I watch
as the tide laps up
on the sands of the shore
gently petting
tracing an impression of itself
on the suface
of the earth,
cool
and calm.
The sand drinks in
the shimmering wet
with a sparkling smile
slowly slipping
into the blue
under the coaxing caress
of the sea.
I follow the sand
with my eyes, to the horizon–
There
is the ocean
in the arms
of the earth.
Recently, a new and wonderful friend of mine sent me this prompt in an email. At first I didn’t know what to do with it and I let it sit and marinate a while. At some point I was having an experience in which I was…mm let’s say aiding someone’s edification on queer-ness–yeah–and her prompt came into my head, and I realized some piece of the answer. I am so grateful for the frame it provided. Here it is:
“If God was showing off with you as the handiwork, what would unfold for you? Now?”
–Jianda Monique
My skin
Would blossom
Into painful irritated blooms–
Pink asymetrical spirals–
And hummingbirds
Would sip blood nectar from my swollen ovaries
Gorging themselves
With the fruits
Of this laborsom love.
Weakening
I would wander
Offering fertile fluid to hungry pollinators–
Striped and feathered followers–
Heavy with the weight
Of flaccid dreams;
They, in partaking
Would enlighten
And disperse.
My weight
Would diminish
And my bliss rise
Through the perforated membrane
Of my being
Until one day,
Well known by many yet wholely unseen,
My body
Would cease
To survive
The insatiable need
Of lost
Well-meaning
Birds.
If ever I loved you: You are in my veins. We have traded cells--a filament of my heart wrapped somewhere 'round your bones. I sometimes feel your heart beat. It tickles me behind the ear or scratches my finger tips--a tingling sensation. It catches me off guard, makes me blink. I send you love, joy, sorrow. Maybe you don't feel it. When you die, a piece of me will ache. Forever. I wish sometimes that I could gather all my pieces together and bind them in the shape of myself. But, this would only serve to jail them--and me. So, I am destined to lay--splayed open and bleeding--submitted to the frailty of love. Each capillary cut or broken: a nagging bruise, a painful ache. Each artery joyful and flowing: a life force. Such abundance eases the pain of loss. Yet, My heart lie open, trying to breathe air.
Hello again it has been quite a while, and now this rambler is on a mission!
I am in the process of establishing in the Seattle area, a cohesive network of qualified and committed American Sign Language interpreters prepared to work with grassroots social justice organizations in the movement for collective liberation. Over the course of the last several months I have been inspired by–among other catalysts–the Coalition of Anti-Racist whites in Seattle, #Black Lives Matter, INCITE!, and many of my magnificent and powerful friends both Deaf/Hard of Hearing (HH) and hearing (that’s what a person who is not D/deaf is called ;-), to start my work on this project. Accessible opportunities for solidarity in the movement are long past due, and it is a matter of accountability on the part of radical hearing and deaf interpreters that we provide access to a diversity of experiences. Out of these motivations and a strikingly conducive and encouraging grassroots climate, comes the beginning of the organization currently entitled Interpreters for Social Justice, Seattle. If you want to be a part of powering this organization as an interpreter, organizer, or in any other capacity you feel compelled to contribute, I would love to hear from you!
This organization will begin the process of revitalizing reciprocity on the part of Seattle interpreters, specifically in areas of great need with few ties to signing culture. I hope that it will be a step on the road to making actions like the rallies and protests in solidarity with Ferguson readily accessible to the Deaf community and building strong relationships between Deaf and hearing activists. At the moment access to these events in Seattle is reliant upon happy accidents like the one I experienced on Tuesday Nov. 25th. I was strongly compelled, for my own reasons, to attend the march and rally in solidarity with Ferguson in the streets of Seattle organized by NAACP and United Black Clergy. A Deaf/HH friend and excellent radical disability justice activist, also autonomously attended; we connected at some point during the day and realized we would both be participating. Luckily enough, after a period of confusion and scuffle–you know, the usual standing on things up high waving at strangers, signing to…nobody–we were able to locate one another and I was able to ask my sweetie (a hearing non-signing rad activist) to relay the speeches to me, so that I could interpret the information. In many ways it was a beautiful moment of resourcefulness and solidarity. Ultimately, it is a testament to the severe lack of reliable interpreters for ongoing resistance and radical movements across the country! How many Deaf/HH folks who wish to stand in solidarity with the Ferguson protests forgoed this rally and many others because they knew they would be able to access neither the motivating and meaningful speeches nor essential instruction and dialogue at the action? Deaf/HH folks cannot generally attend a public rally, protest, or other grassroots action with any kind of assurance that they will have communication access, even those who have close and politically active friends who are interpreters, cannot rely on this kind of serendipity.
As a field, American Sign Language interpreting is transitioning from the friends and family model into an era of the professional interpreter. We are increasingly adopting what we call the ally model of interpreting and yet as our profession grows I see diminishing numbers of sign language interpreters working in spaces where they are not paid. I would caution that coming out of a period characterized by strong personal relationships and now pushing a work model invoking the ally (not only as a practice but as a noun or identity) in a profession which hosts much fewer of these close relationships, we run an increasing risk of encouraging the ideological myth of altruism. There are many of us who, upon a thorough self-examination will discover that we believe the work we do to be radical: a form of political or social reform affecting the fundamental nature of an oppressive system. But the systems which have been accessed are largely the institutions which reproduce the same systemic oppressions that disempower Deaf, Queer, Disabled people and People of Color. Between 1970 and 1990, as the right to communication access hung in the balance around Rehabilitation Act and Americans with Disabilities Act, the participation of interpreters in the movement may have been a radical act of solidarity. The success of this movement was the result of tireless work from Disability Rights communities and Deaf communities in Solidarity and resulted in a reformation of communication access nationwide.This access was hard won and a serious milestone for Deaf/HH access equality. It also began a period of secure paid work for ASL interpreters. What is radical or progressive even, about getting paid $55/hr (oh shit, they** said it…and that’s on average) to work for the state, or corporations? We are becoming increasingly commodified and therefore a functional cog in the machinery of capitalism, reinforcing its hold on the vital resources of our planet and its human resources, now including communication access.This is not to say that our work is not valuable, it truely* is and we do deserve to be compensated. However, if we are truely revolutionaries; if we believe that our state has been corrupted by corporate interest and capitalist greed which subjugates the underprivileged and reinforces existing hegemonic power structures; if we desire the destruction of this broken system and revival of our society; if we believe in the untapped power of the enlightened masses, we cannot allow for our institutionalized work to outweigh the need for radical access! No one provides financial assistance for hiring (increasingly expensive) interpreting services for grassroots action against institutionalized racism, ableism, sexism, audism, continue the indexing… Access must be made available and apparent to underserved organizations, movements, and people who desire and deserve solidarity with Deaf/HH communities and do not have the means to pay. Our relationships with hearing organizations doing a diversity of radical work–some of which is familiar to the Deaf community and some of it quite novel–is tenuous at best. Those relationships can often be most effectively accessed through an interpreter! It is our responsibility as hearing individuals who sign and who cultivated our marketable skills in the hands of the Deaf community (quite literally), to make access available in these spaces. This is the mission I am on: the formation of Interpreters for Social Justice, Seattle hopes to cultivate meaningful relationships with organizations doing radical work in Seattle and connect these organization with resources and services necessary to begin the work of coalition-building between organizations run by People of Color, Queers, women, Disabled/Crip people, hearing interpreters and the Deaf/HH community!
So, if this post has made you think, opened your eyes to an opportunity you didn’t know existed, made you angry, made you hopeful, or told you all the things you already know–contact me! We are moving now, gathering motivated minds and hands Deaf and hearing alike and moving out into the streets with these organizations. Let us know you want us, or want to be one of us, reclaim your power by making access a reality and giving hands to all voices in the movement for collective liberation!
This post is a brief and passionate display of my intent and energy. It is by all means open to your criticism, questions, and other feedback and is by no means perfect or comprehensive. I welcome discussion, questions, ideas, and refutations of all kinds. Please be respectful of those who may read your comments and be aware of using explicit or provocative language or subject matter which may be triggering to your audience. If you are interested in joining this group in any capacity, you can contact me at socialjusticeterps@gmail.com.
*don’t question my spelling of ‘truely’ friends, that’s how I spell truely. It’s prettier ;p
**gender neutral pronouns (for me!) thanks. confused? look it up. And/or look for future posts on personal pronouns.
I will leave a legacy
NOT of my body or mind but
Of my spirit.
I will NOT be your architype:
The White Woman — head, eyes,
Heart throbbing… bleeding.
I am my own self:
Caring, critical, mutable, flawed.
Real.
Used, for years by the bodies-NO-
minds of men
For their ends:
Marriage$ for all [men] equal
Under the eyes of…
*[white men, moneyed men]
YOU pay for your reformation.
MY formation does not need
Reification.
I will leave a legacy
Of neither money nor blood.
I will build a legacy with Love.
So, at the risk of exposing myself to new friends and lovers as the sentimental and melodramatic girl I am and in the spirit of my recent experiment in my own vulnerability, I embark upon another long delayed and very personal post. I never can seem to keep up with myself on a blog. I find that my meandering intellectual interests and ramblings are often also my most surreptitious, for they feel almost spiritual. I feel a bit exposed in expressing personal theory online–it lends itself to the illusion of permanence or importance, neither of which do I seek for myself or my ideas. Still, I do desire the sort of fantastic sense of correspondence I get in writing and then publishing these posts. While importance is of no importance to me, dialogue and exploration is. And so, here is where I timidly seek support, criticism, and yes probably validation in the form of discourse. -Sigh- just a short reflection on why my blog has been on the back burner for the last YEAR!
In any case, being polyamorous has been the most recent emotional and intellectual adventure in my life, which may also contribute to my lack of blogging since this exploration has been significantly more personal than previous. It has become increasingly more real and practical over the last couple of years. Conversations with poly and monogamous friends and acquaintances have shaped my thoughts and actions as have romantic and near romantic encounters with individuals all over the poly-graph -teehee- (by which I refer to a very real if comical vendiagram to which I was recently introduced). I have encountered countless reactions to and interactions with my polyamorous declarations from varied individual positions over the past several years and in recent months–in part due to these communications–the importance of my identification with poly inclinations has become abundantly clearer. I’m certain that I will have much more to say on this subject as a read and explore further my own poly disposition, but I suppose this post is a sort of coming out for me. The following are a couple of paragraphs pulled directly from my personal journal which are likely the culmination of many years of monogamous, and non-monogamous relationships, observations of my own and others’ blunders, and finally inspired by recent experiences which have confirmed for me the real possibilities of a polyamorous life. An epiphany of sorts. 🙂 I often think before I publish something like this that it needs to be annotated: definitions, expositions and explanations, caveats etc. Today I think I shall submit it in its raw format, perhaps understandable as free verse; because frankly, it’s just how I feel, and that discovery has been profound.
I believe that the love we make between us has too much energy to be contained by the boundaries of a (single; traditional; defined; etc.) relationship. Its energy is so expansive and infectious it must be shared with everyone in our lives. In sharing this we allow for it to grow to its full potential, reproducing itself exponentially and creating love and joy in our own lives as well as in our communities and the world.
This is because the love we make is not a novel creation, it is old. Its source is as unknown to us as its end, and I believe it to be cyclical like all energy and matter in our known universe–constantly recycling itself in different forms. Therefor the only way to make sustainable love is to continue to return it to its source. This then, results in an individual as well as cultural state of flux: energy looking and moving inward, then outward and inward again until we reach a state of utter bliss where all is one and this love we seek, discover, and share is pervasive–ubiquitous.
So, I think I’m finally going to start writing again! It is certainly the result of many factors all of which I probably cannot name or do not recognize. One of which, I’ll say, is certaiiy the recent activity on the blogs and vlogs of both friends and strangers. Some of Those wonderful folks are linked to in my side bar. Give them a look-See!
while there are no doubt dozens of unsung motivators behind my writting in general, there is no question what sparked this particular entry: frustration! Any bicycle commuter will tell you that becomming one, is a lifestyle choice. It’s not for everyone. It requires a person to be particularly punctual–you can’t make up 30 minutes in 10 on your bike; resilient–that hill that kicked you in the pants yesterday and made you change your shirt before stepping into the office, it will again today; patient–it’s a long ride, but not only that, cars do not necessarily know how to use a round about or understand when a cyclist has come to a complete stop in order to give them the right of way at a four way stop. A cyclist must be prepared for flat tires, rain, sun, traffic accidents, and oh yes…work. So why do it?
Oh! Let me count the whys! Aside from the fact that it allows a world citizen to avoid the unpredictable and unrealistic price (both financial and ethical) of gasoline, and participation on the bottom tier of a world wide Ponzi scheme…-ahem- not that I could rant for hours on this subject… there are many reasons to ride (or take some other form of kinetic mode of transportation) to work. It builds character and promotes responsibility (see above character requirements for a commuter), it promotes fitness and in conjunction with healthier eating habits (I promise riding with a big ol’ doughnut in your belly is not much fun, I’ll take a grapefruit any day!), it’s financially responsible, there is a social aspect to cycling and meeting/riding with others, and oh yeah.. it’s Fun! Most cyclists will tell you that they enjoy their ride to work, this ‘terp is no exception. Waking up in the morning to the crisp coastal air, the wind rushing past my face, down into my lungs, and kick my brain with insta-oxy infusion! Shake it off, breath deep, start to feel your rhythm, settle in and enjoy. Music for some, thoughts for others, and always beautiful scenery. Perhaps the excitement of the morning commute, or more likely the still of the early morning city. Maybe the domestic suburban neighborhood, simultaneously stirring and nostalgic. For me, it’s the bay at high tide to my west, the rolling redwoods to my east and a scattering of artful abodes along a steady winding path; red, brown, green and blue are the shades of the morning.
Of course the life of a bike commuter is not all sunshine and flowers (although we like to think so). The world does not seem to understand this particular psychosis and certainly does not nourish the desire to move! Provide a small locker room for the staff and a slightly longer lunch hour giving folks the time and space to freshen up from their commute, take a walk or a ride between shifts, keep clean extra clothing, encourage your employees to commute with a cyclist reimbursement (a relatively new tax code for bike commuters and their employers) and suddenly you are equipped with well fed, intellectually efficient, happy workers rather than the lethargic sugar coated caffeine pills you would normally receive at the onset of the work week. I am not entirely certain why corporations and small businesses haven’t grasped the concept that encouraging this kind of activity before, after, during work would–to speak a bit of their language–likely result in a happier, more productive workforce with a longer life expectancy and work-life expectancy. AKA: more profit. (while I disagree with this mentality of money as an end, it seems that in some cases, this is the only way that people understand the world.– a topic for another article.)
And so, in a world consumed by greed, self-absorbtion, and convenience your average cyclist has to ask Oneself several questions daily. Some of these questions may be:
– what are my responsibilities at work today?
– will I need to change my clothes after my commute?
-if so, where at work can I do so without offending my boss and/or co-Workers?
– where can I park my bike near work? If there are no bike racks, Can I bring my bike in? lock it to a sign?
-what is the best route to work? Shoulders? traffic? distance? pleasure?
-if my employer reimburses for milage… how do I qualify? time?
Luckily for some commuters, many of these questions will have to be asked only once-Although some may be met with blank stares or annoyance at having to “accomodate” an eccentric employee. For a freelance interpreter, for whom each gig over the course of one day (maybe 2-5) may be in a different location with different requirements, travel times, co-workers, these questions repeat themselves multiple times daily. How many times am I commuting today? Is there enough time between each to bike to every location? Will there be a bus involved and what is the fare? Do I have it? Will I have time to change at each location? There is no reliable way (aside from monitoring my perspiration levels on climbs and over long distances and comparing them to google maps’ terrain layers -does it sound like I’ve tried This?;) to gauge if l will be able to wear my “work clothes” to work (imagine your interpreter walking in to your medical appointment in black spandex and a bright yellow spandex halter top!). And so I generaly do not. This of course means I’ll have to find a place to change into traditional garb before I go into my assignment. Unlike those who work in an office, I have no way of knowing if the building to which l am headed will house a bathroom in which l can change before I am expected to work. So, l will have to find a restroom to change in… okay, there’s a Starbucks on the corner maybe I can sneak in there, or a grocery store even better! Now, if there’s nothing with a sneak-able restroom I might have to ask a local business owner or just buy something, there go $2 bucks, or $5…does food count as fuel when I’m a cyclist can I put this redundant breakfast on my bill? And so I order, and slink away into the restroom clearly marked “for customer use only” and swap out my day-glow coat for a blazer, my skin tight work out top for my fitted button down, pull on my khakis over my cycling leggings…check the eyes, hair–is this a fancy one do I need make-up? think…think…stare at face…NO I hate make-up–wash hands (wait why am I washing my hands? I didn’t…-sigh-), step back out into the world. Is it me or does the server not recognize me in this outfit? I am handed my, coffee, bagel, muffin, egg, ice-cream, scone or whatever I’ve had the pleasure of splurging on today, and I’m out the door. Eating…
And so it’s a bit of a circus being a cycling ‘terp. When asked what I “do” I respond, “I’m a sign language interpreter” and most people react first with confusion, recognition, an then manic hand gestures meant to mimic sign language (-cough, cough- hint hint heary friends). When people ask where I work…I tell them about my unusual, irregular, unpredictable schedule–more confusion. Then they see my neon jacket and ask: “did you bike here?” Cue image of bright green-yellow gal rolling along down the highway, upright, hands flailing in the air!! Well actually, I suppose that’s not too inaccurate. And that’s part of the fun really isn’t it.
The major struggle with the lifestyle is simply that people don’t get it. They call and ask you to work a gig that’s 20 mins after your last one and 45 minutes away and don’t seem to know that you would of course be very late for that assignment, why did they call you first? Good, now ask them if you can bring your bike into the ER, cause you already know the hospital doesn’t have a bike rack. Why are they surprised that you are asking them to call someone else and let you know if they are desperate (“I can go late if you really need someone”) They have to meet to decide if your mode of transportation is worthy of compensation. (Luckily, I work for one company with a relatively green heart!) They laugh…they question, the give advice about things they know nothing about: “you should take the highway it’s shorter”, “your commute is 45 mins”, “you should go clipless!” ok…I’m actually considering that one–he’s a cyclist at least. Perhaps one day there will be enough love for the self and health and joy that folks will make cycling, walking, running (I did this the other day, SO MUCH FUN!), boarding, skating, skipping, jumping to work the standard. Perhaps this will lead to a time ethic that reflects the needs of those who live under it rather than the masochistic desires of the money god. Perhaps one day no one will care if my clothes are yellow or black, jeans or khakis or spandex! Perhaps one day we will do what we love because we love it and the fact that we are there doing it will be enough. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…
Until then, I’ll remain the slightly eccentric, totally ecstatic circus freak on wheels! Just you try and stop me.
So, you are in a room full of RID certified interpreters awaiting a presentation by an esteemed Deaf professor. The event has been advertised as a workshop held ONLY in ASL. Sweet! GLOVES-ON READY and let’s get down to the nitty gritty of ASL as a scientific language.
Interpreter enters room (a bit early, for concern about the travel time and traffic from a few counties away): The following dialogue is in ASL if it is ALL CAPS, and English if it is not. (you’re thinking… wait why would there be English in this dialogue? Oh you weren’t? Then you won’t be surprised.)
HELLO
“Hi, oh we’re still setting up.”
FINE-FINE. ME FLOAT-OUT #Back.
“yup”
Exit me, looking rather confused. I took a little walk and got some air preparing to be indoors for the entire beautiful day (why don’t we hold meetings and classes outdoors in central and southern California where skies are so regularly blue??) and returned about ten minutes later to a room beginning to fill with other terps. Talking. I think to myself…”Okay, the workshop hasn’t started yet… the presenter… isn’t here?” I find a seat, turn to the food that has been provided, and meet someone.
HI.
HI.
YOUR NAME? (oh thank goddess, sign language!)
MARY. YOURS?
TERP-PERSON (confidentiality purposes). FROM?/Interpreter. Where you from?
(ok sim-com…)
Right, so you get the point. The presenter arrived and voices slowly turned off and I began to figuratively wipe sweat from my brow. Still, as the workshop began our attention was hailed by way of a loud voice, followed by a English/ASL introduction. Then a second set of introductions in ASL. Finally the workshop was underway. Overall, it was a great workshop. The presenter was wonderful, friendly, informative, very honest about the origins of his signs and sign choices and interested in discussion and collaboration. The audience was for the most part respectful of an ASL/Deaf space. The first question was both spoken and signed because we all faced forward and could not see the signer in the back of the classroom. I posed the second question and prior asked if I should stand or sit. The presenter said he could copy my signing and from then on this is how questions were fielded. At the break, Some of the participants simcom-ed (used “simultaneous communication” utilizing both English and ASL, generally to the detriment of one or both languages) both while talking with each other and while talking with the presenter who is Deaf. I refused to use my voice at any point during the workshop or its interim. I did not catch any grief for this, and most people I signed with reciprocated, but I certainly found myself answering spoken questions in sign a few times. As far as I am concerned the space was intended to be a Deaf friendly, or even centered, ASL dominant space. These are few and far between, and in my mind quite sacred. Everyone attending the event is presumably fluent in ASL (the workshop was provided for certified interpreters only), and the presenter is a Deaf signer, therefor there is no reason why ASL should not be the language signed.
After the break we returned to the workshop. Again, voices waned and people took their seats. The workshop continued as before. Questions were copy-signed, ASL was used. Then, we came to the practice portion. We paired up in teams of 2-3 and practiced voicing for a signed presentation. Let’s be clear, I’m not offended that we voiced during our voicing practice. At the end of each segment we were to discuss with the presenter some of the issues we encountered, suggestions for one another, questions about the lecture etc. Well, now that voices have come on… of course (in a world…dominated by English…where language is a utilitarian feat…) they like to stay that way. So… why is that?
Now, I understand that this is in fact a workshop for ASL/English interpreters and that English is a part of that space. We were interpreting in the practice either from English to ASL or ASL to English. I also understand that for the majority of people in the room English is a first language. Still, we as ASL/English interpreters who are presumably–and I recognize that this might make me seem rather presumptuous–operating under the Ally model should be allied with D/deaf people and therefor advocates for the language of the community that has so long been obfuscated, abused, and frankly oppressed by a hearing English dominant world. Of course, me being the queer lady that I am, my favorite way of doing this is by inverting the hierarchy! It’s so simple. And this is in fact the reason that the workshop exists. A little background:
I attended this workshop in San Jose because it was exceptionally pertinent to my work at present–a workshop on interpreting Chemistry held in American Sign Language. There really is no shared vernacular in ASL for scientific terminology simply because of the lack of first language users currently in the field, therefor workshops and hopefully future conferences that bring together Deaf scientists, first language users, language professionals etc. are necessary. We need to create spaces where ASL is the primary language for discussion around these topics and from these spaces the language can grow. As language grows it becomes an effective linguistic medium for teachers of science, interpreters, and mentors to D/deaf youth! Suddenly, D/deaf youth everywhere are empowered by access to knowledge in their native language, in several generations (or less) we begin to see more Deaf professionals in the fields of Biology, Chemistry, Engineering and so many other industries (why industries control our political-economy is another blog) and fields that rule our world today. You get the big utopic picture.
It certainly helped my indignation as well that I had spent my ride down to San Jose with a wonderful Spanish/English interpreter/translator and member of the organization Translators for Social Change! It’s where my head was at. And it’s true, we must start seeing language for the power it exercises in so many arenas: courts, classrooms, homes to name a few. English has colonized so many spaces whether it be terra firma, or the various other manifestations of space: epistemological, spiritual, cultural etc. Paddy Ladd describes the act of linguistic colonization as enacted upon the D/deaf community in several videos (as well as in his book The Search For Deafhood. His description of colonization in sign language is beautifully accurate and evocative. It can be glossed (written as a literal English translation) as: TAKE-OVER BODY; TAKE-OVER MIND; TAKE-OVER. And here we are, bilingual language professionals letting it manipulate this space too. A space we defined as an ASL space, a place we designated for confirmed bi-linguals and what language do we effortlessly choose: English. Now in this space, it being also a Deaf inclusive space, English also takes on functions of able-ism and/or audism, ideas also addressed by Paddy Ladd (one might argue primarily). So how does all of this manifest? Well, here we go.
So, voices have turned on and boy those powerful, hearing, primarily white, able-bodied voices carry. So, some people chose to do their debriefs with their partners in English, or simcom-ed, not sure which because mine was occurring and my attention was focused there but I heard several voices during the debriefing time. Following, our presenter attempted to get people’s attention. After the first video we watched and interpreted there was a lot of talking going on after the presenter had vied for attention. I don’t know if the voices I heard had hands to accompany them, they were behind me but I turned and waved for peoples attention. This got the attention of our presenter and he waited to see that everyone was ready before he continued with his talk and questions.
After the second practice, the same thing occurred: video stopped, people talked, this time the presenter was wary and solicited the attention of the speaking groups.
After the third practice, the presenter had given up. I could see the frustration in his face and I certainly shared it. People commented in English or with simultaneous communication cause other hearing participants to hear and respond to questions from across the room before the message could be relayed to the group or answered by the presenter for that matter. Suddenly the room is a mass confusion of hands and voices overlapping and competing for the floor in various circles as the presenter concedes to the energy of the space: ‘CLEAR ALL TIRED SINCE LONG DAY. I GUESS FINISH.’ Cut to me looking around to see if anyone caught that…
It is NOT okay with me, simply not okay, that a room full of ASL fluent signers can so easily decompose into an oppressive exclusive English space. Don’t misunderstand me here, I love English as well, it is a beautiful language in its own right but it is quite literally taking over the world. It has certainly controlled and policed the D/deaf community for generations. All of our legal documentations are in English, medical resources, teachers. A Deaf person or a Spanish speaking person or a German speaking person or Wolof, or Kiswahili or whatever other language taken to a court room would be thrust into a situation that does not have the patience or understanding for interpretation. Already individuals may not understand the charges held against them, the intent of a course as listed in the syllabus, the name of their ailment etc. and here in the face of their professional or authority they will be made to answer as though they do, as though that information had in fact been provided to them in their native language. English in this country is sacred. We cannot teach our children to speak many languages for fear of tarnishing the purity and clarity of English. -cough cough- one of the most heavily borrowing languages on the planet not to mention the most dispersed and with countless dialects. We hold the belief that there is a ‘correct’ form or English, or for that matter a correct form of language. Public school teachers is Arizona are not allowed to teach if they speak with a discernible accent! But surely, only people who do not know language can truely believe these cultural fallacies. Language is an organism, growing and dying and evolving with cultures and people and lands everywhere. But this is not how we treat it, we treat it as a tool with quintessential American utilitarianism. And so we wield this tool in spaces we have created with power. We USE English to teach our children, and no other language creating knowledge accessible only to those who use English; we USE English to build a legal system, and no other language creating a legal system that is accessible only to those who use English. I can go on and on. We have created a monolingual system and monolingual culture: mono-accessible. So this is my rant about the so-called ‘sanctity’ of language. I do not understand these rigid boundaries for appropriate behavior we construct with our world, our need for absolutes and definitive boundaries that has extended itself into the realm of language. Well, I suppose I understand it, its origins in the human psyche… only I do not feel it in myself nor do I see its utility, only its hypocrisy that in such a utilitarian culture we can advocate such rigid exclusive structures that breed distrust, misunderstanding and conflict (or to fish for some neo-librals … cost. Did I catch any?).
Now to turn an eye on the ablism and audism in this setting (how funny that this computer doesn’t have those words in its dictionary either *red squiggly lines*) we needn’t look too far. I’ll even allow that this outcome was predictable because the physical setting lends itself to oral communication rather than manual. We are in a small classroom at an institution that assumes hearing participants. The desks are arranged–certainly by necessity–in rows facing the front of the room without visibility to the back or center rows for front row participants. The lights have only one setting. There are no windows (which has interesting environmental and also psychological implications as well). This space is not naturally conducive to visual language communication. This is the world in which we live. It is not built for a variety of communication styles or languages. But, beyond that we have presenters beginning the introductions in both English and ASL. What purpose does this serve in a bilingual room other than showing deference to the dominant language of our culture and creating “more” access for the hearing audience? People speaking over one another before allowing for a signed response could be likened to interruption when viewed as an act of patriarchy: using the privilege of English (or the male voice) to gain weight in the conversation. All of these things and more manifested in this space.
Leaving a space like this I find myself further understanding the hesitation which generally meets hearing participation in Deaf events and spaces, even the participation of fluent signers as most of these individuals were. Not to criticize the workshop and its intention at all. In fact I believe that everyone at this workshop was there for a commendable purpose. I believe that everyone there had, at the very least, benign intentions. If this is the result of an event offered with the intent of empowerment or advocacy… where does that leave us? Or perhaps I misread the intentions of the space, perhaps advocacy and empowerment were not their underlying goals. In this case, I question why not! In a space that is so readily prepared to perform such a function why would a community who values empowering and advocating with and for the D/deaf community refrain from doing so? What is holding back a group of fluent signers from choosing sign language? It is with these questions I will leave you, and with a plea: if you are a a D/deaf person, interpreter, or fluent signer… lift up your hands!!
*I recognize the irony in this post. I hope to soon complete a vlog on this subject and several others. My barriers currently include: technology, fear for the loss of anonymity, space, and experience. So, I am working on overcoming those barriers. In the meantime I seek to express my thoughts and garner further opinions with my blog. Thanks for reading my ramblings! I’d love to hear yours!
Over this last weekend there manifested several instances of chaotic thought vying for a spot on this blog. There are two thought experiences that won out, their common thread: identity politics, of course!
[Warning: the following blog assumes a general acquaintance with identity politics in Deaf and Queer communities and includes some ASL (American Sign Language) glosses. Please enjoy with a grain of salt!]
Funny, you’d think by now I’d have a general grasp on the intricacies of identity having struggled with my own for several years prior to and during university and ultimately studying the stuff (hehe, as though it were a substance). The truth is that identity is fluid and especially in moving to a new place with new people and new micro-cultures… I’m finding myself having to reassert and re-examine much more regularly than prior to the move. In a lot of ways I think this is freeing and educating, not allowing me to become TOO comfortable (addressed in a bit) with any situation at any time. Traveling will do this to a person–force you to re-evaluate constantly and if you want to locate a support system or common bond to really search yourself and your experiences. If all of this has you nodding in agreement and waiting for the point well then you’ll enjoy this next bit. With that! . . .
I spent the weekend at the Seattle Deaf Film Festival (the details of that experience you’ll be able to read about on Vagabonds shortly, if you so choose), and after two rounds of films we joined a group for dinner near the University of Washington campus. The topics of the evening harkened to the film content which of course included Deaf and Queer/Trans (capitalization? hmm… future topic!) identity issues. In a conversation with Austin of ‘Austin Unbound’ I mentioned the ballots that were passed out asking the audience members to rate the films. I expressed my discomfort with the identity labels provided in the ‘who are you’ section of the ballot which attempts to glean the demographic of the audience:
After a brief lament on the insufficiency of identity labels in general I stated that I simply crossed out ‘non-disable’ and wrote in an ‘other’ box and marked it, remarking that -gloss- HEARING DIFFFERENT++ HAVE, my intended point being that simply ‘hearing’ would also be an insufficient label for the various types of hearing members of the Deaf community (topic for another blog). However, Austin’s response was at once unexpected, heartening, and intriguing: YES, LIKE HEARING-BLIND, with a thoughtful look on his face.
Hearing-Blind. Of course, what a natural parallel with the familiar Deaf-Blind identity label (silly Mary, why shouldn’t this occur to you?). But hearing people would never identify this way, certainly hearing people outside the D/deaf community would never identify as ‘Hearing’ either. Hearing is certainly, if you’ll allow the allusion to countless Deaf and disability theory writings, an invisible identity. However, unlike invisible disabilities, hearing as an invisible identity is theoretically invisible to itself; not attempting to define itself but seeking only to identify all those which it is NOT and placing itself in opposition to those classifications. This unconscious practice often results in hegemonic ideologies. This is the position of a hearing person who does not know oneself to be hearing. This is the ‘hearing’ I believe D/deaf individuals to invoke in their articulation of HEARING. Because of this, when I or someone in the community identifies me as Hearing, I only feel a separation between myself and the D/deaf individuals with whom I’m trying to connect. I do not identify with this word: HEARING. Perhaps I should? Perhaps those of us with an eye on this invisible identity should move to give it form and meaning? Are hearing and Deaf mutually exclusive identities? (Topic for another blog.)
The interesting thing for me about Austin’s effortless articulation of HEARING-BLIND is its function in obscuring the paralleled identities of DEAF/HEARING in a linguistic subversion of the existing hegemony. This instantly (and temporarily) replaces the identity Deaf as the dominant paradigm. Ultimately, this subversion simultaneously directs the Deaf identity toward the established status of… non-disabled*, and therefor requires that the hearing identity disambiguate. This is a fairly typical mobility for ‘Deaf’, indicative of its multi-faceted nature and its evolution from a finite oppositional classification to a cultural-linguistic identity label, but a refreshingly simple and relatively novel demand made upon ‘hearing’. -smile- So what the hell does hearing mean anyway!? Dumb word! (HAHA, oh the multiple turns of that phrase!)
Some concluding questions:
Would language serve more egalitarian purposes if currently invisible identities (i.e. hearing, white, straight, male) gained cognizant cultural identities effectively joining the masses of mediated and performed identities?
Or, would it be best to dispense of identity labels entirely–or at least their faithful performance–and compel individuals and communities to perform disidentification(1) practices to this end?
*How very ironic, I wonder if anyone checked both boxes? Deaf; Non-disabled…I wish everyone just checked that box!! Non-disabled… or maybe… hmmm oh what are some other fun labeling games we can play with all of that? List below please!
And so is concluded part 1 of 2. The second topic which won its place in my mind and on the blog is shortly to follow. In the meantime let’s play a game! It’s kind of like… pin the tail on the donkey. This being my first post (although I will always remain open to criticism) I’d love to hear from anyone who reads: where are my most pressing assumptions? Please, if you have questions of just want to point out what an ass if been in making a blatant assumption, post below! I have just appointed you my peer editor, thanks in advance for playing the part.
So, here it goes. My first non-travel related blog post. I have an inkling that it will in fact include tids and bits of travel but it is not the subject of the post. I have been pondering this moment for a while (as in years) but have never seemed to see the point in blogging myself… I suppose I don’t really think anyone will read it. Nor, do I think it necessary that they do. Still, without a readership why should one ‘publish’ anything? I suppose the answer is for one self. And, I suppose that several things I’ve read today or recently have started my mind spinning a little faster than my human hands are capable of pulling out along paper with pen and so the ‘seal is broken’ 😉 (that’s for Kev in case he ever reads this, and if he does he should send me a copy of that song so I can post it somewhere and link it to this page.)
If any one does find these posts worthy of skimming or studying I’ll note the following disclaimers:
Now, I’ve been told that I don’t need to be quite so apologetic, although I’m not sure I’m attempting to be apologetic. Still, I do think it is important to state my intentions even if I’m not quite sure of them just yet.
Now, here’s another reason why I haven’t started this section of my blog yet. When I started this post this afternoon I intended to follow my caveat with an actual post, which I began to compose and which itself proceeded to get away from me. I think I was a little distracted with worry around my hypothetical readers reactions. Unnecessary I suppose but at least I’ve gotten that bit out of the way and from here we can start to see some real rambles. I guess the goal of this little blurb is to start finding my new voice and just ask you (if you’re reading, which you know… you are at least at the moment) to hold on tight and get ready for the ride, ’cause it throws me sometimes too and I’ve been riding it for years.
So now I’ll settle in, write down some of the ideas that have cropped their way into my mind over the course of this lovely day and ponder which of these thoughts have reached readable. Wish me luck and hold on tight!
Restless Ramblings 