Quality of Life and the Disabled

When I was growing up I heard people talk about quality of life (QOL) versus quantity. As a little girl this didn’t make much sense to me, but in time I learned that most of us want our lives to be long, happy and healthy. I never really thought about this much until I lost my ability to speak normally around the age of twelve. Almost immediately, creating a good QOL for myself was all I could think about. Quantity didn’t even matter.

Growing up, my parents were always trying to make ends meet. Their exhaustion and struggles around finances seemed to produce a constant flow of emotional volatility and dysfunction in our family. I often felt like I was walking on eggshells around my parents, so my QOL wasn’t great to begin with. Then, when I could barely communicate and had no diagnosis for my problem, things got worse. When this happened in the 1960s I was so lost and had such little support that my overwhelming concern was how to make each waking moment okay. I had lots of thoughts like, “How can I avoid struggling to speak with someone?” Or, “I hope I won’t fail but I don’t know how I’m going to get through the report I’m supposed to do at school today.”

My young life became so filled with moment-to-moment challenges that I never sat down and thought, “What does quality of life” mean to me? However, my QOL and the lack of a good one made it more obvious every day that all I wanted was a peaceful home life, to not feel anxious, and to have some kind of inner peace.

Once I was out of my parents’ house and living on my own, my biggest concern became money. I didn’t want to merely survive and eke out a living; I wanted to enjoy life. Still, since my speech was so problematic and I was living in an age where everyone used their voice and the telephone to communicate, my job possibilities were limited. I began to equate a good QOL with one’s standard of living so I thought if I could find a decent job where I used my mind but didn’t have to use my voice, maybe I’d have a chance to lead something of “the good life.” But it was hard. I settled for many jobs that I disliked, where I gained little reward financially or otherwise. I budgeted like crazy and watched every cent I made. I was fired from one job due to my speech and the condition of my voice made me feel very insecure at other jobs. There was little stability in my earning power, but I never gave up. I knew I had to keep going.

Of course, I envied people whose lives seemed easier, and I would periodically break down from the frustration of my situation. To compensate, I overindulged in lots of bad behavior and reckless affairs. I hoped all the drugs and rock ‘n’ roll would help me forget my struggles and up my QOL, but nothing changed.

This went on into my thirties, but then things began to shift. I lost some very significant people – friends and family, including my mother. I also put down two of my most beloved pets. After each passing I asked myself the same question. What was the quality of their life? Were they happy? With every answer I asked the same of myself. My life still felt so challenging, but deep down I also felt that I might be what was blocking my way to something better.  

Although I was terrified of honestly facing the blatant truths about my life, I knew I had to. I had to admit that I might never get a diagnosis for my speech condition, that I may never speak well again, and I may never have a good job. Once I faced these hard realities, I felt relieved. I wasn’t even depressed because I suddenly realized that, although my disability placed all kinds of limitations on me, it also forced me to find out who I was on the inside. It pushed me to discover that I was strong and courageous, so I could improve my life condition in spite of whatever obstacles I might have.

It was fascinating to see that once I faced my disability honestly and accepted everything that came with it, there was no longer a need to fight it in any way. I began to feel much healthier on the inside because I finally recognized the best parts of myself, and this gave me a tremendous sense of power and pride. Interestingly, this switch in my perspective seemed to almost effortlessly produce a much more pleasant life on the outside too. Eventually I was diagnosed, given treatments that enable me to speak, and learned sign language to have a job that is fulfilling.

I believe that most people, whether they are disabled or not, think much more about their QOL when they are personally faced with an adversity. I will always wonder if my disability helped me deal with life’s challenges more easily than others, merely because it was forced on me. Perhaps if I didn’t feel so pressed to face my challenges and work creatively around them, I would be a totally different person. I don’t know.

What I do know is that being disabled has played a key role in creating “the good life” I now live. Although money has little part in this, I consider myself to be enormously wealthy. It is a wealth that gives me a happy and peaceful feeling on the inside, and that seems to naturally result in the same on the outside too. Again, I don’t know if I gained this wealth because my disability demanded me to dig deeper to recognize my strengths, but I suspect that many people with disabilities may have acquired such wealth too. However, this wealth certainly isn’t just for the disabled. It is a treasure inside each of us just waiting to be found. All it takes is a little courage and some persistent digging around. 

Sign Language Isn’t Only for the Deaf, Part V: Learning Sign Language

Note: As previously mentioned in my blogs from September 2011 and February 2013, Big D for Deaf refers to people who identify themselves as culturally deaf. They will have a strong Deaf identity, attend schools for the Deaf, and mainly associate with other members of the Deaf community. Small d for deaf refers to the condition as well as to deaf people who identify more with the hearing or mainstream, and regard their hearing loss only in medical, not cultural, terms. (From deafness.about.com)

People suddenly stricken with a voice affliction may not want to immediately learn sign language. They may be overwhelmed by the dysfunction or loss of their voice, and the idea of learning a new language may be the last thing on their mind. Like learning any foreign language, it requires time and practice. But, learning sign language is fun and great medicine too. After struggling for decades to be understood with an undiagnosed voice disorder, I was thrilled to be able to learn a means of communication that didn’t rely on my voice.

Some people learn home or made up signs (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Home_sign) and study sign systems like SEE signs (Signing Exact English). These are not part of an official language that will enable you to communicate with others. So, if you’re going to make the effort, you should study the recognized sign language for your native tongue. ASL (American Sign Language) is used in the U.S. Variations of it are also used worldwide as well as in Austria, Canada, Germany, Finland, Malaysia and Norway. Since I am an American whose native tongue is English, I’ll focus on ASL. Here are my suggestions on how to get started.

The first thing you need is a good ASL dictionary. I began my studies with “The American Sign Language Handshape Dictionary” published by Gallaudet University Press. It is organized by the hand shapes that form signs, and not by English words in alphabetical order. I bought it at a used bookstore and it’s been an invaluable part of my learning experience. Of course, there is a vast selection to choose from and something else may better suit you. So, browse your local bookstore’s language section or go online to see what you prefer.

Any good ASL dictionary will include a chart of the ASL alphabet. Learn this first. I used to practice the ASL alphabet when I was walking around town. Since I’m right-handed, I began with that hand and then I learned it with my left. Once you feel comfortable, practice spelling out your name so that you will be able to introduce yourself in ASL. The first sentence I learned was, “Hello, my name is Iris.” In ASL, this is “Hello, my name Iris.” The word “is” is not used.

While you are doing this, you may be interested in looking at http://www.babysignlanguage.com/chart/. This site shows elementary signs and how to practice them. You can print out their chart and put it on the refrigerator or a spot where it will be frequently seen by your family and friends. Or, you may want to purchase their flash cards and carry them around to help you and those around you learn.

Once you feel ready to move onto a more in-depth study, a wonderful site is at http://lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-signs/m/momdad.htm. It provides 100 basic signs, along with a video that demonstrates each one. This makes it easy because you don’t have to figure out which signs to learn. There’s no guesswork involved, just practice.

As your signing grows, you’ll want to visit other sites like ASL Pro at http://www.aslpro.com/cgi-bin/aslpro/aslpro.cgi to develop your skills and better understand how to correctly make the signs. This particular site has thousands of words and phrases. Like many of the other online tutorials, ASL Pro has a video demonstration for each of its signs.

In the past it was almost impossible for many hearing parents to learn sign language, but today there are many free tutorials online that make it convenient. For example, if you live in northern California, you can register at www.csdeagles.com/outreach/vp1.php. This is provided through the California School for the Deaf, featuring twelve weeks of 30-minute classes. If you’re new at this and don’t know anyone who is deaf, you may want to begin by contacting your local school for the deaf. It’s another great place to start.

My guess is that once you begin signing, you’ll get hooked. Starting with books and online classes is fine, but the point of learning any language is to share our thoughts and ideas with others. So, please try to get out and take a class or find a friend or partner who will sign with you on a regular basis.

I chose to learn ASL by attending a two-year program at a local community college. Except for my first instructor who was a CODA (child of deaf adults) and only used her voice during my first class, all of my teachers were Deaf and there was no speaking allowed. This not only taught me the language properly, but it immediately gave me a better insight into the world of the Deaf and their culture – something we learn in the study of any foreign tongue.

If you attend a sign language class, you will also become informed of Deaf events. I urge you to attend as many of these as possible. This is where you will discover a new world, get to share ASL with others, and hone your signing skills. Some people you meet at these events will be hearing, but most will be d/Deaf. Given this opportunity, you will quickly see that, whether your signing skills are good or not, you will be appreciated for your efforts and what comes from inside.

In concluding this series, I hope you will seriously consider learning sign language. The moment I began to learn ASL I felt empowered. Over time, as my skills improved, it opened doors for me that had been closed most of my life. It gave me meaningful work and a confidence in expressing myself that I felt robbed of due to my speech disability. Perhaps, though, the most important thing about learning ASL for me is that it confirmed what I believed to be true when I was barely twelve years old and lost my ability to speak. It taught me that sign language isn’t only for the deaf.

Sign Language Isn’t Only for the Deaf, Part IV: Why Learn How to Sign?

“Necessity is the mother of invention” is a saying that couldn’t be more aptly used than in the formation of sign language. In my past few blogs on this subject, I hope you have gained some understanding of the enormous amount of work and creativity that resulted in what we know today as official sign languages. But, given this and all of the technological wizardry that can help the voiceless be heard, you may still ask: Why should anyone who isn’t deaf learn how to sign?

Personally, as someone who is speech disabled, the most advanced technological device could never replace what comes directly from my heart and mind. I know that a machine can say, “I want to go to dinner,” “Good morning,” and all the other things that I may want to communicate. But, if I want to speak with someone about politics, religion, and philosophy or just offer my personal perspective on life, I want to have the ability to express myself in my own words and in my own way. Sign language provides this.

I am only one of thousands (or perhaps millions) around the globe who is speech impaired. My life is much fuller because I learned how to sign, so I strongly believe that people with ailments like stuttering and speech loss due to illness can also have the same experience.

For instance, those afflicted with Down syndrome have a tongue that is too long so it is difficult for them to speak. According to http://www.altonweb.com/cs/downsyndrome/index.htm?page=useofsigns.html, “Creating signs comes earlier for many children than saying the corresponding word, both for children with Down syndrome and normally developing youngsters. Perhaps the oral motor planning required for talking is more complex than instructions for the hands in signing.”

Additionally, although sign language is also visual, the blind are not totally excluded from using a very important element in signing, called fingerspelling. Looking at the story of Helen Keller, I am reminded that perhaps the most famous blind and deaf person first discovered language through fingerspelling, “the process of spelling out words by using signs that correspond to the letters of the word. There are lots of times when fingerspelling is used, most commonly for naming people, places, movies, books, and brands. Or maybe there is a sign, but it is just as fast or faster to fingerspell the word.” (See: http://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/fingerspelling/fingerspelling.htm)

Before Helen Keller understood language, she learned words. She learned her first word – her first meaningful message – through fingerspelling. Helen Keller wrote, “We walked down the path to the well-house, attracted by the fragrance of the honey-suckle with which it was covered. Someone was drawing water and my teacher placed my hand under the spout. As the cool stream gushed over one hand she spelled into the other the word water, first slowly, then rapidly. I stood still, my whole attention fixed upon the motions of her fingers. Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten, a thrill of returning thought, and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me.” (See: http://www.rnib.org.uk/xpedio/groups/public/documents/publicwebsite/public_keller.hcsp#P31_3846)

Of course, there are many people who don’t learn sign language out of necessity, but do it anyway. When I attended school to learn ASL (American Sign Language) there was one other person like me who was speech disabled. Besides my Deaf instructors, everyone else I met was hearing. Some had a close relative, friend or co-worker who was Deaf and it was important for them to be able to communicate fully with them. For most of the students, though, learning ASL was fun and, like the study of any foreign language, provided a new way of looking at the world. This was 2006 and I then discovered that many American high schools and colleges offered ASL to satisfy foreign language requirements.

This popularity of sign language is also evident among parents who use sign language to teach their babies and toddlers to communicate. “Since hand-eye coordination develops sooner than acquisition of verbal skills, infants can learn simple signs for common words such as eat, sleep, more, hug, play, cookie, and teddy bear before they are able to produce understandable speech.” (See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baby_sign_language) As a result, many studies have proposed that children who began signing before they could speak have an advantage over those who didn’t, like better comprehension, the ability to verbalize their needs earlier, as well as less frustration at getting their basic needs met.

Sometimes I just enjoy the fact that I can use ASL to talk with someone across a crowded room or in a theater or other area where it should be quiet. I’ve also loved using ASL on numerous occasions when I’m in traffic, like at a four-way intersection where no one seems to know who should go first. I just naturally go to my hands and utilize signs that I know everyone will understand. It works like a charm.

If you don’t know how to sign but are interested, I hope you’ll join me for my next blog. I’ll give you some easy steps to help you start learning this incredible language that is not just for the deaf, but for everyone.

Sign Language Isn’t Only for the Deaf, Part III: The Fight To Be Heard

People all over the world have fought for their liberty and the right to speak freely. So have the Deaf. In their case, as well as for anyone without a voice, they have had to fight against a speech and hearing-oriented society that often has refused to see and hear them. Because I am speech disabled, I have experienced this firsthand. As soon as I lost my ability to speak normally around 1960 I started to learn about the ignorance of prejudice. Quickly I found out just how hard it is to be recognized and accepted for who I am, because I happen to be different. Like the Deaf, I have had to learn how to get people to focus on my strengths, not my limitation.

As I mentioned in my previous blog (dated February 24, 2013), sign language was kept alive in America due to the efforts of many. I noted one man in particular – the educator Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet who founded the first school for deaf children in 1817. Gallaudet’s son, Edward Miner Gallaudet, became superintendent and then president of the Columbia Institution for the Instruction of the Deaf and Dumb and Blind. Located in Washington D.C., the school began with eight students and conferred its first degrees in 1864, signed by President Lincoln. Five years later, three graduates received diplomas signed by President Grant, and the presiding U.S. president has continued this tradition ever since. In 1954 the name of the school was changed to Gallaudet College, in honor of Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet. Then, over thirty years later in 1986 after many upgrades and favorable expansions took place, the school was granted university status. Gallaudet University established itself as a thriving center for American Sign Language (ASL) and the educational advancement of Deaf people all over the world.

I learned about Gallaudet University when I began to study ASL. With my lifelong speech problem, I loved knowing that a highly acclaimed American university existed where sign language was the norm. As part of my studies I volunteered for six months at the California School for the Deaf (CSD) and that gave me a hint of what it must be like at Gallaudet. Even with my speech problem, I still had to be reminded many times to sign and not speak at CSD. It was not a quiet place, as deaf people don’t have a hearing person’s concept of sound and may be noisy, but it made me so relaxed and happy to know that I wouldn’t be forced to use my voice.

It was inspiring for me to volunteer at a Deaf school and learn about the success of Gallaudet University. However, I also learned about the far less inspiring side of Gallaudet’s past. Since its inception, Gallaudet never had a Deaf president until March 1988. And, this historic change only came about as the result of a protest where the Deaf were finally heard. It is known as Deaf President Now (DPN).

DPN began when Gallaudet University’s Board of Trustees announced the appointment of the school’s seventh president. Like all of the previous ones, he was hearing. In reaction, the students, staff, faculty and alumni managed to shut down the campus. At the time, a faculty member named Dr. Allen Sussman said, “If deaf persons are not considered good enough to run the university then what’s the point of having a university for deaf people?” (See http://my.gallaudet.edu/bbcswebdav/institution/Deaf%20Eyes%20Exhibit/Awareness-06DPN.htm) After five days of protests and news coverage that was shown around the globe, I. King Jordan, a deaf person, was appointed president.

In one week’s time, DPN became synonymous with self-determination and empowerment for deaf and hard of hearing people everywhere. I. King Jordan's leadership heightened public awareness of the important educational contributions made by Gallaudet University. Yet, although I. King Jordan became a well-known spokesperson for the deaf and people with disabilities, Jordan didn’t grow up Deaf. He was 21 when he lost his hearing so he was deaf according to the establishment’s medical concept of deafness. He came from the hearing world and spoke English. Jordan remained connected to his roots and he never actively advocated ASL or Deaf culture. However, the two presidents appointed since are Deaf and openly embrace both of these things. Gallaudet University, which stands for the educational advancement of the Deaf and ASL, now truly reflects this position.

The history of Gallaudet University is but one example of how those without a voice have to fight to not only be heard, but also understood. My speech disability has taught me a lot about this struggle too. Even in our modern age, the bias and lack of understanding toward those who are unable to speak is pervasive. As Albert Einstein said, “It is harder to crack a prejudice than an atom.” I agree, but I'll keep fighting the fight. To overcome a prejudice is well worth the effort.

Sign Language Isn’t Only for the Deaf, Part II: The Enemies of Sign Language

Note: Big D for Deaf refers to people who identify themselves as culturally deaf. They will have a strong Deaf identity, attend schools for the Deaf, and mainly associate with other members of the Deaf community. Small d for deaf refers to the condition as well as to deaf people who identify more with the hearing or mainstream, and regard their hearing loss only in medical, not cultural, terms. From deafness.about.com

I think that trying to learn and understand ASL (American Sign Language) or any other recognized sign language is as difficult as any foreign language. The difference, though, is that the voice plays no part at all in signing. ASL, like all sign languages, is visual and manual. There is nothing oral about it.

It is because there is no speech in sign languages that there has been and still exists so much opposition to them. This stance against the use of sign languages has been born out of the ignorance and hurtful attitudes that always accompany any kind of prejudice. In this case, the prejudice has a name. It is audism.

As an academic, author, and lecturer on Deaf culture and communication, Tom L. Humphries coined and defined the term audism as an attitude held by people who hear and speak. Their opinion is that, because they can hear and speak, they are superior to those who don’t.

I have been a witness to audism my entire life. I see it frequently played out with parents who don’t learn ASL, even though they have a deaf or hard of hearing child. They expect their child to lip read or even speak. As a little girl with a horrible undiagnosed speech problem, I had the same experience with my parents. Even though I couldn’t even say my name to save my life, I was forced to answer phone calls and my parents expected me to speak normally.

Although there were deaf schools throughout the ages, they were always threatened by oralists. According to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oralism, “Oralism is the education of deaf students through oral language by using lip reading, speech, and mimicking the mouth shapes and breathing patterns of speech, instead of using sign language.”

Oralism has been an enemy of the deaf for eons. Even the church in Spain in the 1500s banned the deaf from communion because they couldn’t confess out loud. In those days the deaf of wealthy families were disinherited to keep up appearances. The nobility sent their deaf children away to schools where they were presumably being taught to speak, holding the belief that speaking was representative of the higher class and, therefore, higher intellect. This was also interpreted to mean that signing was connected to the lower class and lower intellect.

Before the oralist movement ruined the lives and livelihood of many deaf people, there were deaf schools with deaf instructors. There were deaf doctors, lawyers, and deaf people held other respectable positions. However, in the late 1800s one of the worst oralists of all time began to wield his power. I was shocked when I learned that Alexander Graham Bell, inventor of the telephone, made the lives of so many deaf people utterly miserable.

Interestingly, Bell worked on inventing the telephone because his mother and wife were both deaf. He had experimented with different hearing devices and it was this work that led to his most famous invention. Yet, Bell opposed the teaching of sign language, as well as deaf intermarriage and reproduction. As a staunch oralist, he believed that the deaf must assimilate into the hearing world.

There is a very famous event in Deaf history known as the Milan Congress of 1880. It was in Milan, Italy where oralists like Alexander Graham Bell gathered and were able to force their beliefs onto society at large. Bell and his allies were able to begin closing deaf schools all around the world that taught sign language and replace them with oral ones. Not only did this cruelly force the deaf to try to speak and lip read, but it put deaf teachers out of work and, more and more, the deaf became uneducated and unemployed.

Fortunately, there were enough deaf students and adults who still used signing in their private lives. And, with the support of the manual movement by important people like the educator Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet (founder of the first school for deaf children in the United States), sign language was kept alive.

When I learned about all of this I was so saddened to hear how the deaf had to fight just to preserve their means of communication. But, because of my personal experience, I was not shocked. Even though I grew up in the 1960s, what we would think of as modern times, I was also forced to speak when I couldn’t. I was not allowed to learn ASL either. However, by studying this history I realized that millions of other people throughout history were viewed and, most likely, felt like me. Their families and society tried to strip them of their true identity, so they didn’t feel accepted for who they were. Like me, they must have felt isolated because there was no support. Like me, many of them probably felt like failures at times, simply because they couldn’t speak.

By looking at the struggle to keep sign language alive, I hope a normal speaker can better understand the kind of prejudice that has existed and still exists towards those who are physically unable to speak. It is a prejudice that blinds people from seeing that the inability to speak for someone who is speech disabled or deaf is due to a physical limitation and nothing more. And, if anyone should suspect

that the intellect is less because one signs and doesn’t speak, I suggest they learn how to sign as well.

Sign Language Isn’t Only for the Deaf, Part I: Personal Experience, Definition, and History

Even in our modern age, I find there is still a general assumption that ASL (American Sign Language) or any sign language is only for the Deaf. So, in an attempt to educate and enlighten, I am writing numerous blogs about this subject. Since there is such an overwhelming amount of information on sign language, I will only provide you with digestible amounts in each blog. This first part contains a short explanation of my history with it, followed by a description and brief history of sign language.

In September 2011 I wrote a blog titled Another Voice that touched upon my personal experience with sign language. I wanted to learn it as soon as I lost my ability to speak when I was a pre-teen, around 1960. At the time my parents couldn’t accept that there was anything wrong with my speech and wouldn’t let me learn sign language. I, however, accepted my condition from the minute my voice changed and from that moment on I knew I needed help for it. I believed that sign language could give me that help. It would never give me a normal voice, but it would give me what we all want and need. Communication. (See: http://princessfrogspeaks.blogspot.com/2011_09_01_archive.html)

Decades later, I learned ASL and I have been teaching it to deaf and hard-of-hearing children for the last five years. In addition, I have the privilege to work with children who are not deaf but, for one reason or another, cannot or do not speak. When I am with them, I am reminded of myself as a child – feeling helpless and frustrated because I lacked the ability to communicate. With this in mind, I try to teach these children signs as well.

The children that I work with and I are living proof that sign language helps the voiceless. Yet, although it is a full, living language, many people don’t understand what it is.

Sign language is not gesturing. A gesture is a nonverbal way to communicate with the face, hand, or other body part, but these movements are culture-specific. So, the significance of most gestures depends on where they are used. In the language of signs, the hands, arms, face and body are specifically oriented to say something that will be understood the same wherever that specific sign language is used. About 200 sign languages exist in the world today. Wherever deaf people live you will find them in one form or other. Some are legally recognized, and others are not. Like English or any other official language, sign languages have a complete and unique structure. One can discuss anything using sign language. One cannot do this with gestures. Gestures are random movements and, unlike sign language, they are not part of any standardized or official form.

No one knows who invented sign language but, according to Deaf scholar Paddy Ladd, “… aboriginal Australians have the oldest sign languages – some 80,000 years.”

According to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sign_language, “One of the earliest written records of a sign language occurred in the fifth century BC.” This was in Plato's Cratylus where Socrates says: "If we hadn't a voice or a tongue, and wanted to express things to one another, wouldn't we try to make signs by moving our hands, head, and the rest of our body, just as dumb people do at present?”

Aristotle, Plato’s famous student, thought that the deaf could never speak and that speaking and hearing originated from the same area in the brain. This led him to assume that, if one function was impaired, the other must be too. Based on this, Aristotle believed that a deaf person could not learn. It wasn’t until 700 A.D. when the archbishop of York officially refuted Aristotle's theory.

Many centuries passed before anyone noteworthy publicly commented on what the archbishop thought. Finally, in the sixteenth century, Geronimo Cardano (the first physician to describe typhoid fever) said that deaf people could be taught without knowing how to speak. Cardano used a method of writing that involved icons. He taught this system to his deaf son and this led to the first book on teaching sign language to deaf people, in 1620.

Then in 1755 the Abbe de L’Epee founded the first free school for the deaf in Paris. Here the deaf were taught the sign language system that the Abbe developed, where each symbol suggested the desired concept. Almost 150 years later, though, a book called Observations of a Deaf-Mute by Pierre Desloges claimed that the Abbe wasn’t the inventor he had claimed to be. Deaf since the age of seven, Desloges wrote that signing, like the Abbe had taught, had been how deaf Parisians communicated way before the Abbe took credit for his “methodical signs” and founded his school. However, the Abbe’s prominence and his efforts in promoting a highly structured sign language served the deaf community greatly. It paved the way for the recognized sign languages that we have today. (See: http://www2.uic.edu/stud_orgs/cultures/daa/ASLHistory.html)

Like other languages, sign language is full of history and all kinds of interesting characters. For me, though, its sheer nature dramatically points out the power of our instinctual need to communicate. As Victor Hugo said in 1845, “What matters deafness of the ear, when the mind hears. The one true deafness, the incurable deafness, is that of the mind.” I look forward to sharing my future blogs on sign language with you. I hope these will help to deepen our understanding of the simple truth that all of us, Deaf and non-Deaf alike, are given a mind and it is the most natural thing in the world for us to want to express it.

Being Disabled Doesn’t Mean I’m Always Tolerant

The holiday season is often hard for me. If I am unable to fully participate in all the socializing due to my speech disability, or if I feel like I’m on the outside around Christmas because I was raised in the Jewish faith, I sometimes get a “bah humbug” attitude like Ebenezer Scrooge. I try to have good intentions, but during the winter holidays I haven’t always shared, let alone spread, the joy of the season. This year, however, something happened that turned things around.

It started when I received a monthly calendar listing meetings that I often attend. Almost instantly, my eyes spotted that Christmas was the only holiday listed for the month of December. When I didn’t see Hanukkah, Kwanza, or any other holiday, I didn’t just feel bad because those days were excluded. I could sense myself almost becoming indignant.

After mulling it over for a few days I decided to contact the woman who normally emails the calendar. When I asked about it I wrote, “Even though I don’t practice Judaism, this is an old wound for me that has never fully healed.” She quickly replied and said, “I’m sorry you felt slighted. Someone else sent the December calendar. I think they were in a rush and just downloaded it from the Internet. When I do it I try to add in all the holidays so everyone is informed.”

Her response made me feel better, but I was still bothered about something. My reaction. I had immediately spotted the one thing that makes me feel left out. I thought, “Maybe I’m the one who is making myself feel excluded.” It’s almost as if I was on the lookout for something that could bug me so I could pout about the holidays. I’ve always been against anyone acting like this, anyone who might be self-righteous and indignant. But, if I want everyone else to be open-minded and respectful about my heritage or disability or anything else that might be different about me, I need to act the same way.

This made me wonder if I really was as open-minded and respectful of others as I always thought. I remembered the times when I traveled and lived with people who were worlds apart from me in their culture and frame of mind. We embraced each other’s differences. In Spain I met lots of people who were interested to learn about Jewish holidays and traditions. And I ran around with them to all the special events that took place in their churches. We shared experiences that were rich, diverse, and bonded us.

Over the years I have also reached out to people, even strangers, about my speech disability. I have met many people who didn’t understand what it was like for me to be unable to speak or have a difficult time communicating. But, after connecting with them, I realized that it wasn’t because they didn’t want to. They simply never had anyone share the experience with them. They were open and more than willing to learn about what it is to live without a useable voice.

But, now, my reaction to the calendar made me feel like I was nitpicking. Why was I so judgmental when that was the last thing I wanted from anyone else?

Like Scrooge, I believe my feelings of being left out began in childhood. I grew up in a segregated city and learned early on that my culture was different from others in my city and around much of the world. Then, not many years later when I lost my ability to speak normally, my sense of disconnection simply deepened. Fortunately, as a young adult I moved to one of the most diverse and tolerant cities I know. Perhaps, though, a part of me never completely moved on.

Thinking about this helped me to see that sometimes I have unconsciously used my cultural heritage or disability to cut myself off from others. When I’ve done this I know that I have felt the last thing I want to feel -- intolerant. Seeing Christmas as the only holiday on a December calendar shouldn’t create negative feelings in me. But the fact that it did made me turn my thinking around and focus on the good things that happen at this time of year. I can share and spread joy, and I can even light up a tree in my house if I like too.

In fact, the other day someone unknowingly helped me to start feeling a little holiday joy. As I left my local grocery store, I saw a Salvation Army bell ringer standing outside in the cold. When I walked by her, she looked me in the eye and casually said with a big smile, “Merry Christmas.” I didn’t flinch or get upset in any way like I might have before. Instead, I simply smiled back and said, “Happy holidays to you too!” I have to admit; it felt pretty good.