have some experience on the topic. Unlike learning true ASL, it isn’t imperative that the teacher is a native signer, but they must have rudimentary ideas of what you need to equip yourself for this experience.

Another very important question, and arguably the most important question of all, is whether the class is teaching ASL signs or not. There are several classes out there that do not use actual ASL signs. They have their own system of signs, use “home signs,” or just flap their hands around and hope something impressive comes out of them. It is vital that your class teach ASL signs. Now, don’t worry about the word order if all you’re wanting is to communicate in sign with your hearing baby. Grammatical structure of ASL isn’t necessary in this situation, but all situations are different.

Of course, I do have an opinion on this matter (who, me???). I personally feel the use of ASL conceptualization is the way to go as opposed to Signing English.  I’m not talking word order here. You should be able to sign and speak at the same time, but you can’t do that if you’re using ASL. (This is only in regard to a hearing parent wanting to sign a few words with their hearing kids.) Anyway, there are several books and DVDs out there to show you how to work with your children, but some of them do not use ASL.

As a teacher, when I teach Sign With Your Baby or Toddler classes, I am certified through Northlight Communications. Sounds fancy, eh? All that means is that I use the Sign With Your Baby method of teaching. And all that means is I teach ASL signs and conceptualization. It’s what’s right. You must do what’s right in this world…OK, I got off on a tangent.

Introducing sign language to your baby can be a lot of fun, but so many people take it so darn seriously that it loses the very essence that makes it something useful. People become frustrated that they think their baby’s not picking it up fast enough or that all their hard work is for nothing. Don’t despair! It’s not all in vain. You must remember that baby’s will generally start signing around the 7^th month. Seven. Not two weeks, not two months, but seven months.

Also, if a parent is teaching their child a sign and the child starts moving his hands in an odd way whenever the subject comes up, this doesn’t mean he’s signing it wrong. They’re babies. They’re not going to sign fluently and clearly at first. Just hang on, have some persistence and know that, eventually, if you continue to sign it correctly, he will pick it up. Just be patient!

Another thing I’ve found in teaching is that most parents are so eager to start using the sign language that they want to know all of the signs now. No, not now…yesterday. They want to immediately be able to pick it up and be fluent. Come on, guys, this is just totally illogical. You don’t pick up German quickly and easily (unless you live with Helga the former barbarian), and you won’t pick up ASL that way either.

So pick out three words (MILK, MORE, EAT), and begin to sign these three words any time it is appropriate. Sign and say it clearly and try to keep it near your face. You can use these three in many situations: the baby’s hungry and wants to EAT; The baby’s drinking milk or breast feeding; The baby’s finished his food and wants MORE, etc. Just use those three. After you’re comfortable, you can start using three more. Just don’t try to cram too many signs down your baby’s mouth.

Again, I say this to all hearing parents of hearing babies. If you have a deaf child, you will want to use ASL – not baby sign language.

If you start signing as soon as your child is born, there will be no problems getting them to copy you. Just be patient and do not, under any circumstance, get frustrated with them. Another good tip is to make sure that the baby knows what you’re signing about. If you’re looking across a field at the sunset and there’s a cow grazing, you sign SUNSET and the baby sees the cow and thinks that’s what you’re signing. You have to make sure you’re clear as to what you are expressing.

Another great way to teach sign to your baby would be through music. If you go to the Sign2Me/Northlight Communications site, they sell a CD called “Pick Me Up” that has the signs and the songs together. No, this isn’t a commercial. I personally think it’s a little expensive, but it’s one of the best ones out there.

Know your baby or toddler. Know their personality. Know how they learn. Experiment. Play. And just, generally, have fun. This is supposed to be a fun experience for everyone. And, believe me, the day your baby signs MORE to you after finishing his mashed carrots will be one of the most memorable ones in your life!

TELL ME YOUR SECRETS -- A Deaf Person's Lack of Privacy

The Deaf Community is a tight-knit group in which deaf and hearing alike can get together and socialize. The hearies in this group consist of many different people, not the least of which are the interpreters in any given area. 

As a member of the Deaf Community, I often find myself friends with the very people who provide interpretation for my appointments, entertainment, education, etc. That, in and of itself, is great! Any person I can get to tolerate me enough to have a conversation, is more than welcome to come my way! And there are some awesome interpreters around here. Oh, don’t get me wrong; there are a few doozies….

I once went to see a doctor and the interpreter couldn’t understand my signing or keep up with the doctor’s speaking. The doc and me ended up writing back and forth while the ‘terp sat there and watched/read. Wow! And she got paid for that?? But that’s another blog entry all together….

Anyway, it seems to me a little unfair and awkward that interpreters in my area know so much about my private life via ‘terping for my appointments. And, believe me, my private life is frightening at times. Heck, I’m frightening at times.

But there’s one particular aspect of my life that I don’t really want to share. But, because this is a blog of my experiences, I’m just going to open myself up here to say that I am disabled because of a severe mental illness. Yes, I’m stone deaf, too, but that doesn’t strike me as a disability when compared to what I have to go through because of a brain disorder.

So, this morning, I wasn’t doing very well. OK. I was doing terribly! I had an emergency appointment to see my psychiatrist and there was, of course, an interpreter scheduled. I definitely have a first choice in interpreters, but sometimes that person isn’t available and, today, that was the case.

One of the effects of my condition is that it becomes difficult for me to show expression in my face. My voice becomes monotone and quiet (so I’m told), too. It’s a total 180 from what people usually see in me. Usually I’m full of zest and friendly and chatty. I usually take care of my appearance, wear clean clothes, and put on make up when I have an appointment. But, because I’m relapsing, I did none of that today—well, this week, in fact.

I shuffled (literally) into the office lobby, registered, and sat down.  My interpreter arrived about two minutes after I did and I could tell she was in a good mood and ready to talk about our latest adventures. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even look at her. I just sat there, husband beside me, staring into space. Barbie (the ‘terp) was a little put back. However, I will say she was totally professional and kind about the situation.

When it came time for me to talk with my doctor for a medicine change, I had to relay information about my condition and recent experiences to him. This is something very personal and that holds a great amount of stigma. I haven’t shared my disorder with anyone except my immediate family (husband and children). And I certainly didn’t want someone whom I love hanging out with at Deaf events, finding out how sick I am by listening to me ramble on to my doctor.

It just doesn’t seem right for an interpreter to know everything personal about me, because they’ve been at the appointments; and yet I only know what they’ve felt comfortable opening up and telling me about them. Why do they get to know it all?

I guess it’s a dilemma that will go on forever. We deafies need interpreters and, in order to understand, someone has to sit in and listen to our private thoughts and problems. Professionally, I have yet to meet an interpreter who has taken that knowledge and done something disrespectful (that I know of). Actually, that’s not true. But I’ll save that for another post, too.

However, interpreters are only human. You sit in and listen to someone talk psychotically and it’s going to affect you. You’re going to have feelings about what you’re hearing. I’m not saying everyone will harbor those feelings, but everyone will have some. ‘Terps included.

So, here I sit in my living room. After spilling my beans, my life, and my secrets, I sit here naked (metaphorically—the other option is just plain old creepy), knowing that Barbie knows my soul is warped. I’m not afraid she’ll go off and tell people. I know she won’t. But I hate the fact that she knows now and there weren’t a lot of options to stop her (or someone who was called to interpret) from knowing.

Perhaps video interpreting will become popular and I’ll have ‘terps from around the country—not people down the street that have a potluck on Memorial Day. But until then, I need to figure out how to accept that my secrets won’t always be my secrets. If I get an STD (I won’t—don’t worry), there’s going to be at least one person out there in the Deaf Community who knows, because they interpreted the appointment. And if I’m crazy, there’s going to be someone out there who knows that, too.  Check.

TO GO OR NOT TO GO --Does Inaccessibility Automatically Rule You Out?

Well, the holidays are almost over. No doubt you’ve had some interesting experiences along the way. I know I have!

We traveled from Michigan to southern Illinois over Christmas, to visit my and my hubby’s families. Being the only deaf member of both families, I knew that there would be struggles at times. Because I don’t live close by and they don’t see me very often, their signing is a little lacking (and, in many cases, non-existent), but they sure did try. For that, I was most appreciative.

I guess, since I don’t see them but every year-and-a-half or so, some of them aren’t skilled or knowledgeable in the art of inclusion as well. Sitting there, watching everyone open their presents and chatting away, was most isolative. However, it was nice just to see everyone and I tried my best not to complain.

On Christmas Eve, my mother came to me and asked if I would be willing to take my kids to see a specific movie, so my parents could have some alone time, since it was their wedding anniversary. She was going to give me the money and find out when the showing was.

”Will it be captioned,” I asked, assuming she looked into it.

“Oh,” Mom looked a little confused, as if to say, “I didn’t even think about that.”

And so I was faced with a moral dilemma. Should I take her up on the offer so she and Dad could have some alone time? Or should I politely turn down the offer and save myself from two hours of boredom? I guess there was another option…to take the kids somewhere else and they could still have their alone time without me being bored to death, but I didn’t think about that at the time.

I politely agreed to the plan and figured I might get in a good nap in the theatre. Thankfully, the weather became bad and my mother asked us not to go. But therein lies the question….

Should a Deaf or Hard of Hearing person be polite and accept an invitation somewhere they know will be inaccessible (such as a movie, wedding, or party) or is it all right to nicely refuse the offer and spare themselves a night of boredom, awkwardness, and confusion?

I think there are times when you just have to grin and bear it. If your best friend or sibling is getting married, I think there are times when you should accept and make an appearance. You don’t have to stay the entire time.  However, that leaves the question of why they didn’t think to provide an interpreter for you. Why would someone so close exclude you?

Then there are other times when you should be thinking about yourself and your stress level and such.  If you think you’ll be overwhelmed, or that the event will make you feel uncomfortable, don’t go. You could tell them you have other plans or that you’re not feeling well. But you could also go the other way and explain why you’re not interested in attending. It’s explanations and instruction like this that will help people (especially people close to you) understand the communication gap. Perhaps they need you to teach them ways to include you and make events accessible. Often, it’s just asking for what you need, but, unfortunately, there will be times when it won’t matter to the other person. This is the disappointment we should be prepared to deal with.

So, now I ask you, Readers, what you think…

Should we refuse or accept an invitation to an accessible event and how exactly would you handle it?

A DEAF PERSON'S GUIDE TO HOLIDAYS WITH NON-SIGNING FAMILY

It’s Christmas time and, chances are, you’re going to be spending some of that time around family and friends. Perhaps you’re Deaf or hard of hearing and your family is not. Perhaps those hearing relatives don’t know sign language either. What’s a deafie to do to make sure they don’t go completely berserk at this time of year?

Here, I’ve put together ten holiday tips for staying sane and making the most of your time with hearing friends and family.

1. If you're worried about getting the perfect gift for that special someone, but the thought of battling through all the holiday traffic, spending hours finding a parking place, then remember that sometimes the best gift is a simple one. You can buy almost anything online from the comfort of your own home. Gift cards are also an easy way to go. But if you really want to “shake things up,” why not give them a vibrating alarm clock? No need to wrap it. Just sneak into their bedroom at night and place the vibrating part under their pillow. Although they’re usually meant to be placed under the mattress, putting it under their pillow will give them a much deeper and immediate appreciation for what you go through to wake up in the morning.

Just sneak into their bedroom, plug it in, and set the alarm for 1 minute later. Then sit back and watch the festivities begin!

2. If the thought of a party, family gathering, or other "mandatory" social event leaves you knotted up with anxiety, plan ahead for some "escape time" for yourself. If you are suddenly feeling overwhelmed with all of the lip-flapping and none of the hand-using, do what the experts tell you to do: Hide in the bathroom. (OK, maybe the experts don’t exactly say this, but I do, so we’ll just go with it, shall we?)

Not only can you lock the door and ignore all of the knocking and hands waving under the door, but you can go through their medicine cabinet and get to know them in a more personal way. Then, once at least 5 notes have been pushed under the door to tell you that they need to go to the bathroom, you can simply flush the toilet, let the water run for 10 seconds and emerge rejuvenated and wiser to the ways the host’s family deals with medication.

3. If you’re one who can lipread a bit, it might behoove you to determine in advance what subjects will be discussed.  Try to take a moment and think about what each guest is interested in and then practice lipreading words that might be said. You never know when learning to lipread “Sheboygan” and “antidisestablishmentarianism” will come in handy.

4. Greet every family member with a hug and sign, “It’s great to see you!”  You never have to recover from a good start. Then again, if you start things off on a bad note, it might just ruin the entire visit. Do what you think is best. If you think hugging Uncle Larry, who often looks at you like you’re about to smite him down with his own deafness, would benefit you (such as scaring him so badly that he loses all blood flow to his brain and passes out---fun to watch!) then hug away. Otherwise, a nice wave across the room should suffice.

5. Whatever issues exist, it is not the fault of your nephews, nieces, and grandchildren.  So, be sure to be nice to them. In fact, it’s a well-known fact that eating at the kids’ table is much more enjoyable. Not only can you play with your food, but, if you behave yourself, you can often get a second piece of pie. 

6.  Form alliances with those you like and stay clear of the dysfunctional ones. In other words, there’s no point in hanging out with Uncle Larry if your cousin Tammy signs well (and you like her). Just think of the things you can do! You can have long, gossipy conversations in sign language and no one will have a clue. In fact, I’ve even had people tell me that it’s rude to have signed conversations in front of people who can’t sign. My response is to explain how they’re doing the exact same thing when they speak around someone who can’t hear. Helloooo!

7. Don’t expect others to be different. It’s very easy to go into a situation like this, hoping that the people you haven’t seen in a while will be more receptive to you and include you more. Unfortunately, it’s those who haven’t seen you who will probably treat you worse. Out of sight, out of mind, applies to a person being deaf as well. So, don’t get your hopes up regarding people changing. Try to change your own attitude and let the ignorance of others roll off your back. (Easier said than done.)

8.  Keep busy! If you’re at a party and you feel bored or left out, find the host and ask what you can do to help. Whether it’s washing dishes or changing diapers, there’s sure to be something to occupy your time. Give it a try! If it doesn’t help, at least you can know that you helped someone else out that day.

9.  Use laughter and humor to take off the pressure. This is probably the most important tip of all! Everyone needs a sense of humor, and us deafies need it the most. Instead of focusing on why you’re unhappy or feeling excluded, try to think of things that are happening and what is funny about them.  So, you’ll be off in the corner laughing to yourself. So what? They already think you’re a freak because you’re deaf. Mental illness isn’t that far a step now, is it? 

10. Make an exit plan and use it. Escape, flee, run for the hills, hightail it out of there…anything you have to do to make it all go away. As soon as you’ve had enough, it is OK to tell people that you need to leave. Don’t stay until you’re so stressed you want to vomit in Uncle Larry’s shoes. He probably won’t notice it anyway. So leave. You may never enjoy these family gatherings, but, if you leave before total insanity has set in, you just might be able to find something good that came out of it.

BAGELS AND BABES: BONDING WITH MY HEARING CHILDREN…KIND OF

“Bagels and Babes” is a special time at my kids’ school, where they invite the mothers to come out and bring all their children for a breakfast of…wait for it….bagels for the babes (babies, kids, short people). I, ever the wanting-to-spend-time-bonding-with-her-kids-type mother, decided that this year, we would indeed attend.

I’ve never been very good at estimating arrival times. I always give myself way too much time to get there and then drive like a bat-out-of-hell, only to arrive 45 minutes early. This morning, I did better. I was only a half an hour early. Hey, it’s a step in the right direction.

So, when we pulled up in our van that desperately needs a new furnace and some shocks, we were all a little beat up and ready to snack. Unfortunately, we were the only ones in the parking lot and the only snack I had in the car was a half-eaten Snickers bar with fuzz stuck to it. This surprised me. Not because it was gross or the only thing in the car to eat. By why in the world would anyone only eat half a Snickers bar? That’s just insane.

I had Mollie, my oldest, run into the school to see if we were allowed in yet. We were. So I bundled up my nerves, grabbed my purse, and headed for the school gym, which would double that morning as the cafeteria.

We were, in fact, the first people there. Well, the first people not setting up, there. The woman behind the breakfast table waved a hearty hello and shouted something to me that seemed pleasant. She could have been saying, “You guys sure are too fat to be arriving so early for food. Can’t you starve a little and give the hungry kids of the world something to chew on for once,” and I wouldn’t have known the difference.

I gave my usual, “Hi! Do you need any help,” only to be answered. Now, why did I ask a question when I knew I wouldn’t know what in the world the answer was? It is a terrible habit I have. Perhaps it’s just me wanting to feel the vibrations of my own vocal cords. I talk quite a lot, actually. I talk to fill up the air, knowing that I sound like some poor, dying animal on the side of the road. But poor, dying animal sounds is better than nothing, right? I think that may be debatable.

Thankfully, she shook her head as she answered. Even though I realized the answer was no, I did happen to glance at my 10-year-old, Natalie, who, by the way, is the second most fluent signer in the house (behind me, of course), and she interpreted that the woman had been there for 20 minutes and was all set up. Hmmm. If only I would have driven a little faster and met my usual 45 minutes-early time pattern, I could have lent a hand. Alas, all I could lend was my mouth and my stomach at this point.

After a couple of minutes of very awkward silence…well, awkward for the woman (everything is silent to me)…I decided to start digging into the donut holes on the far right of the table and a glass of hot chocolate, located in the middle.

I was so involved in decided which hole would be the least caloric with the most taste, that I failed to realize that more people had accumulated in the gym for the festivities. So, when I grabbed the two holes I’d decided on, I moved directly back toward the middle of the table to pick up a glass of hot cocoa. Unfortunately, someone else had already picked up theirs, so, when I moved to the left, not looking at where I was going, I hit the woman on her arm and it sent the hot beverage flying.

“Oh, my gosh! I am SO sorry!! I didn’t even realize you were there,” I spat out as I observed where the glass and its contents were going to land. Thankfully, it wasn’t on another person. What’s a wet wall at 7 AM, anyway? All was OK—Except the fact that the woman, who had politely smiled off the collision, had decided to start a conversation with me. She began by introducing herself. I think. Her name was Felicity or Barbara or Veronica. Maybe it was Diandra. Could have been supercalifragiliciousexpialadocious for all I knew. But, because I had absent-mindedly left my paper and pen in the van, I smiled and introduced myself and shook her hand.

She talked and laughed. I laughed and smiled. She talked some more. I nodded. She jabbered on as she started to eat her bagel, which was smothered in cream cheese. (I know this because she ate and talked at the same time.) I smiled and tried not to gag at the grossness. I quickly looked around the gym for one of my three children. Perhaps they could give me an excuse to get away from this bevy of crumbs and saliva and confusion. Nope. They were all busy with their own friends. So, I did what any other person would do in this situation: I created a new child. A fictitious child. A child who was always in trouble and was making a ruckus waaaaaaay on the other end of the gym.

“Sorry, but I have to go. Bartholomew is always making a fuss. I need to make sure he hasn’t maimed or killed anyone yet. It was nice to meet you.” I went to leave and the woman with her mouth full spat a few crumbs at me as a goodbye and went about making small talk with another poor victim.

After that…er…situation…I decided that maybe I should eat my holes and drink my chocolate and just sit somewhere. I did so. I acted like I was totally engrossed in the origami book my son has asked me to hold.  I’d never found a paper crane so interesting! When I was done with my food and realized that my kids didn’t even know I was there anymore, I went about getting ready to leave. After all, a mother was about to give a presentation on the importance of including your children in your every day activities. Definitely not something I wanted to sit through in silence.

I left. I left knowing that, even though they didn’t give me the time of day, I’m sure my kids appreciated my effort to spend a little extra time with them. I left knowing that I had done my job and shown my children a little extra love. I left knowing that some people just haven’t a clue about the proper eating habits of not talking with your mouth full!!!!! …Ahem…. And I left knowing that I had a half-eaten Snickers bar in my car if I crashed in the snow on the way home.