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Originally appeared in Silent News, February 2002.

Believe it or not, babies born in 1980 – now 22 years old – do not remember a life without captions. But for the rest of us old-timers, we certainly remember life without that funny-looking brown box on top of our TVs that we could buy for $299 (and eventually $99) at Sears. Dynasty still continues to be one of the major events in many deaf people’s lives when talking about favorite shows. It was probably the first show that everyone actually could talk about week after week – who didn’t love to discuss the outlandish outfits, big hair, and hilarious fights between Krystle and Alexis?

It was on March 16, 1980, that the American deaf population tuned in to watch some of the first staples of American television that were closed captioned by the National Captioning Institute (NCI), including The ABC Sunday Night Movie, The Wonderful World of Disney and Masterpiece Theatre. While there were previous attempts to caption shows such as  ABC News (which was a re-broadcast shown at 11:30 p.m. Eastern, or at 6:30 a.m the next day.) and The French Chef, which first captioned its shows in 1971 by TheCaption Center, 1980 stands out as the year the captioning took hold in television programming.

It’s been three decades since captioning became reality for television owners and we’ve made great strides. We have an almost a full prime-time captioned line-up, have captioned movies, captioned videotapes and captioned/subtitled DVDs; and captioned lectures. By golly, we’ve arrived!

Not so fast, say many captioning experts.

Hurdles and Obstacles
Jay Feinberg, of NCI in Vienna, Va., says that even though the amount of captioned programming is steadily increasing, there’s still not full access. “Unfortunately, there is no good source of information on exactly how much programming is captioned.” Almost all nationally syndicated programs are captioned, but among cable networks, Feinberg says, captioning levels vary considerably.

A major boost has been the Federal Communications Commission (www.fcc.gov). The Television Decoder Circuitry Act mandated built-in captioning decoders in all television sets 13 inches or larger manufactured after July 1993. Congress also passed a law in 1996 that requires video program distributors to phase in closed captioning of their television programs, although the new law does not require captioning of home videos or video games.

Based on the law passed in 1996, the FCC also requires, as of Jan. 1 this year, that at least 50% of all new network shows be captioned. But many feel the obstacle lies in the fact that there are many exceptions, including programs shown between 2 a.m. and 6 a.m., commercials under five minutes long, programs shown on new networks for the first four years of the network’s operations, and video programming providers with annual gross revenues under $3 million.

“I believe most broadcasters are trying to meet the newest requirements, but there are many exemptions,” says Gary Robson, author of two books on captioning and a developer of captioning software. “For all practical purposes, the laws mandate captioning only on broadcast television.”

Robson’s right. Perhaps the most powerful exemption is the one that exempts home videos. In the “old days” of captioning, deaf people would often check the covers of rental videos carefully to see if they were captioned or not. Nowadays, that’s a rare occurrence.

Even so, Bill Stark, project director of the Captioned Media Program, reminds us that there’s still a huge gap between full accessibility and where we are today. “You probably are accustomed to going to a video store and finding most current movies with closed captions. But if you were a teacher of deaf kids and looking for captioned videos, you’d find that under 20% have captions,” he says.

“If you were a parent of a deaf kid and looking for educational captioned CD-ROMs or educational captioned DVDs, or captioned anything, you’d be very frustrated.”

Kelby Brick, a deaf attorney in Laurel, Md., filed a complaint with the FCC against cable company provider Comcast and Court TV for not meeting the Jan. 1 , 2000, requirement of having 25% of its programming captioned. FCC ruled in Brick’s favor, noting that Court TV had voluntarily, as a result of Brick’s complaint, increased the hours of captioning on its network.

These aren’t the only obstacles preventing us from full access to our society. Joe Clark, the Ralph Nader of the captioning industry and considered by many one of the captioning industry’s pests, says that quality of captioning is a serious concern.

“No, quite obviously, we are not at ‘full access yet’,” Clark, an author and accessibility consultant based in Toronto, says. “We would need something approaching 90% captioning on all programming that could be captioned to achieve ‘full access.’ I say 90%, because, as in the Canadian regulations, if you’re captioning 90% you’re probably captioning 100%, and in any event some unavoidable technical problem will come up on a rare occasion.

“Unfortunately, though, quality of captioning, which was never great, has gone steadily downhill…Mom-and-pop captioning shops and postproduction houses who seem to think that captioning is ‘straightforward’ are a pox on the industry.”

He claims that a reason for this is the captioners’ salaries. “Salaries are crap… Moreover, it’s an insult. You’re supposed to be a university graduate with unmatched literacy, and temp secretaries earn more money than you do? Frankly, you might as well work as a phone-sex operator. It’ll earn you a lot more money than captioning.”

Although Clark’s view is a bit extreme, many real-time captioners also work at meetings needing computer-assisted real-time captioning (CART), or in court situations. The equipment basics are the same – and requirements, though for different needs, are basically the same. Many real-time captioners work on a free-lance basis, working for anyone who wants to use CART, with minimal training.

Even so, there are real-time captioning companies that genuinely do provide top-notch, quality services. One such company is Caption First, located in Chicago. Pat Graves, president, says that the company has 12 real-time captioners working for the company who are predominantly certified real-time reporters. The certification is awarded by the National Court Reporters Association (NCRA). Graves is also the chairperson of the NCRA CART Task Force, which “has written a manual and guidelines for professional practice pertaining to CART,” she says.

Brenda Breaux, a real-time captioner in New Orleans who attended college specializing in court reporting, says that she had to pass speed tests starting at 60 words per minute and going as high as 225 words per minute. “I had to pass three tests in three categories – literary, jury charge, and testimony – with 97 percent accuracy. ” She specializes in court reporting and classroom captioning for deaf and hard of hearing students (and also blind students, who have their transcripts transcribed into Braille by the colleges).

“Training for CART providers and TV news captioners requires familiarity and programming of words, or dictionaries, pertaining to each individual job, assignment or news program. The goal is to have 100 percent translation and accuracy, and that comes with an internship and training period,” Graves explains in an e-mail. “We do not allow CART providers and captioners to ‘practice’ on consumers!”

Even with these stringent training requirements, Clark still thinks it’s not enough. Clark has spent decades writing to captioning companies notifying them of captioning errors. Indeed, captioning bloopers are sometimes funny, but mostly they are confusing, especially in times of emergency live newscasts when new vocabulary (the September 11 attacks, for example) may be introduced for the first time to the viewing audience.

He says that often, when tapes are re-encoded (captions being redone to an original, pre-recorded tape) the error is supposedly fixed. “But in practice, even re-encoded tapes – like syndicated episodes of The Simpsons – contain the original errors.” So, Clark says, when a captioner is notified of an error, the captioner should eat the cost of re-encoding the program.

“Now, can you imagine how well that would go over? Captioners would suddenly become accountable, and their errors would suddenly begin to cost them. And I mean, we can’t have that! Not when we’re paying our caption ‘editors’ $20,000 a year!”

Robson thinks another obstacle in achieving full caption accessibility is education. “Despite the huge amount of information about captioning that’s been published, far too many people in the broadcast business don’t understand the fundamentals. Why are they captioning in the first place? What are the captions supposed to accomplish?”

NCI’s Feinberg adds, “The reasons for captioning are complex – a combination of doing the right thing, meeting mandates and technical sophistication. A major effort in the early days of captioning was to make network executives aware of how important it was to people who are deaf and hard of hearing to be able to have the same access to the wide range of entertainment and important news programming on television that hearing people had. Even as awareness increased, budgets were slow to follow.” He credits the U.S. Department of Education funding as being a major boost to the hours of captioned programming available.

The Next Decade
So, in the next decade, what should we expect? Feinberg says most of the changes to come will be invisible to the regular viewer. “Technically, the biggest change will be the conversion to digital television… the current plans for captioning digital television will give viewers control over the appearance of the captions on the screen, such as size, color, and font.” He also believes that continuing advances in computer technology will help captioners provide high-quality captions at lower costs.

Robson, whose wife is a real-time captioner, predicts that captioning will become commonplace. “Ten years from now, it will be difficult to find a person who doesn’t know what captioning is and how to [activate] it on their television set.”

Clark, however, is a bit more pessimistic. “[Captioning] will get worse. More widespread, but worse.”

Perhaps, as has been the case for many years now, most of us will simply continue to discover new captioned shows exactly how Gallaudet University President I. King Jordan did: by surprise.

In the early 1990s, Jordan attended a meeting of the Caption Center advisory board in Boston during the day and then flew home to hurry and attend a black- tie event in the evening in Washington, D.C.

“I can remember rushing into my bedroom to change into a tux and having the TV on while I was dressing. It was turned to the local NBC affiliate and the local news was on,” Jordan recalls. “I was standing there watching and following the news when all of a sudden it hit me. Hey, I can understand this! A local news program was captioned! Live!”

Prior to that, only the national news broadcasts were captioned in the District. Jordan continues, “I was blown away because they hadn’t made a big deal about it, it just appeared. It took years before all the local news was captioned, but now ABC, CBS, NBC and FOX are all captioned live. I think news and, more importantly, emergency coverage captioning is most important, and we have come a long way.”

Special thanks to David Pierce for his technical assistance.

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

Originally appeared in Silent News, February 2002.

I have a little secret to tell you.

I am a ballet failure.

But, ah, I quit ballet for a reason. You see, Sesame Street was on at 5 p.m. daily – the same time as my ballet lessons. So I was given the opportunity to pick one or the other.

My mother’s stern face looked at me with raised eyebrows as she asked me what I wanted to do, and I said happily, “OK! QUIT!” I saw the hope in her face crumbling away. Mom had grown up taking ballet lessons and had often shown me pictures of her dancing on toe in sequined leotards.

But me? In a tutu? Me, a tomboy that preferred to kick a soccer ball into the faces of boys who aimed for my knees during practice (I’ve got the scars on my legs to prove it)? Seeing Linda Bove on Sesame Street was the greatest highlight of my day when I came home from school. Especially since the show had started being captioned – I could now finally tell my friends who my favorite characters were. To this day it’s Telly and the monsters that communicate by honking their noses.

I remember my father trying to make my mom – who can speak well – lipread entire conversations on TV, getting annoyed with her when she would sign, “Hold on, hold on” with her eyes fixated on the people’s mouths. And I would watch diligently along with Dad, trying to learn what I could.

Captioning wasn’t without its drawbacks for my parents, though. One evening, I saw the sentence on the big 27-inch television: “JACK, I’M NOT A VIRGIN.” Mom was in another room, so I asked Dad, “What’s a virgin?” My dad stammered, and after a long pause, said a little too quickly, “Someone who’s never been kissed!”

Later that night, as Mom was giving me my bath, I proudly said that I was not a virgin. After picking up the bar of soap that suddenly slipped out of her hands, Mom asked me in shaky signs, “Trudy, what does virgin mean?” I gleefully announced that I had been kissed, and therefore not a virgin!

She immediately went to give my father a lesson in telling the truth after teaching me about the birds and bees.

These all are, of course, because of the advent of closed captioning early in my life. I grew up with access to television, though I definitely remember the days before captioning (and because I am a night person by nature, I often have to flip through channels repeatedly until I can find something captioned at three or four a.m., usually Law & Order reruns).

I was fortunate to have parents who were fluent in my language, so I always had communication access 24 hours a day, 7 days a week; I had this even with my hearing family members, who always had paper and pen ready to communicate with me if they didn’t know the signs. Even so, there’s nothing like a movie that the entire family can watch together.

At the public junior high school I attended along with 50 other deaf children, the deaf kids in my crowd and I would always bring the newspaper’s television guide to school. At lunchtime or during classes together, we would all agree to watch whatever movie of the week that night. The next day we would gather to discuss the movie, its characters and plot, and determine our opinions on the movie’s results.

An early movie club, I guess. And these ‘discussions’ were only made possible through the movies being captioned. I remember learning what domestic violence was when my mother and I watched Farrah Fawcett in The Burning Bed. It was the first time I understood the powerlessness of women in some relationships – and their choices – and it’s served me well throughout life. In high school, I was able to keep up with current events, thanks to closed captioning. My two-hour humanities course during my senior year required that we keep a log of television news broadcasts during the Gulf War. I wouldn’t have been able to do that if not for closed captioning.

I believe we’ve got a long way to go. I’m guilty of sometimes accepting too quickly that a show isn’t captioned, and wondering if it’s ever going to be (or suddenly stop being captioned, like many of the shows on The Learning Channel, such as Trading Spaces). All I have to do is write letters, and draw attention to the fact. It takes time and commitment, but if we all collectively write letters – polite, clear letters – we’d probably make more of an impact.

I would still choose Oscar the Grouch over a showing of The Nutcracker on television any day.

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

Originally appeared in Silent News, December 2001.

In 1982, deaf-owned mail order businesses primarily consisted of selling TTYs and decoders. Today, these businesses sell everything from TTYs to pagers to books to posters to, yes, even signing stuffed animals. “In the beginning, TTYs were very ‘hot-selling.’ At that time, there was no such state equipment distribution programs to give away free TTYs. The deaf community had substantial economic clout,” Bob Harris remembers.

Bob is the man behind Harris Communications, a deaf-owned mail order business celebrating its 20th anniversary in 2002. The business started in the basement of Bob’s townhouse in Fridley, Minn., a far cry from its facilities today in Eden Prairie, Minn.

To understand how Harris Communications has reached its 20th anniversary, one must learn about Bob Harris. Bob has long been a champion for deaf rights, deaf empowerment and deaf entrepreneurship. But very few people know that he also has a doctorate in clinical psychology; that he was an athlete in high school; and that his father was also a businessman.

Bob was born in Chicago, and his family moved to Milwaukee immediately afterwards. A bout with spinal meningitis left Bob profoundly deaf at the age of eight months, but he was not diagnosed until two years of age. Upon discovering his deafness, Bob was immediately enrolled in speech therapy and his mother became involved with a correspondence course offered through the John Tracy Clinic. Bob eventually attended a public school in Shorewood, Wis., a suburb of Milwaukee, where he was mainstreamed for a few classes but spent most of his time in “deaf” classes.

“When I went to Shorewood High School, I was fully mainstreamed. I did not have any interpreter or notetakers at all,” Bob wrote in a 1989 Deaf American article. “I did not understand regular teachers at all. I was really bored and very restless… I was very angry. I often complained to my parents about how much time I had wasted in regular classes.”

At Shorewood High, Bob lettered in several sports, including basketball, cross-country, track and football. “My excellence in sports gave me a sense of confidence and an opportunity to win the respect and friendship from hearing classmates,” he wrote in Deaf American.

After high school, Bob visited Gallaudet College (now University). There, he was blown away by the accessibility of communication. “I did not know sign language at that time – I had too much pride as an oralist,” he wrote. He decided to attend Lake Forest College instead because he had heard that another deaf student was attending the college as well. After a difficult four years, he graduated with a degree in psychology. During this time, Bob was introduced to Dr. McCay Vernon, a well-known psychologist, in 1968. “For the first time in my life, I had someone to look up to… I did not have any career education at all. I told Dr. Vernon about my dream of becoming a superintendent. He warned me that hearing people might not be ready to accept a deaf person as a superintendent.” Vernon instead suggested that Bob think about becoming a psychologist, and they discussed the possibility of Bob attending Gallaudet as an exchange student to learn about deaf culture and the deaf community.

Bob did just that, attending Gallaudet for one semester in the fall of 1969. After graduation from Lake Forest with honors and being elected to Phi Beta Kappa, Bob attended New York University for a five-year doctoral program in clinical psychology – this time, with interpreting services. Completing his courses in 1973, he relocated to Rochester, N.Y., to work as a psychology intern, where he completed his doctoral studies in 1976. He was lured to Minnesota with a position at St. Paul-Ramsey Medical Center, where he worked as a clinical psychologist.

So how did Bob go from being a high school athlete to a well-educated psychologist to company owner? Throughout his studies, Bob had always had a personal interest in business and economics. He credits this interest to his father’s business marketing experience. “I picked up a lot of things which contributed to my pre-business personality traits,” Bob remembered. “In 1959, my father established his own entrepreneurship as the president of a new lumber company.”

Bob worked for his father during his high school and college years. “I learned very quickly that there was no future for me as a business man. My speech was never intelligible. There were no TDDs, interpreters, dual message systems, or television decoders… I did not see how I could communicate with hearing customers or hearing employees at my father’s office,” his Deaf American article said.

While at St. Paul-Ramsey Hospital, he began to become more serious and expand on his interest in finance and stock investing. To help ease communication barriers, Bob asked his stockbroker and real estate partner to purchase TTYs – and they asked him to find a discount. Bob called Krown Research to see if he could get a discount for quantity orders. Krown then suggested that he become a TTY dealer to receive a ten-percent discount. This was only a side job for Bob – nowhere near even a part-time job. However, he got laid off from his psychologist position, and eventually went through a series of mundane jobs. Suddenly, Bob began to receive more and more orders for TTYs without really knowing the reason, so he decided to devote more time to the business. During this time, he studied trade shows, developed flyers and marketing materials, packed and shipped orders, and even performed bookkeeping.

To alleviate the issue of voice calls, Bob contracted with a private service that had a TTY as part of a dual message relay service. Voice calls were forwarded to his answering service. The small, part-time order business became officially the TTY/TDD Distributor of Minnesota in 1982.

Even so, Bob was never satisfied with his business. He knew there was room for growth, room for increase in revenue. He continued his studies of trade shows and other businesses. But one frustration persisted: the phone calls he had to handle. “I knew that I could solve it by hiring an interpreter or a hearing secretary answer voice calls for me, but it would cost me a lot of money. One way or another, I knew I had to make a decision whether to undertake a risk and contribute my monies to business to hire a hearing person and hope to expand my business. I decided to go for it,” Bob wrote.

In 1985, he subcontracted with a handicraft store to rent a warehouse and pay the personnel on a monthly fee to handle phone calls and orders. Eventually, the company grew and he changed the name to Harris Communications in November 1985. For several years, he continued to practice psychology in the afternoons while running Harris Communications.

Today, the company has 32 employees, and Bob has no time to practice psychology anymore. Bob is pensive about the changes he has seen over the past twenty years in the area of technology and what he calls “deaf economic clout.”

By economic clout, he refers to the power to help control the deaf market in TTYs, decoders, pagers and other necessary devices. Initially, TTYs were the best selling device – then closed captioning decoders began selling in the early 1980s. “It added further to the deaf community’s economic clout. Since deaf people had to pay for both the TTYs and the decoders, they were really empowered,” Bob explained. “They had to make their own budget priorities so that they could save sufficient monies to purchase these devices for independent living.”

Then statewide distribution programs began providing TTYs and other devices at no or low cost, and Bob feels this impacted that clout greatly. With the growth of these programs, in addition to government regulations requiring that all TVs bigger than 13 inches have built-in captions. “As a result,” Bob said, “There were less opportunities for deaf business owners and deaf customers to interact with each other.”

However, Bob feels that the growth of technology in the past five years has brought the shift back onto deaf buying power, with mainstream companies taking advantage of the two-way pager phenomenon and with deaf people becoming employed in the technology sector. “There also has been a boom interest in many deaf communities to host deaf entertainment trade shows, creating a new era of entertainment for the deaf community who enjoy looking at new products, attending entertainment shows, socializing with old friends and meeting new faces, building up a sense of deaf pride, and participating in door prize contests.”

Bob cites milestones such as the move from the basement to the office, as a big transition, in addition to the marketing efforts the company undertook in 1991 when they began using a one-stop catalog rather than leaflets for advertising. “Previously, we had to make copies of different brochures from different suppliers and put them together in mass mailings. This transition [to the catalog] allowed our company to create a new corporate image as a one-stop shopping source.”

However, this doesn’t mean Harris Communications doesn’t have more plans for the future. “We hope to continue the Harris tradition of providing excellent customer services while searching for good quality products that are user-friendly,” Bob said.

“I founded my business in serving the deaf community because I love working with the deaf people and, eventually in later years, the hard of hearing community. My business would never have been what we are now, without ongoing and loyal support from these communities For this part, I salute to them for their economic clout.”

Bob sees a bright future for both Harris Communication and the deaf and hard of hearing communities. “Thanks to the [Americans with Disabilities Act] regulations and Internet-based technology as a powerful tool in closing gaps between deaf and hearing communities with respect to information dissemination and telecommunication, the future is bright for deaf people to pursue in establishing entrepreneurships. In doing so, we will see more economic clout in the deaf community.”

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

Originally appeared in Silent News, October 2001.

I write this with a heavy heart.

A week ago today, the world seemed to end for many of us. And it did end for many people. Far too many people.

It’s convenient to think of the victims in numbers. “700, 5,000, 100.” That makes it seem all the more horrifying, all the more tragic. But start breaking the numbers down and you realize that each number represents that many personalities, that many hearts, and that many souls.

In the hours after the plane crashes, all of us reached out to each other. I, as I’m sure many of you did, received many, many e-mails from all over the world asking me if I was alive, if I was okay, especially since I am two hours from either Washington, D.C. or New York City.

So, on that day, people reached out to me and I reached out to my friends, one in particular – Moshe, a dear friend who I had met on a flight. He works as a financial analyst, and had flown out of New York City just a short time before the crashes. As soon as he landed in Ohio, he rented a car and drove all day and night to return to his wife and five kids in Long Island. He and I had somewhat of a spat the week before, but when he responded from the air saying he was alive, we immediately forgot about our silly quarrel.

I then learned that one of the Kesslers, who have a home just down the street from mine, had been next to the World Trade Center. After I interviewed them on Sept. 13, I went home, got my dog and took her to the local park as I do every day. Only, on this day, the park was completely deserted except for a man jogging around the pond wearing a t-shirt that had the U.S. flag on it, and a father with his son playing. I walked my dog a little, replaying and replaying what I had just been told by the Kesslers.

The more I thought about their words of what they had experienced, the more stunned I became. I sat down on a bench. Watching the lone jogger, I saw a flagpole next to the pond that I’d never noticed before, and the flag was at half-mast. I looked down and watched my dog, wearing an American flag bandanna around her neck sniffing innocently on the ground. Ducks swam by.

I started crying and feeling horribly guilty about being able to go to the park. The images from the past 48 hours of being glued to my television finally came down on me all at once – especially the footage I’d seen of people falling the night before. It all was so incomprehensible to me. I sat there, sobbing for about ten minutes in complete anguish and feeling completely afraid for my family, my friends and myself.

I’d like to say that someone came over and comforted me and then I knew everything would be okay. That’s not what happened. I got up, finished walking the dog, and still was crying by the time I went home. How could I not? All these people died.

Today, a week later, I went to the food store and saw people break down in tears in the aisles. I still cry even as I write this. We’re still in deep mourning, and will be for a long time to come.

We have united and shown a strong front, but we should also not forget our fears. Just over ten years ago, when President George Bush declared that we were going to war, I sat in frozen fear. I was a senior in high school. But my fears were quickly washed away with our easy victory. Other priorities, while always existent, eventually brushed my patriotism aside.

Our worst fears were confirmed again on September 11, and they may well be confirmed again and again. All we can do, though, is try and remember the individuals – not groups, but individuals – who died. We as a nation must weep. But we must also ensure that our patriotism, our love, and our remembrance do not wear off like ten years ago.

I have a card a coworker gave me years ago when there was a death in my family. It has a few lines inspired by a Greek verse. I think what it says is the best thing we can do right now, in addition to never forgetting.

Hope, it conquers the sorrow.
Shout, it eases the heartache.
Cry, it soothes the pain.
Pray, it becomes peace.

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

Originally appeared in Silent New, August 2001.

Sun, fun, and entertainment were the key features of the 17th national conference of the Registry of Interpreters for the Deaf, held Aug. 6-11 in Orlando, Fla. 1,702 registrants participated in the conference, just beating out 1999’s record of 1,600 attendees.

The opening ceremonies featured Paul Wesselman, a motivational speaker who had the audience laughing immediately with his quips and stories. This year’s conference featured a stunning list of workshops and activities in a staggered format designed to provide participants with more opportunities to earn continuing education units (CEUs). “There were a possible 6.4 CEUs for participants if they attended preconference and conference events, which comes out to 64 hours of training and professional development,” RID President Ben Hall said. “That is really exciting, because it shows that our interpreters were truly afforded opportunities to further their skills and knowledge.”

Laurie Hunter, senior conference coordinator, said, “We decided to go with five general themes to fit in with the overall conference theme of ‘Tapestry of Our World.’ They included: the world around us, the world within us, our professional world, our future world, and why in the world do you want to be a leader?”

A noticeable feature of the conference was the international presence. Jay Scirratt, public relations coordinator for RID, said, “We had individuals representing ten countries, including Venezuela, Australia, Puerto Rico, Cuba, Brazil, Belgium, Germany, and others. It was just fascinating, and we were really pleased with their participation.”

“There was a woman who came from Brazil. She had to save up $65 per month for nine months to be able to purchase a plane ticket to Orlando. This woman only earns $200 a month, and for her to have to spend such a large chunk of her salary for the plane fare alone really touched home for me,” Hall said.

The conference wasn’t only about workshops, though. There were various features, including regional meetings, special interest group gatherings, and Child of Deaf Adults (CODA) gatherings. On Thursday night, what originally started out as a small gathering of CODAs turned into a get-together of 115 people at a local restaurant.

Also noticeable was the high visibility of deaf participants, including representatives from the National Association of the Deaf. NAD, which historically has had a difficult relationship with RID, has over recent years built a strong and cooperative relationship. NAD President Libby Pollard, Executive Director Nancy Bloch, Associate Director of Programs Nancy Rarus, and American Sign Language Teachers Association (ASLTA) President Leslie Greer were all active participants in many of the proceedings.

There were approximately 30 participants at the Deaf Caucus meeting, a group comprised of deaf interpreters that considers the roles of deaf people and interpreters within the interpreting profession. Concerns brought up at the meeting included the need of workshops to become more deaf-friendly, increased recognition of deaf interpreters, and more training opportunities at the advanced level for deaf interpreters.

A memorial was held for Lou Fant, one of the co-founders of RID who recently passed away. A slide presentation was shown, along with Fant’s wife, Barbara Bernstein, in attendance. “I am glad the RID honored my pop as I know, from our many talks, he felt that the RID’s mission is vitally important to opening the broader world to deaf people,” Fant’s son Lorn said.

He added, “It also warms me greatly that a professional organization can set aside time to remember Pop’s humanity with the slideshow and photo presentation…though I probably could have done without such a public showing of my 1970s fashion choices.”

JohnMark Ennis, an interpreter from the Washington, D.C. area who had just arrived from the Deaflympics in Rome said, “The RID for the most part was terrific. Most of the sessions were informative, but the best part about the conference was that it allowed me to meet many old friends, make new friends, and to network. It was well worth the trip.”

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

Originally appeared in Silent News, March 2001.

A recent article in the St. Cloud Times (Minnesota) sparked angry reaction from local deaf people. Columnist Rachel Wolinski wrote an article entitled, “Some Deaf People Limit Their World,” saying, “Imagine a world without sound…Imagine not even knowing that pancakes make a sizzling sound when they cook or that the rain softly drips off the roof of a house.”

She also wrote, “It is unrealistic to believe that one’s communication needs can be completely met by actively refusing to try to learn to speak… One doesn’t see too many people with mobility issues refusing to use wheelchairs or prosthetics or going to physical therapy simply because they believe in an ‘immobile culture’. It is a shame that these extreme activists are not only impeding their own learning experiences and limiting their communication, but they are essentially closing off the world to the wonderful learning experiences and challenges of communication.”

Deann Dirkx, president of the St. Cloud Deaf Club, was outraged by the article. “I am angry about this article because of the negativity Ms. Wolinski gave about the Deaf community, making [us] look bad. The article made me feel insulted and oppressed… I am angry because we are working hard to be recognized in the hearing community, our reputations soaring as we educate others about Deaf culture and American Sign Language. I feel all this hard work deserves better recognition than the negative comments from Ms. Wolinski.”

Amy Bursch, an interpreter in St. Cloud, agreed with Dirkx’s sentiments. ” As someone who is often in a position of viewing the two cultures collide, I see the difference in the service, treatment and respect I receive as opposed to the treatment, service and respect Deaf parents/consumers receive. At times it is equal, but often it is not.”

Bursch, who has worked in the field of deafness for 15 years – ten in vocational rehabilitation – added, “The damage an article such as this can have is far more outreaching than we can imagine. For the hearing people who already have misunderstandings of Deaf culture and Deaf people, this just reaffirms their beliefs. For a person who has yet to form thoughts regarding deafness, it plants the wrong impression. An article of this nature re-enforces oppressing ethnocentric behaviors.”

Roberta*, a St. Cloud resident who received a cochlear implant at age 15 and no longer uses it, said, “Why was I angry? Because in one fell swoop, this opinion writer destroyed years of hard work on the part of the deaf community to educate the hearing public. At least, there was the potential for that and it was headed that way – but I think [the deaf community’s] response not only prevented that, we maybe even got ahead a little bit in the end. The response of the general public in response to our outcry was amazing.”

The St. Cloud Deaf Club, along with deaf community members nationally, bombarded the St. Cloud Times with letters and postings on their online message boards.

Wolinski, who did not respond to requests from Silent News, wrote in a posting online, “In all honesty, my intent in writing this article was not to oppress or bring down people who are deaf. In fact, I have a great respect for anyone living with a disability. My own son has mild [cerebral palsy]. My sole purpose was to reach out and share an opinion about how we can close the communication gap between these two groups. There are militant deaf people who simply will not acknowledge that there is any other language than ASL. But there are people in between and there are hearing people, also.”

Dirkx said in a posting online, “When thinking about deaf culture, realize there is a barrier dividing people who are deaf from hearing people, and it is communication. A large portion of deaf culture revolves around this fact of life. Lack of communication inhibits the interaction between people. So, to overcome this, many people who are deaf key in on socialization…we do have a culture, and that’s how we live…and we’re happy with the way we live.”

Roberta said, “I was very upset when I first read the column and the initial responses on the bulletin board, but I had an experience [after that] that put this in perspective for me. We had a houseful of Deafies over and a good friend of mine and I were sitting on the couch discussing this article. He has been deaf since birth while I have not, and he is culturally Deaf (I don’t call myself that just because I didn’t learn ASL until later in life, but I do feel this is my community). He said about the column and Wolinski’s opinion, ‘I am happy with myself, anyway,’ with a big smile on his face. And I said, ‘You know what? I am happy with myself, too.’ We then shook hands and smiled some more.”

“It’s all about acceptance and open minds. We accept each other and are open to diversity, and it makes us happier people,” she added.

Wolinski, who is a nursing student, has a sister who is profoundly deaf, was raised in an oral program. and currently has a cochlear implant. She wrote, “I have met some of the militant deaf people who will not have anything to do with hearing aids, [cochlear implants], or other deaf people who use these things. Although I don’t think this particular group is abundant in the St. Cloud area, I think it is an interesting phenomenon to think about and something that we should be all aware of.”

Roberta said, “I think Wolinski and those of her mindset would be happier people if they could live and let live.”

*Name has been changed.

ORIGINAL ARTICLE:

Some deaf people limit their world

By Rachel Wolinski
St. Cloud Times
January 25, 2001

Imagine a world without sound, a world that envelops you in complete, isolating silence. Imagine, not even knowing that pancakes make a sizzling sound when they cook or that the rain softly drips off the roof of a house. This is the life that a profoundly deaf person lives in. She doesn’t hear the voices of her family. She cannot even comprehend the whispering of the wind. She laughs in silence, cries in silence and lives in silence. Some deaf people and their families believe that this way of life is meant to be. They use sign language as their only means of communication and refuse to augment their sound with hearing aids or other assistive devices. They believe that getting a cochlear implant (a device surgically implanted behind the ear to stimulate hearing) is denying a deaf culture. They shy away from close friendships with hearing people and deaf people who prefer speech and lip reading as their main form of communication. Some even go so far as to shun a friend who chooses to try to live in a “hearing world.” While this is an idealistic view that deaf people have their own culture, language and identity because of their impairment, it seems unreasonable to deny the fact that one is living in a society that is mainly hearing. It is unrealistic to believe that one’s communication needs can be completely met by actively refusing to try to learn to speak. While it is commendable that the “deaf culture” wants to have their own society of sorts, it leaves a bad taste in the mouths of those who strive for equality in a world that is filled with so many racial, social, cultural and gender barriers. The American Disabilities Act has worked to create equal rights and access for people with many different disabilities. While we still have a long way to go in accommodating the needs of the deaf in terms of installing TTYs (a typing device that allows telephone use) in public places, we are constantly working to create an environment where hearing and deaf people can live and communicate together. When a deaf person refuses to learn to speak and communicate with a hearing person because he or she believes strongly in “deaf culture,” it completely undermines what we as a community and society are trying to accomplish. One doesn’t see too many people with mobility issues refusing to use wheelchairs or prosthetics or going to physical therapy simply because they believe in an “immobile culture.” It is a shame that these extreme activists are not only impeding their own learning experiences and limiting their communication, but they are essentially closing off the world to the wonderful learning experiences and challenges of communication.

Rachel Wolinski, mother of three children, is pursuing a nursing degree. Her column is published the fourth Thursday of each month.

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

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.