Transcriber: Rhonda Jacobs Reviewer: Nadine Hennig
(Overlapping voices; electronic sounds)
When you think of Girl Scout cookies, you think of your top one or two flavors:
Thin Mints, Peanut Butter Patties, Shortbread.
And when you get your order form from your dealer --
I mean Girl Scout cookie hook-up, (Laughter)
you scan the list and stock up on your favorite one or two.
But what if you live in a world where you are told
that there were only two Girl Scout cookie flavors.
And if you didn't like those flavors, you never knew what else they had.
I want to tell you a story about my friend Wayne.
Wayne was DeafBlind.
And on occasion in my DeafBlind interpreting course
where I would teach people how to work as sighted guides
working with DeafBlind people,
I would offer the opportunity for students to go
and take Wayne grocery shopping, so he could get his sweet fix.
Now Wayne communicated differently from many other DeafBlind people
in that every letter of every word was fingerspelled into his hand.
One day as my student is leaving the grocery store with Wayne.
She stops to let him know
that there are Girl Scouts selling cookies outside.
She lists the flavors:
Thin Mints, Shortbread, Peanut Butter Patties.
And she listed and spelled out every variety of cookie.
And Wayne's reply was: "No, that's new."
"They've only ever had Thin Mints and Shortbread."
And my student said,
"No, they've always had all of these flavors."
And they went back and forth and what became clear in that moment
was that no one had ever told him.
He didn't know, because it took too long to fingerspell.
He was blind, and my student could have bypassed the Girl Scouts
and headed straight for the car.
No one ever let him know that there are 12 Girl Scout cookie varieties.
One in five people have a disability, either hidden or visible.
How many of you know someone who has a disability?
Twenty percent is a large enough percentage of the population,
it's worth examining our attitudes about this.
When I was first learning about American Sign Language
and Deaf culture -- capital "D" Deaf --
I was learning about my identity as a "hearing" person.
A term I'd never considered before.
My Deaf and hearing teachers were able to communicate
the hearing majority's long history
of oppression, injustice and discrimination
perpetrated on Deaf people.
I was getting it for the first time,
and I didn't really realize that what I was really doing --
not just learning a second language --
was being a part of a social justice movement.
I wasn't looking at a group that needed help,
but rather seeing that group as a cultural and linguistic minority
that they already are.
As I mentioned, my specialization is working with DeafBlind people.
And the DeafBlind community's premium cultural value centers on touch.
As Deaf people communicate using visual ASL,
DeafBlind people communicate using Tactile ASL.
And what that really means
is it's not just about interpreting what is heard,
but rather interpreting what is seen -- the environmental, visual
and attitudinal information in an environment.
Is this a busy environment like Grand Central Station at rush hour?
Or a happy moment because two people just got married?
Or an emotional and somber moment, like the recent Charleston massacre?
As hearing-sighted people, we take for granted
our access to this information
and cannot comprehend what it might take to communicate this by hand
with a DeafBlind individual.
I continue to do this work because of those early learnings
around justice and the Deaf community's quest for fairness and visibility
and access and their experiences with discrimination and prejudice.
As I was newly understanding my identity as a hearing and sighted person
and the privilege that that comes with, I was coming out
as a lesbian-identified, bisexual feminist.
And I was clearly understanding the connection
to those other social justice movements like the one for LGBTQ liberation.
I was understanding that those are connected,
and it was about making sure that we understand
how discrimination plays out in those communities.
I understood that I was a minority within a minority
as a lesbian-identified, bisexual feminist within the gay and lesbian community.
But also understood my place in the majority,
as a hearing and sighted person working with the Deaf community
and the DeafBlind subset of that community.
Some of those individuals are queer too.
And my passion in teaching is in educating and highlighting
those intersections of identity.
And ensuring that students I work with are multiculturally competent,
and professional when working with those communities.
Here in the United States, we've come to understand
that roughly 10% of the population identify as lesbian, gay, bi or trans.
And yet we still see anti-LGBTQ extremists engaging in coercive, destructive
and harmful practices to "convert" and attempt conversion treatments
to make people straight.
This has largely been debunked and discredited
because we recognize and have accepted that people just are LGBTQ.
Our society and culture is becoming less heterosexist
and more accepting of sexual orientation
and gender identity.
Yet we do not offer that same course of acceptance
when children are born Deaf or DeafBlind.
Over 90% of children who are Deaf are born to hearing parents.
And over 80% of those parents do not learn their child's language.
(Sigh) I understand that parents want their child to be like them.
I do.
But instead of taking the opportunity to enculturate
and grow up a proud Deaf individual,
the focus skews and obsesses on
their so-called "brokenness," their "impairment,"
because the parents don't want to learn sign language.
And that effort on trying to "fix" them and "correct" them
can lead to focus on surgeries and speech therapy.
That driving belief is rooted in "audism".
Audism is the belief that one is superior based on their ability to hear,
or that life without hearing is futile and miserable.
Those driving beliefs and behaviors when working with Deaf kids
can lead to lifelong feelings of inadequacy and poor self-image.
As a parallel, if we could determine from birth
that a child would be born LGBTQ,
and we could set about on a course to change their orientation,
would we do this?
What would that look like even in the child's early years of life?
I don't think we would do this.
And yet our privilege assumes everyone wants to be heterosexual.
But not everyone is heterosexual...
or hearing.
Social justice is based on concepts of human rights and equality.
It's about challenging injustice and systems of oppression
like racism, heterosexism, ableism, and yes, audism.
When we address audism in our social justice framework
and tap into the largely untapped
Deaf and DeafBlind communities for their leadership,
we have the opportunity to grow,
and I promise you they are already regularly engaging
in social justice discourse.
But the mainstream social justice framework isn't paying attention
because of their own language barrier.
If you leave here today and question, What can I do?
Is there something I can do to participate in dismantling audism?
I want to give you five things you can do
to take away and work to be more mindful about linguistic access.
Number 1:
While the ADA covers medical appointments and the like,
when planning an event, budget for interpreters
and promote the event as ASL interpreted.
Interpreting is a credentialed profession and not a volunteer service.
If the other professionals are being paid for the event, so should the interpreters.
And there are qualified hearing "and" Deaf interpreters to suit your needs.
And leave it to the Deaf participants and the interpreters
to work out best visual access and sight line.
Number 2:
When you have an opportunity to use a microphone, use the mic.
I can't tell you how many times I go to events and someone will say,
"Does anyone need me to use this?"
Well, you may be amazing at vocal projection...
The soundwaves amplify differently through a microphone.
And for someone who's newly experiencing a hearing loss,
it can be very vulnerable to ask for that accommodation.
And more than likely, they're going to disengage and pull away
for fear of being perceived as too high maintenance.
Number 3:
I see a lot of energy and emphasis on teaching hearing people
who don't know ASL, how to sign songs.
Put the real energy into learning phrases
that would actually gain you a new relationship with a Deaf person.
What are the things you want to know
when you're meeting and engaging with new people?
"Do you want to play on the swings?"
"Do you like sprinkles on your ice cream?"
"Wow, you are really good at spread sheets." (Laughter)
"Do you want to join us for happy hour?"
ASL is an interactive language meant to be practiced
with real, live Deaf and DeafBlind people.
And you really do get an "A" for effort when you show up and try.
Number 4:
When you find yourself in a situation with a Deaf person and an interpreter,
talk directly to the Deaf person.
The interpreter is there because you don't know sign language...
yet.
Remove power-differential language, like, "Tell him..." or "Tell her..."
Number 5:
When you find yourself in a situation with a Deaf person without an interpreter,
use natural gesture, paper and pen, your smart phone text box.
You can even download an app and learn a few signs
and all of that will be helpful to getting your point across.
Linguistic access is a social justice issue,
because it's about inclusion.
And when we take the time to practice courage and "be fearless,"
and when we question and pause
and reflect on our own hearing-sighted privilege,
and see a person requesting access as whole...
and just different
rather than "impaired,"
we have the opportunity to grow and learn.
And it's worth it.
Because it could take time
but in the end it's about validation
and dignity and "full" participation.
And maybe even...
Girl Scout cookies.
(Applause, cheers)