sComm: An Update

Read my original article and open letter (available in ASL and English) before reading the below.

Warning: This article includes graphic language.

In March, I wrote an article objecting to sComm’s practice of promoting the UbiDuo as a replacement for interpreters. I then wrote an open letter urging sComm to retract its statements and apologize to interpreters and the community. Several messages I sent to sComm went unanswered. Before continuing, it may help to know a bit about sComm.

About sComm
sComm is located in Raytown, Mo., just outside of Kansas City. sComm promotes itself as being deaf-owned, but in reality, it’s partially owned by Jason Curry, who is deaf. His parents, David and Emma Curry, both hearing, are the other owners. David, credited with devising the UbiDuo concept, is a well-known real estate mogul in Sedalia, Mo.; he does not sign. Emma was an educational interpreter (using Signed Exact English) at one time, but is now the vice president at sComm and is typically involved with day-to-day matters.

The start of sComm (the name stands for simultaneous communication) was discussed in an article in The ExaminersComm “applied for a National Institutes of Health grant. It took five years for the funding to come through. In 2005 the company received a $1.5 million grant.” Curry, now 46, was then working for the federal General Services Administration, and resigned to take the company forward in 2008.

Response to My Writings
After my article and open letter were released, the response was overwhelming. Message after message shared people’s heart-wrenching stories from of being forced or pushed to use the UbiDuo instead of having interpreters brought onsite, especially in hospital and government settings. Deaf Hearing Network also aired a segment featuring a woman who shared her negative experiences with the UbiDuo.

[Read more…]

Speech given at a high school in 2015

The following is a speech I gave at a public high school’s world languages ceremony in 2015. Read the article I wrote about this experience.

Language, as we know firsthand, is at the very heart of every civilization, and has been ever since the beginning of humankind. Whether it be gestures or full-blown language, language has endured changes, evolution, abuse and even death, or linguicide — and nowhere is that more evident than in signed languages.

Allow me to back up a bit and give you a bit of background. I am second-generation Deaf, which means my parents are also deaf. My husband is third-generation, so that means our four deaf children are fourth generations — and we have over 50 deaf relatives on both sides of the family in terms of cousins, uncles and aunts, grandparents and lots of other relatives I probably don’t want to meet. That translates to a long history of using sign language in our family, dating back to the early 1900s. In essence, we’ve had sign language for over a hundred years. As Deaf people, we recognize the immense value of language, and being able to connect with each other through words, spoken or signed.

Today, American Sign Language, ASL, like many other languages, is recognized on so many levels. It’s one of the fastest-growing languages in the U.S., and is believed to be the third most used language in the U.S. Sounds good, right?

Well, let me give you a bit of history. Although sign language has been around since primitive times, and the earliest recorded drawing of the fingerspelled alphabet dates back to the 1500s, it wasn’t until the 1960s that Dr. William Stokoe, a hearing man who wasn’t very fluent in sign language, did research that proved ASL was a bona fide language, separate from English.

I remember growing up telling people, and even writing in my research papers for school, that ASL was broken English, that it was abbreviated English. I can’t believe I actually said that, because this was during the 1980s and early 1990s. ASL research already existed. Why didn’t anyone tell me otherwise? Why was I never taught that ASL had its own rich vocabulary, syntax and other properties?

I’ll tell you why. It’s because for centuries, sign language has been looked upon as a language for animals, as primitive, as unsavory, and any other host of adjectives. This primarily has to do with the notion that spoken language is superior. This is only natural; anything different from us is considered strange, funny, fascinating, or even beautiful. We all experience xenophobia to different degrees. That’s why learning new languages is so important, so that we can learn about other cultures, other peoples, and each other.

The problem is that signed language is often not considered another language. Rather, people mistakenly believe it’s a basic form of gesturing, and a direct representation of English on the hands. And that couldn’t be further from the truth.

As students of language yourself, you know how challenging grammar in other languages can be. This is equally true for sign language, whether it’s American Sign Language or French Sign Language or any other signed language. As an aside, sign language isn’t universal, if you were wondering.

So, back to why nobody told me ASL was a stand-alone, distinct language from English. . . there is a long history behind this, and it involves Alexander Graham Bell. Yeah, that one. The same guy who invented our telephone, or rather, he was the first to claim the patent. It’s now known that he wasn’t actually the first inventor, but he got the patent first.

Bell was the son of a deaf mother, and is said to have been very fluent in sign language. He later married a deaf woman, who did not sign. Nobody really knows why, but Bell became very adamant that sign language was not the way go. He became a steadfast proponent of banishing sign language from all education. He also believed that deaf people should not marry, and actually was a huge supporter of eugenics, the social movement claiming to improve the genetic features of human populations through selective breeding and sterilization in order to create a superior society. He even served as president of the National Eugenics Society.

Many people find that astonishing, and I do, too. How could someone who signed fluently, had deaf relatives and was such a brilliant man have such warped perspectives? Even if times were different back then, it’s still shocking.

Bell had a pivotal role in something that has had major ripple effects to this day. He was one of 164 delegates to the 1880 International Congress on Education of the Deaf, which was held in Milan, Italy. At this conference, it was voted that sign language would be banned from education in favor of teaching deaf children to speak. Out of the 164 delegates, guess how many were deaf? Only one.

So, as a result of this ban, Deaf teachers and other deaf professionals lost their jobs if they could not speak. Deaf children were raised without access to sign language, often being punished if they even as much moved their fingers, and this lack of access caused great delays in language development, in later-life opportunities and much more. The effects are being felt even today, 135 years later — all because of the notion that spoken language is superior to signed language.

Around the country, and in many other countries, deaf schools — which are not the stereotypical institutions you think of where you “abandon” people with disabilities or mental illnesses; they’re actually beautiful, flourishing places where culture, language and tradition are preserved from generation to generation — are closing down for many reasons, but especially because of the perceived cost. More and more school districts are favoring mainstreaming because they think it saves money, when in reality, it causes a lot more harm for so many children in terms of language access. I’m not saying mainstreaming is bad; it’s not always bad. It worked for me, but I wish I knew back then what I know today.

There is also a massive spoken language — in other words, no signs — movement underway around the nation. More and more doctors are urging parents to shun sign language and to focus on spoken language. Spoken language does work for some, but not for all. What happens is that in 20 years, many of these deaf babies raised without sign language, come to the deaf community with anger, frustration and struggles because they had limited language access. This has happened time after time, and despite the most massive efforts, signed language has persisted.

With my four children — who are ages 7, 6, almost 5 and 3.5 — I saw firsthand just how naturally their language developed. They began babbling in sign language at maybe three months, and then began making words when they were six months old. It didn’t change with each child; each child hit the same language milestones in their first year of life. I have many examples that support how bilingualism is really beneficial.

When my oldest was 17 months old, she told me about a dream she had about a wolf inside a pumpkin. I was astounded, because that was from a children’s book we had read a few days before. For her to be able to describe such an abstract concept — dreams — and be so detailed in what it was about was just mind-blowing. Yet, because she was not yet fluent in English at that age, she would have been incorrectly perceived as language-delayed. Today, she’s seven and reading and writing at two grades above level. My other children are the same; all are above grade level for language in both ASL and English. This is no surprise for those who are familiar with bilingualism with any two languages; bilingualism has consistently shown to help young children acquire languages and get ahead in many areas.

With the proliferation of sign language classes and programs around the country, it’s sadly ironic that more and more deaf people — specifically children — are being denied access to sign language, which is their natural language. All this stems from the mistaken notion that one language is superior to another. Signed languages are not the only victims of this, though. This is also happening with many other languages in the United States, all because of the belief that English should be the only language.

And this, my friends, is exactly why language access is so crucial for any child, deaf or hearing. Unfortunately, because being deaf is still looked upon as a disability instead of a linguistic minority or cultural minority, millions of children around the world are being denied sign language. We must cease the belief that any one language is superior to another, like English being superior to Spanish.

So, what does this have to do with you? Why should you care? The answer is simple. You are given the privilege of choosing to study one language, any language and making yourself bilingual or even multilingual. And you can do this using your natural language. This same privilege needs to be given to deaf children, just like I was given that privilege. There are many ways you can do this as a world language student.

Say you’re learning Italian or French, and you go to Italy or France and run into a deaf child. What would you do? Or maybe you have a deaf child yourself someday. How would you respond? May I suggest that as you study your language of choice, you also learn the sign language of that country? Learn about sign language, learn about the glorious culture of Deaf people not only in America, but in other countries as well, and help promote the fact that signed language is as important as your language of choice. By ensuring that signed language persists despite blatant modern-day efforts to abolish it and misconceptions, you are helping bring language access to every deaf person out there. Linguicide is not acceptable for any language, and one way to combat this is as you continue to study languages, embrace their peoples, histories and cultures, and celebrate all that the language stands for.

Thank you for allowing me to share the importance of preserving any and all languages without oppression or notions of superiority. Congratulations on this wonderful journey you have embarked on into world language learning.

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

Open letter to Jason Curry, sComm CEO

(To learn more about this open letter, go here.)

March 30, 2015

Mr. Curry:

Thank you for the video you released on Friday, March 27, clarifying sComm’s position on having the UbiDuo replace interpreters specifically in child abuse cases.

My goal is to ensure that accurate information is shared with everyone, deaf or hearing, and that nobody has any communication options forced upon him or her. I would like to invite sComm to share in this goal.

However, many of the comments on the sComm Facebook page have been deleted, including several I posted, such as this one:IMG_6636 2

I would like to understand why they were deleted. A tough part of any business is dealing with customer feedback, positive or negative. Deleting messages can be counterproductive, and implies that sComm does not welcome feedback from the very community it serves.

Additionally, there seems to be quite a history of sComm’s position on “replacing” interpreters with the UbiDuo and the continued implication that deaf and hard of hearing people cannot function independently; this dates back to at least January 2012, as shown in this YouTube video at around the three-minute mark where you are shown typing “deaf and hard of hearing people have to go everywhere with an interpreter” to a reporter.

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I also have numerous other screenshots, submitted by people, showing similar messages made by sComm representatives and/or you.

While I won’t repeat the long list of issues and suggestions mentioned on my Facebook page or website, I would like to invite you to release an official statement stating sComm’s position on interpreters as a valuable communication tool (or even necessity). I would also like to invite you to share sComm’s updated marketing strategy and how the UbiDuo will be illustrated as one of many options, rather than the only option, available to people who are deaf or hard of hearing. Please note I am not including deafblind people here, as many have told me that the UbiDuo is inaccessible to them. I also encourage sComm to add a statement to its website clearly stating that the UbiDuo should never be considered a replacement for those who prefer to work with interpreters.

Furthermore, I would like to know if sComm intends to take down the Communiphobia video and all other videos and posts that demean American Sign Language and interpreters indirectly or directly. Finally, I welcome an apology from sComm, and you personally, to the deaf and interpreting communities for the insurmountable harm and countless misconceptions that sComm has created, and sComm’s commitment to remedying this.

From a deaf business owner to another, I implore you to please remember that whether we like it or not, any message you share with your clients will have an indirect, and direct, effect on each and every member of the deaf community, including my four children and me. People like you and me are shaping their futures, and it’s crucial that we do this correctly and respectfully.

I look forward to positive changes.

Sincerely,

Trudy Suggs

Doing More Harm than Good

(See the bottom of this page for a link to sComm’s response to this and my follow-up response in both ASL and English. I have also posted updates at the end of this page.)

A friend texted and told me to look at the sComm Facebook page; sComm is the company that markets the UbiDuo device. Saying it enables “the Deaf, Hard of Hearing, and Hearing [sic] to Communicate without Barriers,” it touts the UbiDuo as “the world’s foremost communication solution for people who are deaf, hard of hearing or hearing.” It also states almost proudly, it seems, that there “is no need for an interpreter with the UbiDuo.”

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When the UbiDuo, produced by sComm, first came out, I was a bit skeptical because the device didn’t seem like anything special; it was like a makeshift set-up of two TTYs connected to each other. Even though some people I knew worked for sComm, I still wasn’t convinced of its value.

Based in Raytown, Mo., the company was founded by Jason Curry, who is deaf, and his hearing father David. The sComm website says, “The UbiDuo was born out of pure frustration.” The story is that the father and son duo “sat down for breakfast one morning and struggled to carry on an in-depth business conversation, free of misinterpretation and confusion.” David sketched his vision of a product, and, “Just like that, one family’s efforts to achieve meaningful and treasured personal connections through communication brought the same life-changing triumph to millions of other deaf and hard of hearing individuals across the world.”

People have the option of getting the UbiDuo 2 Wireless for $1,995 or the UbiDuo Wired for $2,195. Oh, and if you want enhanced security, that’s another $150, and then the carrying bag for the UbiDuo is yet another $50. The sComm website lists along its clients Walmart, Wells Fargo, the White House, Coca-Cola, the Canadian Hearing Society, Goodwill, Pride Toronto, Wegman’s, the U.S. Postal Service, NASA, several universities, and even the U.S. Army and Pentagon.

Within the past few years, sComm has begun aggressively marketing the UbiDuo as a way to replace interpreters rather than as a communication tool. When I lived in Minnesota, a local advocate who worked for sComm allegedly convinced the local hospital — which had been super in providing immediate access to interpreters — to use the UbiDuo for emergency room communications instead of interpreters. Knowing this advocate’s belief system, I didn’t buy that he would actually push for this.

When my husband had to go to the emergency room, we found the rumor was true. My husband texted me, confused, saying that the nurse told him no interpreters were available because it was the weekend. I knew this was not accurate information, and since I had worked closely with the hospital for years in ensuring top-notch interpreter provision, I immediately told him to take photographs or get a copy of the nurse’s notes. The nurse also said the UbiDuo was now the standard for emergency room visits instead of interpreters. When I notified my contacts at the hospital, they apologized and said they would immediately remedy this mistake by communicating with the ER staff.

So after my friend’s text, I looked at the sComm Facebook page and couldn’t believe my eyes. In a post that has since been removed, sComm shared the article regarding Tennessee’s proposed law to use volunteer interpreters, and said: “What are your thoughts on volunteer interpreters dealing with child abuse cases? How is this a good thing? It’s simply not, not one bit.” I thought, “All right, that’s a great start.” But then the next paragraph floored me.

sComm wrote, “For these kind of situations as well, investigators would benefit greatly from a UbiDuo 2 to communicate easily and securely with the deaf and hard of hearing.”

I shared that post on my Facebook page, and added, “Uh, no! A UbiDuo 2 does NOT help if one is physically injured, traumatized, or scared. It also does not help if one is too upset to think straight in English, or is not fluent in English. I know when I’m really upset, I don’t want to have to type my thoughts out, even if temporarily. There have been times where I was too shaky to even hold a pen, much less type.”

I went back to the sComm page and asked, “Are you seriously proposing the UbiDuo 2 as a replacement (even if temporarily) for an interpreter based on this proposed law?” The response was a brief, “Yes, we are.”IMG_6595

Lest anyone think otherwise, this was not the first time sComm had made such outrageous comments. In a Feb. 6 post, sComm posted this:

“What would you do if you were in a life-threatening situation and unable to communicate? Wait hours for an interpreter? That’s not the solution and it’s a very dangerous solution.

The UbiDuo solves that problem. Communicate freely without barriers with anyone you’d like to, without an interpreter.”

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Again, no. In order to use the UbiDuo, one needs to be fluent in English, and of a sound mind and not in any emotional distress. In cases of abuse, especially with children, this is usually not the case. When I saw the response, “Yes, we are,” I immediately thought of my four deaf children who are aged 7 to 3. Although the older two are developing fluency in English, they’re not quite there—and even if they were, I would not want them to have to type on a machine, especially if they’re injured or traumatized. They should, instead, be given a qualified, certified interpreter (and even a Certified Deaf Interpreter), so that they have full access to everything around them and have full access to expressing themselves in their native language.

Unfortunately, sComm has a history of pushing for the UbiDuo to replace interpreters. Just look at the blurb on the American Bar Association’s website:

The UbiDuo enables deaf/hard of hearing people to communicate with hearing people without any face to face barriers. The UbiDuo is a two-screen, two-keyboard electronic communication device. It is completely portable, wireless, operates in real-time, and is completely stand alone.  This device was tested in the 13th Circuit and was very successful.  OSCA then purchased 38 units through the Basic, Data and Training Grants for distribution statewide.  Having this equipment significantly reduces the need for hiring deaf interpreters.  These devices are used in courtrooms and juvenile offices for child welfare hearings, meetings, visitations, trainings, and other related events.

And then there’s the lawsuit brought against a Jacksonville, Fla., hospital:

Caserta said an UbiDuo communication device used at Baptist that allows patients and staff to communicate with keyboards and monitors isn’t helpful if the patient struggles to read, write or type, as several of her clients do.

sComm has also posted comments repeatedly saying they want to replace interpreters with UbiDuos. For example, take a look at this screenshot shared by Jahan Farzam-Behboodi:

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Derek Braun, Ph.D., a biology professor and the director of a molecular genetics laboratory, said in a response to my post: “I had a situation last year where I was in the hospital and in bad shape after a surgery that did not go well, and I couldn’t breathe. My head was swollen up. The doctors were trying to figure out if [I] had a pulmonary embolism.” He explains that the hospital brought in a TV for video remote interpreting. “Of course I couldn’t even see the TV because I was in bed and couldn’t sit up (or breathe!). My wife told me later that the connection was crappy anyway. She yelled for a real interpreter. That was almost criminal. What sComm is proposing is worse, and yet another step down the path to depraved indifference.”

Diane Plassey Gutierrez also wrote on my thread, “This is frightening. I recently had heart surgery and was unable to communicate with the medical staff for three days afterwards, due to fuzzy vision and weakness in my arms so that I couldn’t hold a pen. Fortunately the hospital brought in an interpreter and was able to communicate my immediate needs to the staff. I know I would be scared to go to a hospital or clinic that relied mainly on the UbiDuo with its frequent breakdowns, inadequate staff training in its use, and misunderstandings since not every Deaf person and not every medical staff person is fluent in written English.”

After seeing my Facebook post, several people posted comments on the sComm Facebook page, and sComm deleted most of them. I also asked at the sComm page if anyone on the sComm staff had deaf children, since I had four deaf children and knew firsthand the dangers of their mission to replace interpreters. They did not respond.

Given the grave, potentially life-threatening, misleading message sComm is promoting through social media and probably in its business-to-business marketing efforts, it is crucial that CEO Jason Curry step up to the plate and recognize that they need to develop a new marketing strategy that focuses on the truth, rather than hyping a one-size-fits-all solution that puts full, appropriate communication access at risk. sComm must also publicly recognize that the UbiDuo cannot be offered as a replacement, but as an option. Their current stance is dangerous, and puts entities using the UbiDuo in place of interpreters at great risk for misunderstandings, miscommunication and liability.

sComm may also rethink its statement on its website: “sComm is relentless in its efforts to transform face-to-face communication for deaf, hard of hearing, and hearing people and will not rest until it has achieved 100% one-on-one communication equality.” Certainly. sComm has been relentless in refusing to recognize that what they promote is not communication equality. And I will be relentless, too, about that.

UPDATE: sComm released a video responding to the criticism about its post. I share my thoughts on the sComm statement in this video response. The transcript is below.

Hi. When my article was released, I was taken aback by the thousands, actually, almost 20,000 views of the article, which was in relation to sComm and the UbiDuo. Of course, the majority expressed anger and dismay. Just a few hours ago tonight, March 27, sComm posted a video with Jason Curry, the head of sComm; sComm produces the UbiDuo. He said, in sign language, that sComm does not support the replacement of interpreters with UbiDuo; rather, the UbiDuo is ideal for when interpreters are not available. That was the essence of his message. I watched his video, and…I applaud him for responding to the criticism. Still, what he did was spin-doctoring, trying to control the information so that the real issue is pushed aside. I’d like to emphasize this, though. Some people seem to think the UbiDuo is fine. Yes, it’s perfectly fine — if you can use it effortlessly and are satisfied with it. If you don’t need an interpreter, then by all means, use it. But for situations involving hospitals, trauma, police, court, and specifically children — I have four deaf children aged 7 to 3. The older two probably could use it — but in cases of trauma, that’d be a very bad idea. I’d prefer to see an interpreter and even a certified deaf interpreter brought in so that the children can know everything that’s going on around the. Not just the conversation on screen, but also what’s being said around them that the interpreters could interpret. Not just for my children, but even for myself. Even if I’m fluent in English, when I’m upset, I prefer to sign, or when if I’m shocked. In crises, no, the UbiDuo isn’t a good idea. Besides, I don’t want anyone to tell me that I can’t have an interpreter, that I must use the UbiDuo. I get to decide, not them. That’s the essence of my stance.

At a recent workshop I presented, a participant shared the example of another person whose first language wasn’t English. This person went through a court report and marked off areas that were not true, but she wrote “not sure” [the signs for both words are similar]. She thought the word for “true” was “sure.” Obviously she didn’t have fluency in English, so for people like that, it’s not fair to force them to use the UbiDuo. They might think they can write in English, but they’re not in reality fluent. That’s risky. So my point is that I appreciate Jason’s comments, but no, sComm needs to go back and revise all of their messages, all of their website contents, print materials, everything. Even their meetings with everyone — sComm has numerous high-profile clients — governmental agencies, and everyone. They need to go back and inform everyone that the UbiDuo is an option, not a replacement. If they don’t do that, then they’re really endangering a lot of people’s lives. They say they’re relentless; so am I. I will keep on until they improve their message. I don’t want them to put me or my family at risk, period.

March 28: This story just gets more mind-boggling. Someone shared this link with me, produced by sComm.  At about 2:50, this appears:

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“Crippled”? Really? And the video also, even if jokingly, promotes VRS fraud. To stay updated, be sure to visit my Facebook page.

March 29: I posted this on my Facebook page tonight.

Hi, everyone! A huge thank you to everyone who has shared their input, and to everyone who has provided screenshots and videos posted by sComm.

Here’s what has happened since I first posted my article/video showing how sComm claimed that the UbiDuo should replace interpreters, particularly in child abuse cases. This article has been seen by tens of thousands of people. 

sComm did release a video clarifying that they did not support having only UbiDuos in child abuse cases (and I posted that on my website); I posted a follow-up video to that on Friday, March 27. Since then:

1. sComm has deleted all of my comments (unfortunately for them, I kept screenshots and copies of their videos). They have also deleted many of their dissenters’ comments. Otherwise, they’ve been staying quiet aside from having their supporters respond to dissenters.

2. More and more people have sent in emails and information demonstrating just how deep sComm’s mockery and oppression of ASL and interpreters has gone for quite some time now. It’s heart-breaking, truly, especially as a deaf business owner myself. I actually have no problem with the device itself; it’s the ethics (or lack of, rather) behind sComm’s marketing and claims demeaning ASL and mocking interpreters that I cannot support.

4. I am releasing a letter to sComm asking for a few things; that will be posted here and on my website tomorrow. 

5. In the meantime, I ask that we all not mock anyone’s signing or communication preferences. When anyone does this, this is no than sComm demeaning ASL. 

If you think what I have posted isn’t enough, here are additional screenshots — from February 2015 — of where sComm states that ASL is a simplified language.

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

Remembering Chuck Baird (1947-2012)

I first met Chuck Baird when I was 10. My parents took me to see King of Hearts, a magnificent production by the National Theatre of the Deaf. To this day, it’s the only theatrical production I ever really enjoyed. After the show, Chuck came out to mingle with the audience. I remember him as being gregarious; he didn’t talk down to me, and I walked away in awe of his sincerity.

Fifteen years later, I went with friends to the annual International Center on Deafness festival in Chicago. By then, I had become aware of Chuck’s notoriety as an artist, and was a bit star-struck when a friend introduced us. I told him of how we met nearly two decades before. He told me later that it was at that moment that he knew that we were meant to be soul friends.

Today, 30 years after I first met Chuck and three years after his passing, I think about him often. We became extremely close in the years after our second meeting, and I came to know him not as Chuck the deaf artist, but as someone who constantly found himself at odds with his own world views, beliefs, and values. He and I were kindred spirits, and he helped bring me out of a dark time. I took to calling him my heart savior, because he helped heal my heart with his wisdom and belief in me.

We saw each other frequently, usually at deaf events, and we were inseparable when together. We met up in Kentucky, California, Missouri, New York, Louisiana, Washington, D.C., Connecticut, Minnesota, Pennsylvania, and so many other places. He was fiercely loyal to me as I was to him, and showed that in so many ways when we visited.

As I became busier, having four children in four years, and as he relocated to Austin, Texas, we didn’t talk as often. Still, we continued to meet up from time to time. A month after I had my first child, Chuck made a detour from a stay in South Dakota to see me during the 2008 Clerc Classic tournament in Minnesota. As always, it was like no time had gone by. We talked nonstop, and I remember him looking at my daughter in awe, a child who was an extension of me.

Chuck was truly a Renaissance man. He was also the perfect example of a starving, temperamental artist — always on the hunt for the next paycheck, the next place to live. That sometimes was frustrating for me, because I knew intimately his amazing talents and his mind-blowing brilliance. He was and is revered as an artist, yet he never made the money he deserved. We spent hours talking about this, along with our life experiences, Deaf history, philosophy, God, friends, books, and everything else under the sun. He gave me so many beautiful things: a book about covered bridges, a leather journal, his artwork, jewelry like a necklace with shapes resembling the ASL sign for “communicate,” and best of all, his time.

When Chuck told me he had cancer, I was heartbroken. I felt helpless because I was so far away, and pregnant yet again. As his time came closer, we became more spiritually connected, even though we didn’t talk often. He and I agreed that he would mail me all of my letters back to me, so I could read the many handwritten letters we had exchanged. I read each letter and cried and laughed at how raw and honest we had been with each other. I then destroyed them, as Chuck and I had agreed.

Chuck, or CCB as I always called him, became increasingly religious as he neared the end. He told me about how one night during of his many visits to the hospital, he was in bed praying. He said he began singing, imagining angels around him as he sang. “I didn’t care if anyone heard me or my deaf voice at the time. I just sang, and felt so incredibly connected to God,” he said. The radiance from his face as he told me this story gave me chills.

The last time I saw him was exactly a month before he died. We chatted for two hours via video as he ate soup and fiddled with the baseball cap he had on. Even though I had seen him a few times, it was still always a shock to see how thin he had gotten. I experienced so much joy that night, even as bittersweet as it was. I somehow knew this would be our last face-to-face conversation, but didn’t dare say it.

An e-mail he sent me immediately after our conversation contained his last words to me: “I loved and enjoyed our chat tonight. Love you in peace thru Christ, my true friend. ccb.”

I was among the first to learn of his death on the morning of February 10, 2012. I had slept fitfully all night, knowing he was going to leave us any minute. I sat up in bed, numbed by the text message I had just read. I knew a great spirit had left us, one who was often underappreciated yet was incredibly beloved. A mutual close friend warned me that people would come out of the woodwork once he passed away, and he was right. So many articles, posts and emails were shared about his “greatness” — mostly in reference to his acting and art. All I kept wanting to say was, “But you don’t know how he was so much more than his art. He was a tormented soul who found joy in the littlest things and had so much love for the mind, the soul and God.” It’s taken me this long to even feel comfortable talking about how extraordinary Chuck was.

Chuck Baird with Trudy SuggsWhen I think of Chuck, I remember how he had the chubbiest fingers and how I took pleasure in watching them create masterfully crafted words and art. I think of how we squabbled often, but always quickly soothing the other. I think of how I scolded him for being so tactless — he once said, when I showed him a picture right after the birth of my second child, “Oh my gosh, you look fat!” I think about how he got annoyed with me for being bossy, especially when I lectured him about his weight; our annoyances certainly went both ways. I think about how he had such a passionate spirit. I think about how shockingly salt-and-pepper his hair was and how his beard became the same. I think about how we always laughed at the littlest things.

Mostly, I think about how Chuck showed me what a deep, true friendship is: full of ups and downs, exasperation, delight, wonder, and love all coming together to create a marvelous connection. He was, and is, my heart savior — something that I can never repay him for.

Happy birthday, CCB.

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Getting to the Heart of the Matter

I first saw the term DEAF-HEART at an interpreting conference back in the early 2000s. There was a heated discussion in a workshop, and an interpreter stood on stage saying how important it was to have DEAF HEART—she signed “deaf” over the heart. My friend, a top-level interpreter, quickly looked at me to see how I reacted. I naturally was caught off-guard by that sign and turned to her, saying, “What the…?” She giggled at my reaction, and said, “Yeah, I know. A new phrase that’s catching on.”

I had a sick feeling in my stomach, although I didn’t understand quite what bothered me so much about the phrase. It didn’t help that the newly certified interpreter on stage was not yet fluent in American Sign Language. Later that day, I chatted with other deaf people at the conference and discovered that I wasn’t the only one bothered by this phrase.

Fast forward to the 2013 Street Leverage event in Atlanta, where this term seemed to be all the rage. Even Deaf presenters stood onstage and talked about what DEAF-HEART meant. I wanted to write about this phrase then, but I still hadn’t quite pinpointed why it was such an abrasive phrase to me. Over time, I talked to many people: interpreters, Deaf people, CDIs, and everyone else in between. The same messages kept emerging: they, too, didn’t like the phrase but weren’t sure why. The select few (all hearing) who did like the phrase said the phrase made them feel like they belonged to the Deaf community.

Let’s explore the history of this phrase. While there’s no hard evidence of exactly when DEAF-HEART began being used, the phrase has been around at least 15 years, based on the first time I saw it. I spoke with Lewis Merkin, CDI, who said he and a group (including CDIs Jimmy Beldon, Alisha Bronk, Janis Cole, Kristin Lund, and Priscilla Moyers) had met in December 2008 as part of a Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf (RID) Deaf Members in Leadership committee meeting. As reported in the Spring 2009 issue of the RID VIEWS:

The best approach to reminding members of the value of an “of Deaf” perspective is to create an atmosphere where this occurs naturally. We discussed “Deaf Heart” [sic] concepts (ASL, visually accessible information, collectivism vs. individualism, culture, history, CODA input, etc.) and looked at how this can be incorporated (at the 2009 RID National Conference, collaborating with NAD, CIT and ASLTA to incorporate allies principles into interpreter training program curricula, revisit the wording of RID’s strategic challenges, etc.).

In that same issue, Bronk wrote in “Interpreters: Gatekeepers for the Deaf Interpreter Community”:

We should all be open to sharing our experiences, frustrations and joys of our work in an effort to improve ourselves and our field. We know that deaf and hearing interpreters, working in teams, can provide the best service to many Deaf community members, enhance all of our skills, and bring what the Deaf community calls “Deaf-heart” [sic] back into our field.

Merkin told me, “I know when we were talking about it, it was to find a way of explaining what we considered positive traits. How it’s been co-opted is another story.”

I continue to be uncomfortable with it for a number of reasons, and I continue to be surprised by how many people have expressed their discomfort with this phrase but are hesitant to share their discomfort for fear of backlash.

With the interpreting field becoming much more professionalized—not a bad thing, in any way—I find that more and more interpreters are trying to use different labels, including “having DEAF-HEART.” John, a friend I shared this article with said it best: “Without having the lived experience of being deaf, you may be able to identify various factors and experiences deaf people have on an intellectual level, but at the end of the day, you don’t have that personal experience.” This is true even for those who are hearing and have Deaf family members; while they may see the good and bad experiences of being a Deaf person, they don’t experience it firsthand.

I remember when I first understood this. Ironically, it was a hearing person who taught me this—a straight, white male who people love to hate: a police officer. Ken and I were co-teaching a course at the Illinois State Police Academy after two deaf men had been killed by police within a month’s span back in 1996. A high-ranking Illinois State Police administrator, Ken happened to be my graduate school notetaker and became a trusted ally and friend. We naturally joined forces, with our work leading to a statewide curriculum addressing how police should communicate with deaf people.

During a class, Ken asked the 60 cadets, “How many of you had met a deaf person before today?” Only five or six raised their hands, which surprised even me. He then asked me, “Trudy, how many times this morning did you have to tell someone you were deaf?” I mentally did the calculations, and said, “Five or six times.” It was only 10:00 a.m. when I gave that answer, and I suddenly understood just how much being Deaf shaped my life experiences, even for simple tasks such as getting gas or buying food.

This illustrates exactly why no matter how “Deaf” a hearing person may be or feel, that person will never have firsthand knowledge of the tension or even fear we have when we are in a situation involving communication. They can empathize, of course, but it’s a completely different experience when you’re actually living 24 hours a day as a Deaf person.

Another reason I bristle at DEAF-HEART is that it seems as if this is yet another way to try and gain entrance to the core of our community. Can you imagine telling someone, “That [white American] interpreter has ASIAN-HEART”? While it obviously is meant to be complimentary, it’s really not.

This is the crux of the problem for me: how interpreters consistently and continuously try to be as integrated into the Deaf community as they possibly can be. I can’t count how many times an interpreter or ASL student has excitedly said to me, “Wow! That person thought I was Deaf or had Deaf parents!” as if this was the highest praise available. And of course there are those who say, “That interpreter really does have a DEAF-HEART.” To me, this is an example of cultural appropriation—even if unintentional. I also recognize that many Deaf people promote this phrase without understanding the weight it holds. One Deaf interpreter said, “DEAF-HEART is like branding. By gaining this label, you’re branded ‘in’ with Deaf people.”

John, my friend, added, “To me, DEAF-HEART has a negative connotation because it implies that one does ‘goodwill.’ We do not need their goodwill, we need them to respect us and treat us equally.  That’s it. Why isn’t having our respect enough?  Why do we need to reward hearing people, who represent the majority, by giving them a name like DEAF-HEART when they are supposed to respect our culture and language, anyway?”

Yet it seems many hearing interpreters and deaf people have become enamored with the idea that it is necessary to be as Deaf as possible to be accepted in the Deaf community. This is not appropriate, nor true. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being an outsider who supports the Deaf community. You may ask, “But what about trust? How can we gain Deaf people’s trust?”

Ah, but there’s a word for this: ally. I think this word is so much more powerful than DEAF-HEART. Ally has been in use for years, and for good reason; most dictionaries define it as coming together for a common cause or purpose and in mutual respect.

One can be an ally and have access to the community by practicing that word’s meaning to the highest standards possible. John added, “To be a true ally, people have to practice humility, which means they do not tell Deaf people they have gotten our respect or share the praises they get from us. Humility and respect are what makes them true allies.”

Exactly. And that’s why I will always choose to work with someone who is sincerely an ally rather than someone who supposedly has DEAF-HEART, because to me, a genuine ally means someone who actually works with you to make something happen, shows respect, and understands better than anyone else that this is your experience.

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

To Lead or Not to Lead? Sharing Power in the Field of Interpreting

This article originally appeared in the spring/summer 2014 issue of the RID VIEWS (Volume 31, Issue 2).

View it as a PDF file: Suggs-Bowen_Article.pdf

By Doug Bowen-Bailey, CI/CT, and Trudy Suggs, CDI

In the field of interpreting, a critical question is how to share power in leadership. While interpreters might often think of this at the organizational level, they also need to see this power-sharing method in daily practice.

As certified interpreters, we have worked together on many projects. We are also both passionate about language, both written and signed. In our partnership, we frequently have had to navigate ways to share power as a hearing person and a deaf person. Our work, however, often focuses on much broader issues than linguistics.

One such example of power-sharing becoming an issue emerged during a video project where we worked with a hearing project manager in creating an ASL version of an English-based curriculum. The project manager did not sign and was relatively new to the deaf community, although he had worked on other deaf community projects in the past. He had tremendously good intentions and was very committed to access. Yet at the beginning of this collaboration, he frequently communicated via telephone with Doug on project details, and Doug would then let Trudy know of the conversations. The conversations were rarely long or substantive, but they put Doug in the role of gatekeeper. As a result, Trudy responded to ideas rather than helping to create them, a significant shift since it was Trudy who had initially advocated for Doug’s involvement in this project.

After a few times, Trudy expressed a bit of concern about this process. Doug agreed, especially since he had also noted this pattern. Together, they determined that using a text-based online meeting platform would allow everyone to have equal access (with the added benefit of having a transcript for notes). Also discussed was who should propose this idea to the project manager; we decided that Doug should do it because, as a hearing person, there was less risk that he would be perceived negatively for challenging a hearing norm. Doug then offered this alternative to the project manager, pointing out the barriers created by the phone calls. The project manager quickly agreed, and the text chat turned out to be very successful in allowing all parties to more fully contribute.

Such instances often are so subtle that they don’t appear as clear delineations of power, but over time, they can become leadership challenges. In exploring such daily opportunities for sharing power, a better understanding of leadership can be achieved. We don’t intend to lift up our choices as the ideal model; however, there are principles in how we responded that may be helpful. The steps in that process consisted of:

  • Understanding the power of gatekeeping
  • Committing to shared decision-making
  • Analyzing the dynamics of power and risk
  • Creating a joint plan of action

Understanding the Power of Gatekeeping

It is important to look at the function and power of gatekeeping. In this example, gatekeeper meant being in a position to allow access to a system or institution. Initially, Trudy was the gatekeeper for Doug by advocating for his involvement in the project. However, in American dominant hearing culture, society is much more comfortable with hearing people in the role of gatekeeper. Whether rooted in audism, or in the ease that many find in communicating through spoken English, or a combination of both, Doug quickly became the gatekeeper.

In an August 2014 interview, Jimmy Beldon identified in the dynamics of opportunities for hearing and deaf interpreters:

…sometimes CDIs will see doors open and invite a hearing interpreter to work — in a team. But then the hearing interpreter walks ahead and goes through the door alone, leaving the CDI behind. When the hearing interpreter enters alone, it means that interpreter starts building a relationship with people and with clients while also building skills. As typically is the case, when people build skills, they naturally become leaders and accept leadership roles.

Such a pattern leads to a power imbalance. Fortunately, we were able to recognize this dynamic in that particular project and managed it in a way that did not leave either of us behind. In fact, for certain projects, it has been critical for Trudy serve as gatekeeper. For example, we have needed to recruit talent who are Deaf and fluent in ASL. Her understanding of and relationships within the Deaf community make her much more effective in this role than Doug can be.

Valuing the Wisdom of the Deaf Experience

A common approach to making decisions about deaf people is to simply exclude them and determine, based on various altruistic and systematic values, what is “best” for them. As discussed in Trudy’s Deaf Disempowerment and Today’s Interpreter presentation for Street Leverage, disempowerment is the taking away of power. She shares examples of how everyday disempowerment happens at minuscule, yet influential, levels. This, in turn, creates a cycle of situational disempowerment and economic disempowerment — thereby continuing the (unintentional and intentional) oppression of deaf people in every facet of their lives.

In the aforementioned project, Doug’s moving into the gatekeeper role certainly could have had economic consequences. If Doug had ignored or minimized Trudy’s concerns, he could have gone on to build relationships that led to further projects for him while leaving Trudy behind, creating economic and situational disempowerment.

In her StreetLeverage presentation, Trudy pointed out some other approaches:

By refusing to control situations, by deferring to the deaf person whenever appropriate, by allowing the consumers to control the situation, and by ensuring that you don’t speak on behalf of the entire deaf community especially if you’re hearing—you can take steps towards ensuring that deaf people retain their power while you do your job. (Suggs, 2012b)

The idea of hearing people deferring to deaf people is not done out of pity or patronization. The justification for it is not that deaf people have experienced oppression, so therefore hearing interpreters should simply back off. Rather, it comes from a valuing of the wisdom that comes from Deaf epistemology, which is defined as “the nature and extent of the knowledge that deaf individuals acquire growing up in a society that relies primarily on audition to navigate life” (Hauser et al., 2010, p. 486).   In other words, the experience of being deaf in a hearing world provides insights that hearing interpreters can’t have access to unless they are open to following deaf people’s lead.

Another deaf-hearing team experience showcases this deference as a key step. Nic Zapko and Patty Gordon are the creators of StoryBlend, an immersion experience that uses theater to build ASL and interpreting skills. Nic, who is deaf, and Patty, who is hearing, have noticed a consistent dynamic in the process as it moves from the first to the second week. Initially, all interactions are in ASL. By the second week, participants begin to work on translating ASL into English. At some point, the atmosphere shifts from being Deaf-centric to hearing-centric. Nic was the first to notice this; in fact, Patty states that she often doesn’t see or sense it until Nic points it out. She has learned to defer to Nic’s identification of the shift so that it can be addressed for the benefit of all involved with StoryBlend.

Analyzing the Dynamics of Power and Risk

In identifying issues related to leadership and power-sharing, the next step is to make an assessment of the dynamics of power and risk. Valuing the wisdom of and deferring to the leadership of deaf people does not mean that hearing interpreters can, or should, simply step back from taking action or responsibility. In some situations, a deaf person may provide the insight and leadership, but it may be too risky to be the point person in carrying out an action. Consequently, a hearing interpreter may serve that purpose as an ally. This does not mean that the deaf person is giving up power to someone with privilege. Rather, taking an honest assessment of the dynamics of the situation helps figure out the best way to address how to achieve an objective with the least risk.

In the initial example with the project manager, we determined that Doug had less to risk in challenging the hearing norm of phone conversations. One of the ironies of hearing privilege is that hearing people can often bring forward the exact same critique of a situation and be perceived as insightful, whereas a deaf person may be perceived as militant, divisive, or angry.   Trudy shared an example of this labeling in another StreetLeverage presentation (Suggs, 2012a). In that situation, the deaf people involved were simply sharing experiences, yet they were perceived as venting, divisive and angry. (It’s also important to note that anger can be a legitimate response to experiences of oppression and using such labels can be expressions of privilege.)

The dynamics of audism often means the risk can be even more subtle. To use a non-interpreting example, Oprah Winfrey was denied access to a store in Paris. She felt that she had been discriminated against because she was black. The store claimed that they were setting up for a private party and couldn’t let her in. Tim Wise suggests that the reason doesn’t matter. What is more significant is that “Oprah Winfrey, with all her money, all her power, and all her influence, still had to wonder, even if only for a moment, whether her race had trumped all that in the eyes of another person” (Wise, 2008, p. 72). Deaf people frequently have similar thoughts and experiences when encountering systems and institutions that favor the ability to hear, or hearing privilege. No matter how competent or powerful those individuals are, the risk of encountering doubt and insecurity is simply a part of living in a hearing-dominated society.

In this context, there may be situations where it seems too risky for a deaf person to be the lead, such as a deaf-hearing interpreting team. If a CDI brings forward a concern to an agency, the agency may view the deaf interpreter as the problem, choosing in the future to hire only hearing interpreters because they are perceived as safe. In addition, while being deaf in a hearing world can provide wisdom and insight, it also can be exhausting. At times, it makes sense for hearing interpreters to serve as allies in taking action. Yet, this is not a decision that hearing interpreters should make without deferring to the deaf interpreters.

Creating a Joint Plan of Action

If the team decides that the hearing interpreter is to take the lead, this should always be part of a joint plan. With the project manager, it made sense for Doug to raise the concern, but it didn’t mean that he acted on his own or that Trudy somehow ceded power to a privileged white, male, hearing interpreter. While in many respects, Trudy provided the leadership in the situation with insight into what was taking place and how to address the situation, Doug still could share his perspectives.

After an action is carried out, it is vital to evaluate the consequences. Throughout the project and even today, we continued to have conversations about the dynamics of interactions. Such a sharing of power is not something can simply be checked off a list. It is a continuing process.

Although such a process can consume energy and requires commitment, the upside is that sharing power does not have to be a zero-sum equation. Deaf people exercising their power do not diminish hearing interpreters’ power. Working together to create a plan of action that takes into account the value of deaf people’s experiences and the dynamics of a situation can be of benefit to all involved.

Beldon, in his interview, ended with an encouraging point in thinking about deaf-hearing interpreting teams:

Hearing interpreters have to help, serve as allies, and promote CDIs as team members. Share the message that it will ensure equivalent messages. It’s about deaf people’s language. Hearing interpreters can do their thing, and let the CDIs do theirs. It’s beautiful.

Deaf and hearing people working together in everyday situations to share leadership and power is just as beautiful, and well worth the energy to make it happen.

References

Beldon, J. (2014, Spring/Summer). Opening the door to CDI leadership. VIEWS. (no page number)

Hauser, P., O’Hearn, A., McKee, M., Steider, A., and Thew, D. (2010). Deaf epistemology: Deafhood and deafness. American Annals of the Deaf, 154(5), 486-492.

Suggs, T. (2012a, August 7). A deaf perspective: Cultural respect in sign language interpreting. Retrieved from http://www.streetleverage.com/2012/08/a-deaf-perspective- cultural-respect-in-sign-language-interpreting

Suggs, T. (2012b, December 11). Deaf disempowerment and today’s interpreter. Retrieved from http://www.streetleverage.com/2012/12/deaf-disempowerment-and-todays-interpreter

Wise, T. (2008). White like me: Reflections on race from a privileged son. Berkeley, CA: Soft Skull Press.

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The fight of her life: Ronda Kopatich-Johnson

Ronda Kopatich-Johnson was my children’s teacher aide last year in preschool, and my children went ga-ga over her. My children came home with new words every single day. I could easily identify the words that came from Ronda, because of the signing style — and that always made me smile. They ask about Ronda every day, and talk about stories she told them such as her trip to Hawaii. She is gentle, loving, and firm but so incredibly sweet and giving. I could list a million positive adjectives about her, and I still wouldn’t get to the heart of who she is. So let me share a story.

Last year, my children’s school hosted a regional basketball tournament. The school gym is straight out of a movie–it is old, with a wooden, low ceiling that volleyball players use to their advantage during matches. The bleachers shake whenever people climb them, and reverberate with amazing energy when fans cheer. During the tournament, I realized my older daughter was nowhere to be seen, and I figured she was probably in the gym basement, playing with other children. I walked down to check on her, and saw a sight I’ll never forget.

About 15, maybe 20, children — both deaf and hearing — were seated in a circle. Ronda was explaining the rules for Duck, Duck, Goose to the captivated children. I watched from a distance as she taught them and then joined in on the fun.

Nobody asked her to do this, but Ronda knew the children were in need of activities after being cooped up in the gym all day long. Never mind that she already worked with preschoolers all week, and this was her time off.  After a while, I asked if she was all right, if she needed me to get the other parents so that she could watch the game; she was, and is, a renowned basketball player, and I knew how important basketball is to her. She shook her head and said she was just fine, that she was happy to help parents, including me, get a little respite.

I couldn’t stop thinking about this amazing deed on her part, because upstairs, there were hundreds of parents enjoying the games, clueless to the fact that one woman had chosen to go downstairs and entertain children who weren’t hers.

That, my friends, is what a true role model is.

Ronda is now fighting the harshest battle of her life: cancer. Since she is not covered by her wife’s health insurance, they have to pay for her medical expenses out of pocket. She was in the hospital for more than a month, days away from death. She is now home, and slowly but surely fighting her way back to “normal” (whatever that is). Her family is amazingly devoted to her recovery, especially her wife, Kelly.

Maybe you could spare a dollar or two, and help. Go to www.giveforward.com/rondakopatichjohnsonfund and read more there.

My children are really looking forward to having Ronda back at school. I am, too.

Update: The donation website is now inactive. Ronda passed away on July 18, 2013, and fought to the very end.

Hi, I’m H.I.XXX Deaf.

This article appeared at i711.com.                                                                                                                

I think it’s a never-ending struggle.

I’m, of course, talking about the persistent use of “hearing impaired” and other related terms. Tom Willard, a writer who is also Deaf, published an amusing article in August 1993 about how Deaf people are portrayed in the media. He wrote that journalists have a tendency to use the same words in stories about deaf or hard of hearing people (i.e., “silent” or “through an interpreter”), and that they also tend to write as if “deafness” is something to be overcome. 12 years later, his article continues to ring true.

Someone recently sent me a real estate ad that upset some people. The ad said:
HEARING IMPAIRED? [Agent’s name deleted for privacy] now has hearing impaired agents to work with your needs.

I decided to fax this agent in case she wasn’t aware about the inappropriateness of using “hearing impaired,” and included a print out of the National Association of the Deaf’s comments on correct terminology (available at www.nad.org/site/pp.asp?c=foINKQMBF&b=103786) I appreciated her attempt at reaching out to deaf and hard of hearing people, though.

The faxed response said (all typos are hers), “Hello, Thank you for your informative fax. I hire hearing impaired agents and secretaries. They are the Ones that set up the ad for me. You might want to educate whom ever wrote you this letter. May God Bless you today!”

I replied that that this “letter” was actually an article from the NAD website, and that I was preparing to write a column about the use of ‘hearing impaired’ in general. I got a second fax, apparently from one of her agents, saying:

PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU ADD THIS TO YOUR ARTICLE AS WELL. THANK GOD FOR A COMPANY THAT HAS A TTY FOR REAL ESTATE. My name is [deleted] and I work for [name deleted]. I instructed [name deleted] to use the Words hearing impaired and tty numbers. We are most thankful to have a real estate firm that Cares about our needs. I am proud to be working for [agency] and we want our hearing impaired friends to Contact us via our tty or stop by our office any time. God Bless You All.

Hmm. This is an intriguing matter. Even with Deaf people’s complaints about the labels pasted on our foreheads by society, we’re shot in the feet (often unintentionally) by people who have hearing losses but prefer to identify themselves as “hearing impaired.” Maybe they aren’t educated on the history behind the use of ‘hearing impaired’, or maybe they choose to use those words.

I completely understand, and respect, how the majority of people with hearing losses do not identify with the Deaf community. I also have no problem with people who identify themselves as ‘hearing impaired’ – it is their choice, after all. Still, shouldn’t my identity be respected? Each time someone insists on calling me hearing impaired, it’s a slap in my face. And ironically, most of the slaps in my face come from individuals who have hearing losses themselves or from families of deaf people.

This has nothing to do with whether if they identify with the Deaf community, the hard of hearing community, the late-deafened community, the DeafBlind community or the hearing world; it’s about respect. Maybe it’s just semantics, but terminology has a huge role in how one’s self-respect is revealed. Words also reveal how far a group has come – especially a cultural minority like the Deaf community.

In school, I called myself “H.I.” simply because the teachers at where I was mainstreamed told me “deaf” wasn’t a good thing to be. I look back on those days with disbelief. How could I have allowed hearing people, who could barely sign, dictate my cultural identity? Would they have done that to a hearing kid from a different culture?

For us to be able to call ourselves Deaf without backlash is a major step forward, and enables us to reclaim our history, identity, and opportunities. How I identify myself really should be respected by everyone, deaf or hearing. Just because people don’t identify with Deaf culture doesn’t mean they can speak for us, or us for them. Why is it even an “us versus them” mentality, anyway? Shouldn’t we all mutually respect each other regardless of label and identity?

Perhaps this mutual respect is so difficult to achieve because people still do not accept the idea that there is a culture among Deaf people. Take the recent letter in the May 23 issue of People in response to a story about Marvin Miller’s plans for Laurent, S.D.:

Has activist Marvin Miller lost more than just his hearing in “Building a Town for the Deaf”? Through the miracle of the cochlear implant, my deaf child lives in the world of hearing. Deafness is not a culture but a disability. Miller gives new meaning to the expression “deaf and dumb.”_- Deborah Gideon, Pepper Pike, Ohio

Ouch.

Would this letter have been published had it contained racial or ethnic slurs? I think not. Yet the editors of People found it fit to publish, calling us “deaf and dumb.” It would have been equally hurtful had the writer said “hearing impaired” for me, because it represents so much more than just an insult for me.

So, yeah, it’s a never-ending struggle. The bottom line here is that even if people call me hearing impaired, I am Deaf.

UPDATE: The real estate agency mentioned in the above article quickly changed the wording to ‘deaf’ as soon as they learned the implications and history of using ‘hearing impaired.’ Kudos to them!

People has also sent me e-mail saying they will be printing an apology in the next issue.

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Where Have They All Gone?

This originally appeared at NAD’s Members-Only website area at www.nad.org.

Recently, I was preparing a press release for one of my clients who owns a deaf-run business. As the client and I were talking about where to send the press release, I suddenly had a startling realization.

There weren’t any deaf newspapers I could send the press release to.

I started ticking deaf publications off in my head. Silent News is apparently kaput. Newswaves – gone. Deaf USA is a trade publication now distributed by CSD. DeafNation quickly folded – temporarily, it said – in April 2000, and they show no sign of returning anytime soon. DeafCanadaToday closed down some time ago. The rest are either newsletters or organizational publications (i.e., NADmag), or feature magazines (i.e. Hearing Health – which, incidentally, has been sold to Deafness Research Foundation).

Deaf people suddenly have very sparse resources for them to share news, opinions and information within the deaf community. Where can we find in-depth coverage of sports? What about deaf events? Where will we find profiles of not only prominent deaf leaders, but of also ordinary deaf people?

The past five years haven’t been too kind to newspapers within the deaf community. What is happening? Why are they all disappearing?

I say it’s because of The Big Three affecting any publication in the mainstream, and especially affecting deaf-oriented publications: Money, mismanagement, and the Internet.

It’s all about $Moola$
Money is probably the biggest factor. Ever since I left Silent News in late January of 2002, I’ve been asked the same question by practically every person who asks me about the decline of newspapers in the deaf community: “Why don’t you set up your own newspaper?”

My response is always the same: “You got the money for me?” I haven’t gotten a “yes” yet.

People don’t quite realize how expensive it is to run a monthly, even quarterly, publication. For one thing, printing costs have skyrocketed – not only for small community newspapers like Silent News, but for major publications and university materials, too.

And then there’s overhead costs… staffing costs… and the costs of the lifeblood of any publication: the photographers, illustrators and writers. Usually advertising and subscriber rates cover these costs, but declining subscription numbers – a problem for almost all publications today – and struggles with getting advertisers to pay up or place ads have not helped.

Advertising is a Catch-22 situation: Companies or people like to advertise, but don’t always want to pay for it, so they often resort to advertising via e-mail or via websites. Using e-mail or websites is a much cheaper, sometimes free, method than paying for printed advertisements. This, obviously, hurts publications that rely upon advertisement income. Another frustration is when companies try to negotiate a barter ad, where they get free ad space in exchange for listing the publication’s name as a sponsor. The publication makes absolutely no money this way, and the free publicity usually isn’t very beneficial.

I’ve also had many people say, “Well, how expensive could it be to start up a newspaper? I’d be willing to do work for free, and I know many others would, too.” Sure, of course – but for how long? I actually started writing for a deaf newspaper for free many years ago – but it seemed unfair when the newspaper started making money off my work and didn’t pay me.

Keep in mind that many of these start-up businesses – much like the dot.com craze – flop after a few years. The Small Business Administration says the majority of small businesses fail eventually, and 50% of them fail within the first year. Why should start-up businesses within the deaf community be any different?

I’ve seen the same delusions of grandeur with many other individuals, mostly inexperienced, who want to start their own business within the deaf community.

Mind you, I’m all for dreams and visions. But I’m also interested in solid, actual business plans and numbers. We’ve seen publication after publication close down because of money. You gotta have money to make money, and you gotta know how to handle money.

This brings me to the second reason: mismanagement.

“I’m The Boss, That’s Why!”
The key to any successful organization is its leader. With a bad leader, you’re going to have chaos waiting to erupt. I can safely say that many of the leaders at the newspapers I worked at had minimal business experience, and a lack of understanding about how important the writers were. The successful publishers and editors are the ones who believe that reliable writers are the heart and soul of their publication.

In my 16 years of working for publications within the deaf community, I’ve seen one constant: a lack of appreciation for writers and contributors. Writers are often expected to write for free – something that would rarely happen with mainstream publications. I once was approached by an online publication that asked me to become the editor for little pay. I immediately asked, “How will you pay the writers?” Their response was, “I don’t understand. Why would the writers be paid at first? They should prove their work to us before we pay them.”

I quickly declined their offer.

Publishers must understand that even if operations and staffing costs are running them into the ground – which wouldn’t ideally happen if they were well-prepared and well-budgeted – they must get rid of their expectations that people will write for free. With no writers, they have no stories. With no stories, they have no subscribers. It’s really quite that simple.

Websites and the Dreaded Forward Syndrome
The third reason is the Internet – which is both a blessing and a curse for the publication world. The Internet is wonderful for finding information and contacting people. USA-L was a valuable tool I utilized more often than not when I was editor over at Silent News. Yet, at the same time, publications have been stunted by the immediate nature of news appearing on websites – especially deaf newspapers.

When the Gallaudet murders happened, the whole world knew about it within 24 hours. When, a month later, Silent News published an in-depth story, the murders were pretty much old news. Yet, for many other stories (like the Errol Shaw shooting in Detroit), we were able to provide in-depth information that weren’t available on many of the sites, thanks to exclusive interviews and information gathering.

Publications have addressed this by providing an online version of their printed newspaper or magazine – but what if you’re a small deaf newspaper with limited funds? Then you’re probably going to be affected by the Internet.

There are also so many websites that try to be a site for “deaf news,” when in reality they’re a compilation of all the news articles about deaf and hard of hearing people that appear in the world’s newspapers and magazines. Search engines and newsgroups easily do this. Where are the original, in-depth stories, written by deaf people and published by deaf people?

Let’s also not forget the annoying Forwarding Syndrome within the deaf community. Anyone can type up an e-mail containing jokes or actual news, and forward it to someone, who will then pass this along to about twenty other people, and these twenty people forward it to forty others.

With this Forwarding Syndrome in place, who needs newspapers anymore?

Subscribers Are the Backbone
One thing bothered me when I was deluged with e-mail after word of yet another deaf newspaper’s demise got out: Why didn’t these subscribers take matters into their own hands, rather than complaining about losing their respect for deaf publications? Why didn’t they demand an answer from the publisher of the newspaper, rather than leaving the paper’s fate to rumors of a buyout? At least three of the now-defunct deaf newspapers did not even have the respect to at least send out a letter of explanation to their subscribers and advertisers or post a message on their websites. If I were a subscriber or advertiser treated this way, I’d be hopping mad and trying to find out answers, fast.

The subscribers could’ve easily filed a class lawsuit to get their money back, filed reports with the Better Business Bureau or filed complaints with the state’s consumer affairs division. Why didn’t they? I’m not sure. Perhaps they expected someone else to take care of matters; perhaps they simply didn’t know their rights as consumers; or they just didn’t think the subscription fee was worth the trouble.

So what do we do? Do we set up yet another newspaper? Hope that some benevolent corporation will save the newspaper? Resort to reading these canned-news websites that cannot offer experienced and qualified editors? Put faith in one of the many new magazines popping up?

Quite frankly, I don’t know.

All I know is that I used to have three deaf-oriented newspapers coming to my house each month. Today, I don’t have even one to look forward to anymore.

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