Archives for January 2001

Hearing mother, deaf father in custody battle

Originally appeared in Silent News, January 2001.

One says it’s because he’s deaf. The other says it’s because of competency issues.

Either way, it’s plain that the battle is far from over.

Jason and Loura Hurdich met online about two years ago. They started dating, and got married. Jason, 26, is deaf, and Loura, 23, is hearing. She knew no American Sign Language (ASL) when they started dating. “He opened me up to a whole new world that I would have never seen. I learned ASL from him, and about Deaf culture. He invited me into the Deaf community, where I met a lot of wonderful people,” Loura said in an e-mail.

They had a son together named Nathan. However, things didn’t work out between them, and they separated.

Now Loura is suing for full custody rights, with minimal visitation rights given to Jason. Currently, Jason has joint custody with visitation privileges two weekends a month along with alternate holidays.

“The court has questions whether a Deaf person is capable of caring for a baby overnight or extended visitations,” Jason, who lives in Boston, wrote in an e-mail. “When [Loura] left me, she questioned my ability of waking up at night with baby criers and strobe light flashers.”

Loura, however, insists this isn’t the issue. “The upcoming court date is about personal and private issues, not about deaf issues.” She declined to comment further on this case.

In a petition to the court dated Nov. 7, Loura said that “when Jason Hurdich visited with my child earlier this month, he told me he did not know how to take care of the baby. He also said he did not think he was going to have to take care of him by himself.” In this petition, Loura, who lives four hours away in Fort Edward, N.Y., asked that Jason’s visitation rights be reduced to unsupervised visitation for up to three hours at a time or supervised day visitation “in order to keep the child safe. The child should be at least 18 months old before he stays overnight with the father. In addition, the father should not leave the child with a babysitter at any time.” The petition also asked that Jason provide 72-hour advance notification if he wishes to exercise visitation, and have a TTY with him when visiting with Nate.

Jason said, “I told the court back in September that [Massachusetts Commission for the Deaf and Hard of Hearing] had bought me a vibrator, strobe lights. That’s two sets of equipment. That did not satisfy her.” MCDHH then provided Jason with two more sets of equipment, including a vibrator and pager. Jason said almost unbelievably, “It’s too ridiculous. I’m sure the room will be fired up.”

The babysitting issue seems to be another area of concern for Loura. According to her petition, Jason stated that he would leave Nate with a babysitter if Loura was unable to let him bring Nate back a day early. Jason said, “The babysitter was a suggestion that we both agreed upon. I had to leave early one day, and she thinks I would hire someone from online. I told her I wasn’t that stupid. I would never leave my son with a stranger – no way!”

A licensed social worker with the Freedom Trail Clinic in Boston wrote in a letter to the court, “Mr. Hurdich has been under my care…There is no evidence of psychosis nor does he have impaired judgment that would demonstrate an inability to care for his son. In fact, Mr. Hurdich has reported that he loves his son and understands the tremendous amount of responsibility involved as a father in being there physically and emotionally in his son’s life. In my clinical opinion, there is no evidence that would concern me in Mr. Hurdich’s ability to provide and care for his son.”

Jason has collected over 15 testimonies from different individuals commenting on deaf parents raising hearing children. Many of them are from children of deaf adults, or deaf parents. All testify to the capabilities of a deaf adult taking care of a hearing child.

The social worker also wrote, “It would be truly a loss for Nathan to not have the privilege of continuing his relationship and bonding with his father in a normal and healthy way.” The next trial date is set for Jan. 8.

Copyrighted material. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

Deaf and hearing prisoners learn about ASL poetry

Originally appeared in Silent News, January 2001.

Napanoch, NY – He stood in front of his peers, and created a poem out of the “S” handshape. He began with the birth of his daughter, and ended with being behind bars and becoming free.

A powerful message, especially coming from a deaf inmate incarcerated at the maximum security Eastern Correctional Facility in the scenic Catskills Mountains.

Peter Cook, nationally renowned American Sign Language (ASL) poet, along with his Flying Words Project partner Kenny Lerner, were invited to the Eastern Correctional Facility to give a three-day workshop to approximately 20 deaf prisoners on Nov. 28-30. The workshop, which focused on ASL poetry, culminated with a performance given by both deaf and hearing inmates to a diverse audience on Nov. 30, including Eastern Superintendent David Miller and Silent News.

This workshop, one of the first of its kind, came from an idea that Janine Pommy Vega had. Vega, one of the infamous Beat poets who has been associated with Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac of the 1960s, had been working with hearing prisoners at the facility for several years, hosting poetry writing groups and even releasing a book, Voices Under The Harvest Moon. Vega learned from two inmates that there was a large deaf population at the facility. She began wondering if they couldn’t, too, benefit from a similar program. “I thought of their situation [of being deaf inside a prison], like being a ghetto inside of a ghetto. Any communication that bridged the gap between them and others would be a positive thing,” Vega said.

After some investigation and two years of trying to obtain a grant, Vega came to invite Cook and Lerner, who had already done some work with hearing prisoners at other facilities in the country.

Cook and Lerner arrived with very basic goals. “My main goal was to give the Deaf prisoners an opportunity to have a good time by playing with ASL. Also I had a hidden agenda that whatever they created and the other inmates, especially hearing inmates, would witness [the ASL] work and the interactions involved in the workshop would bring a new level of respect,” Cook said.

Lerner added, “Our goals were to teach the tools of techniques and literary devices that can be used in ASL poetry, and to build some bridges between deaf inmates and hearing inmates.”

Deaf prisoners learned how to use handshapes, humor, emotions, and life experiences in the workshop. They also worked together in groups to give both individual and group ASL poetry, both deaf and hearing. A common thread seen in many of the poems at the performance was quite personal themes. Lerner said, “A large number of the pieces they came up with seemed to center on freedom and children. Freedom is an obvious goal, but it was still striking to see it. Also, many of them had poems about children – themselves as children, parents whose children are behind bars, parents behind bars whose children are out there in the world – the people left behind.”

The performance opened with a welcome speech by Vega, who described a dream she had the night before about the performance. “When we witness someone communicate, really express something they’ve created or remembered, we are touched in the same way. In a way you could say every time we are touched, we are transformed.”

After more welcoming remarks from Superintendent Miller and Deputy Superintendent Sheryl Butler, Cook and Lerner performed several segments. The deaf and hearing inmates then performed individual and group poetry. There also was an impromptu reading by Alejo, a hearing inmate fluent in ASL. He had written the poem the night before after being inspired by the workshop. He was accompanied by Cook, who provided an improvised ASL version.

After the performance, a question and answer session was held for the audience. Many of the inmates in the audience were visibly affected by the experience and performance, as were the administrators and visitors present. One of the inmates asked Cook if he attended Gallaudet University. Cook answered that he had attended the National Technical Institute of the Deaf instead, but pointed out a Gallaudet alumna in the audience. The hearing inmate mentioned that he had played football against Gallaudet, and explained to the others about how the Bison drum would always throw the hearing players off-kilt during games.

One of the night’s highlights for Cook was a revival of a classic poem. “I was touched by a Deaf Afro-American inmate retelling Martin Luther King’s famous speech at the end of the performance. This was completely impromptu.” After Cook and Lerner performed “Old Wise Com,” a poem focusing on America’s naiveness during the civil rights movement of the 1960s, Cook noticed this inmate furiously waving his hands to gain Cook’s attention during a segment where Cook showed images of blacks being attacked by cops during riots. “After I finished my poem, the inmate continued to wave his hand, and I looked into his eyes. I knew he wanted to come on stage and recite the I Have a Dream speech. He was very emotional even though he was struggling with voicing and signing the speech. His face showed everything,” Cook remembered. “Imagine a Deaf Black man incarcerated in a maximum security prison telling us about that speech.”

“Any hearing person in the audience would have, it seems to me, been struck with the range and liveliness of signing as a language. The deaf were presented with more options for expression. This can only serve the community as a whole,” Vega said. “Communication is the glue that holds society together.”

Voices Under The Harvest Moon can be purchased through Small Press Distributors in Berkeley, CA. People outside the Bay Area may call 800-869-7553, or fax orders to (510) 524-0852, or e-mail orders@spdbooks.org.

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Editorial: Things aren’t always what they seem

Originally appeared in Silent News, January 2001.

On Nov. 30, I had the opportunity to take a scenic drive up to the Catskills Mountains to the Eastern Correctional Facility in Napanoch, N.Y. Eastern is a maximum security prison located inside of a beautiful castle-like building.

Peter Cook and his Flying Words project partner, Kenny Lerner, had been hired to do work with deaf inmates at the prison — about 20 of them — along with hearing inmates. Peter and I had discussed the possibility of my going with him and observing the workshop proceedings. However, two days before I was scheduled to go, I found out I hadn’t received the security clearance necessary to attend the workshops,  but I could attend the performance that night.

I arrived a little early, so I stopped at some diner off Route 209. After having my usual diner grub, I decided to go ahead and arrive at the prison even though I was 45 minutes early. I sat in the lobby and waited. It was just like any state facility: old, standard linoleum floors, painted brick walls, and drab fluorescent lights.

Finally, Peter and everyone else arrived. We all got checked over by the guards, then walked down to the big auditorium that the performance was being held at. Peter and I discussed about how impressed we were with the size of the auditorium, and how we had mistakenly assumed we’d be in some stanky, small cafeteria room for the performance.

I came in that evening knowing that these inmates were rapists, robbers, murderers — all the people we love to hate in everyday society. These are the people who we read about in the newspapers or see on TV. I had also done some work with inmates in the past as a deaf interpreter. I expected the deaf inmates to be cliquish, rough, and hardened. I was actually a bit intimidated walking down to the auditorium, even though I was with a large group of people.

After a while, the deaf prisoners arrived. And this is where my preconceived notions crumbled away.

The inmates were so nice, so respectful. I was blown away by their desire to make me feel comfortable around them. Peter had filled me in on the three-day workshop, and I was anxious to see it all come together at the performance. There were some inmates that struck me with their individual characteristics.

Alejo, a hearing inmate who signed extremely well, struck me with his serene spirit. He was very friendly, very charming and looked very young. I gasped when he told me he had been in jail for 15 years and had about 3 years to go — and I thought to myself, how old could he possibly be?! This man looked so young, though the peaceful look in his eyes almost gave away his age. I also wondered to myself what crime he had committed, but didn’t dare ask (I wanted them to know that they could be viewed as the people they were, rather than as criminals). I later found out from doing a search on the web that he had committed murder in the second degree along with robbery, and that he was 38. This meant he had been in jail since the age of 23.

Robert, a 6’4″ deaf inmate jailed for robbery, anxiously told me about how he was being released on Valentine’s Day. One of the most outspoken and energetic members of the group, he appeared very intelligent and knowledgeable. He also mentioned a letter he and another inmate had written to Dear Stella a while ago.

David, a hearing inmate, kept running around making sure everyone had drinks and food during the intermission. He was bashful about his signing skills, and giggled when I complimented him on his efforts. David was so concerned about making sure everyone had gotten a large piece of the cake given out, and about keeping the floor and seats clean.

There were also Frank and Joseph who gave me copies of songs they had written, in hopes of finding deaf rap singers who could help them bring these songs to life.

I genuinely liked these inmates. I laughed and joked with them. At the same time, I kept thinking, “These people are supposed to be bad people, horrible people. They’re not supposed to have families and friends.” I also kept reminding myself that they broke the law, and some even caused others to lose their lives.

After the performance, a group of us went out to eat. Peter and I kept talking about how amazing this whole experience was — even more so for him having worked with them over three days. One thing we kept saying was, “They were so normal!” I told Peter I felt as if I had been at any deaf event, just chatting with them about everyday events. One of the prisoners even asked me, “Is it true some guy got killed at Gallaudet? That’s so sad!” and began an animated discussion with two other inmates about the terrible nature of the Plunkett murder.

And these are hard-core criminals we’re talking about.

It really confuses me that I could have compassion for these kind of criminals, because they were so…well, ordinary. They have victims who suffered from their crimes. And they’re paying their debt to society. But I actually walked away from this night rejuvenated, with hope. This was the first time I believed in the idea of programs like this actually affecting criminals. I’ve long scoffed at programs like this — thinking that our taxpayers’ money could be used better. But here I was: an everyday citizen, having been renewed by a group of criminals’ expressions.

I’ll end with a poem written by Alejo that appears in Voices Under The Harvest Moon, a collection of Eastern inmates’ poetry. This poem now hangs on the wall in my office.

Sing Sing Sits Up The River

How alive,

the rhythm that waves move at,

it’s as though they’re breathing,

in and out,

like seasons change, nature

itself inhales and exhales a spirit

that air too breathes

almost human and kind,

how the wind comes to visit me,

blowing past curls of razor wire.

Rows & rows of it – razors

wrapped around the top of

electronically juiced fences

intended to shock

until they kill.

Yet the wind still has not abandoned our visits,

even after having been cut a million times,

the wind bleeds, we become blood brothers

How humane and touching

That the bars feel the openness,

the freedom outside, the space beyond

the other side of where I stand – Upstate New York.

Where underground railroads once ran & ran

cold, tired & hungry in the night

but can’t stop

gotta keep movin’

gotta get to a Black freedom

where now prisons are built in the hills,

how thoughtful.

How sparrows still remind me there’s a spirit

free. And that it breathes.

Even where winters are the coldest
& holidays are just a thing from

another life.

Even in this cold that burns,

the sun still kisses my forehead

as if I were as pure

as a day breastfeeding in my mother’s arms.

How unimaginable,

how freedom comes alive

Touching the sun

between bars.

Alejo Dao’ud Rodriguez

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