#as a person who is actively learning about Deaf culture and audism

[boatemlag]

my linguistics class is doing a unit on ASL (american sign language) and the responses have been! harrowing! to say the least!

first of all, the prompt for the discussion posts is "is deafness a disability yes/no" which is WILD for a linguistics class. this has nothing to do with ASL as a language. most of the people in this class have never met nor spoken to a Deaf person. and also hearing people should have nothing to say about that fucking conversation, let alone hearing people who know nothing about the community or culture.

second. the responses have been harrowing and ive since logged off brightspace to cool off but i am fighting for my fucking life in here

audism and ableism and racism warning below the cut i have to get this out of my system holyyyy shit

[ID: Eight screenshots of posts on Brightspace, an online learning program, with the names of students censored with a black bar. They all have red lines underlines pieces of text with lines leading to red comments from OP.

Image 1 says: Lesson 6, (name censored) posted Aug 1, 2023 5:01pm to Group 1. Post begins, "I agree with the medical view that deaf people have a sensory loss that needs to be corrected in order for them to function as contributing members of society. Deaf is not just a physical disability; it involves issues related to communication and more. Technological advancements, such as cochlear implants and hearing aids, have indeed been beneficial for people with hearing loss. However, these technologies don't completely resolve their congenital impairment. Some individuals with mild hearing loss may manage well with hearing aids, but there is no perfect solution that can fully fix their condition. They may still face more challenges and inconveniences compared to the general population, even while using hearing aids."

"needs to be corrected" is underlined with a line that leads to the comment, "Eugenics for Babies". "contributing members of society" is underlined with a line that reads to the comment, "i can't stand this line of thinking at all." "issues related to communication and more" is underlined with a line reading to the comment, "yeah those issues are called hearing society". "congenital impairment" is underlined leading to comment that says, "complete misunderstanding and ignorance of what can cause deafness lol".

Image 2: A continuation of the previous post. "with deaf people based on this perspective. The government provides financial support for hearing aids and cochlear implants, and offers education on sign language to assist them. Various social services, including support from deaf people organizations, are also available. However, sometimes such treatment can unintentionally result in discrimination against those with deaf people. Prejudices against them may make it difficult for them to find employment. The term "disability" should never be used to discriminate or exclude anyone. Unfortunately, many individuals with hearing impairments still face social exclusion because of their label as "disabled.""

"such treatment" is underlined with several lines leading to "education"; "social services"; and "deaf people organizations". "because of their label as "disabled"" is underlined with a comment that says, "blaming disabled people for ableism ok". There is a general comment in the right side margin that says, "not to mention plenty of Deaf ppl dont consider themselves disabled"

Image 3: Continuation of the same post. "We must make efforts to enable individuals with deaf people to actively participate as contributing members of society. Rather than creating divisions between them and the general public through education and services, we should aim for mutual recognition and respect. It is crucial to..."

"actively participate as contributing member of society" is underlined with a comment in all caps that says, "I hate this I hate abled people". "This" has multiple Ss. "divisions between them and the general public through education" is underlined with a comment that says, "education is causing "divisions" got it /s". /S (forward slash S) is used to indicate sarcasm.

Image 4: Post from (name censored) from yesterday at 5:50pm. Post says, "I agree with your statement. There are issues beyond the inability to hear that deaf people face regularly. According to the American Sign Language..."

"There are issues beyond the inability to hear that deaf people face regularly." is underlined with a line that leads to the comment, "issues is a strange way to say "ableism from hearing people" but ok"

Image 5: A post from (name censored) posted 4 hours ago. Post says, "Hello, I think the medical point of view has its truth. I believe that deaf people also very much want to have the same perception ability as normal people, so they hope that they can get treatment. They will also have a lot of inconvenience in life. So being able to use medical means to help them solve their problems is a good choice. But I don't think letting them..."

"normal people" is underlined leading to a comment that says "huh?" in all caps with multiple questions marks. "so they hope" is underlined with a comment in all caps that says, "you believed based on what?"

Image 6: Except from the same post as previous image, that says, "...skills through sign language is divisive. There are many deaf-mute people who do not have the ability to pay to treat themselves, and some deaf-mute people cannot..."

Both instances of "deaf-mute" are underlined with a general comment in the left margin, in all caps, that says, "come on".

Image 7: A different post by (name censored) posted 1 hour ago. Three paragraphs that say, "

Hi,

I agree with your post and there is definitely more than one would initially think going on with America's disabled population. Labeling those with hearing problems as disabled can be harsh, but it truly is a disabling issue and causes their lives to be vastly different and more complex. Although it is not always visually apparent when you view an individual, their course of life is very different depending on the severity of their hearing loss. When it comes to the youth, as (name censored) stated, more needs to be implemented in terms of schooling. I do not think that we need to send every child to a deaf school, and if they can, going to a regular school (and instead receiving extra assistance) may be more beneficial to not feed into the segregation based on ability alone. 

The future of society truly is up to us, so informing others on disabilities and ensuring that we are properly treating those that struggle with them, is the most feasible way to positively impact our world. Overall, you had a really thoughtful and insightful post into the lives of deaf individuals, and I agree that we must make changes to improve this where we can."

"Labeling those with hearing problems as disabled can be harsh," is underlined with a comment that says, "why do you think the word disabled is harsh. quickly". "not feed into the segregation based on ability alone." is underlined with a comment that says, "Deaf schools arent segregating students, it is opt-in".

In the last paragraph, "The future of society truly is up to us," is underlined with a comment that says, "no the fuck it is not up to you. silence abled person".

Image 8: A post by (name censored) posted 9 hours ago that says, "I agree with you that deaf people are medically handicapped people. What we need to do is respect each other's differences and develop medical tools to help them. Medical science has now developed cochlear implants and hearing aids to help the deaf peopel [sic] to intergrate [sic] into society as much as possible. But this doesn't mean that they enjoy the same rights just like normal people. In many cases, deaf people are still under discrimination, which makes it much more difficult for them to obtain the rights that normal people should have. What we need to do is reduce prejudice against deaf people and try to provide more education and job opportunities for them."

"mentally handicapped" is underlined with a comment in all caps that says, "say sike right fucking now." "normal people" is underlined with a comment in all caps that says "help me please". Please has multiple As. At the bottom of the image is a general comment that says, "This is the guy who said the only way for nonblack people to respect AAVE and end racism is for nonblack people to live in Section 8 housing and "experience poverty for one month"". End image description.]

i do not have the energy to elaborate on any of these points its just so much. its soooo much. help me. please. get me out of here

[southeastasianists]

“SEE is good for learning English because it includes all the grammatical aspects of English such as past tense. SgSL is broken English just like Singlish![1]”

“No! SEE is not a language but a system/code. SgSL is a true language!”

I vividly recall the summer of 2016. I attended the Singapore National Deaf Youth Camp that occurred from May 20 to 22, 2016 as part of my 7-week internship at the Singapore Association for the Deaf (SADeaf). Through observations and my interactions with the camp participants, I realized that a hybrid of different languages and manual communication systems were being used by different individuals in Singapore to communicate with one another. These included Singapore Sign Language (SgSL), American Sign Language (ASL), Pidgin Signed English (PSE), Signing Exact English II (SEE-II) and spoken English. It was all very fascinating to observe.

One of the sessions scheduled in the camp programme which aroused my curiosity was the SgSL versus SEE-II debate. Although I have heard that there are still debates between the exact manual representations of the grammar of the spoken language which is akin to SEE-II, and the national sign language happening in various parts of the world, I had never personally encountered anything like it before in any of the Deaf camps and workshops I had attended while living abroad. At the camp, participants were divided into the group they supported and they were given opportunities to debate their position. The quote at the start of this essay introduced the fundamental arguments of each side.

As I reflected further, I began to see that this debate was connected to my life, and to fundamental issues of being d/Deaf in Singapore. Using my own lived experiences as a way to think about these issues, I examine what this history means, and argue that being Deaf is a reflection of the need to identify with Deaf culture and with sign language.

Between deaf and Deaf

Deaf Studies as a field of study is concerned with the experiences of the Deaf. It grew out of the Deaf Rights Movement historically and focuses on the experiences of Deaf people, Deaf history and Deaf culture (Myers & Fernandes, 2010). Within the Deaf community, there is a distinction made between being “deaf” and being “Deaf”. Being deaf refers to the medical condition of not being able to hear or having hearing loss, while being “Deaf” refers to one’s identity and affinity with the Deaf community, usage of sign language, and Deaf culture. Members of the Deaf community have different degrees of hearing loss ranging from mild to profound levels.

In this vein, I have a confession to make. I never used to identify as “Deaf” or even “deaf”. Since young, I have unknowingly categorically rejected the identity of being d/Deaf.

The reason for this is simple. I had no idea that the word “Deaf” even existed. It was beyond my realm of experience. As for “deaf”, I thought it strange to label myself that, when I could hear conversations relatively well depending on the situation. I also have intelligible speech. To 8-year-old me, “deaf” meant that I could not hear completely nor speak at all. It just didn’t make sense for me to identify as “deaf”.

Instead, I referred to myself as “hearing impaired”. At other times, I would say that I was “partially deaf” or “hard-of-hearing”. I used the term “hearing impaired” during my childhood and teenage years also because it was a term that was imposed on me by my audiologist, my parents, and my teachers at the Canossian School for the Hearing Impaired and St Anthony’s Canossian Primary School. I knew no other more appropriate term to label myself. It also appeared to be the most fitting term to describe myself to other people at that time because people generally understood it as someone with a certain degree of hearing loss with some speech ability. To me and the people around me, the term “deaf” was more degrading than “hearing impaired”. In other words, there is a stigma with being “deaf”.

Thus, I never identified as part of the Deaf community in Singapore during my growing up years. My first contact with any form of signing occurred when my mum brought me to Wesley Methodist Church in 2000 as she had heard that they had a Ministry of the Hearing Impaired (MHI). When I walked into the church service one Sunday morning, I saw someone on stage moving her hands about in sync with the song. A number of people with hearing aids just like me sat in rows on the right end of the auditorium. Some were moving their hands about mimicking the person on stage. When the pastor delivered his sermon, a different person came on stage and moved his hands about to convey the sermon visually to the audience.

My mum also took me to MHI’s SEE-II classes to pick up sign language. As a result, I believed that SEE-II was real sign language and that sign language was merely about signing each word in an English sentence. I learned how to sign the alphabet and picked up some basic signs. I also attended MHI events. Still, I had very little interest in signing and mixing with other people that wore hearing aids like me. After 6 months of attending the church, I lost interest altogether and left.

My exposure to SEE-II under the church ministry was a result of developments in Deaf education in Singapore since the 1950s. It all started when Mr Peng Tsu Ying, who moved from Shanghai to Singapore, established a small deaf school in his home in the 1950s and introduced Shanghainese Sign Language (SSL) as the language of instruction. In 1963, the Red Cross Society’s oral deaf school, which taught deaf children to lip read and orally articulate words merged with Mr Peng’s school to become the Singapore School for the Deaf (SSD). The school had an oral section and a Chinese Sign Section. As such, earlier generations of the Deaf in Singapore were educated in SSL.

In the mid-1970s, Lim Chin Heng, former student at the SSD returned to Singapore after completing his undergraduate education at Gallaudet University in Washington D.C. He introduced the Total Communication (TC) philosophy, ASL and SEE-II to SSD. The shift towards SEE-II as the main mode in educating the deaf was also cemented with the visit of Frances Parson in 1976. Parsons was the global ambassador of TC from Gallaudet College. She trained educators of the deaf in Singapore to use TC, a combined method where sign and speech were used simultaneously (Signal, 2005). Lim subsequently went back to Gallaudet to pursue a Master in Education of the Hearing Impaired in the late 1970s.

Consequently, Mr Peng decided to move away from SSL and implemented the use of the structured SEE-II that followed the rules and conventions of the English language, since English was Singapore’s main official written language. He arrived at this decision after observing that the signing of the deaf students were unstructured (Signal, 2005).

Yet, even while SEE-II was adopted as the official language of instruction in SSD, and younger generations of Deaf and hard-of-hearing children grew up with it, the use of SEE-II has divided the community with some believing it to be effective for teaching literacy in English while others do not see it as a proper language. Some of the Deaf in Singapore have gravitated towards the use of SgSL, which they claim as the language of the Singapore Deaf Community.

I used SEE-II only for a few months in my teens. The whole time I had an inherent bias that sign languages were inferior to spoken languages and that the ability to speak set me apart from other deaf people. To me, it was more important to learn to speak and integrate into the hearing-centric world that we live in. Subsequently, I expended much time and energy attempting to be “hearing” by trying to fit into academic and social contexts with hearing people in order to appear “normal”. As a result, such situations often became a source of stress and anxiety for me. However, I thought I simply had to try to listen harder or I needed a more powerful hearing aid.

For many years the erroneous beliefs I held about myself, other deaf people and sign languages were so deeply embedded in my psyche that I lived in complete oblivion to Deaf culture and community. In short, I was an audist because of such views and attitudes ingrained in me. Audism, a term coined by Dr Tom Humphries in 1977, refers to the discrimination of deaf people based on their inability to speak and hear (Berke, 2018). It is the belief that the ability to hear and speak makes one superior to those that do not possess these abilities.

The road to becoming Deaf

When I graduated from the Singapore education system in 2002, I decided that I wanted to become a teacher of the Deaf. I chose to go to Australia to start a one-year foundation studies program to prepare for entry to university.

In 2004, when I commenced my undergraduate degree at Griffith University, I contacted the Deaf Student Support Program (DSSP) to enquire about accessibility services. As I did not know Australian Sign Language (Auslan), I was provided with a laptop notetaker to sit next to me during lectures and tutorials so I could look at the screen and follow what the professor was saying in class. As I expressed a desire to be able to access Auslan interpreters later on, DSSP arranged for me to meet with a native Deaf signer for an hour weekly to learn Auslan.

My progress in learning Auslan was excruciatingly slow because apart from that one hour of practice every week, I was mostly interacting with hearing people outside of university classes and I had no Deaf friends nor access to Deaf events. At that point, it didn’t occur to me to actively seek them out. I only wanted to learn some sign language as I believed it was good for me to have some sign support via an interpreter. I was still not convinced that sign languages were legitimate languages.

After I picked up some basic Auslan, I was provided with interpreters in my lectures and tutorials.  However, my brain kept trying to decipher signs in English grammatical word order while in fact Auslan was “grammatically incorrect” according to the rules of the English grammar.  I made progress through interacting with Deaf people and hearing signers on campus. However, I still associated Auslan with “broken English”.

In 2007, the final year of my undergraduate program and taking specialized courses in Deaf education, I developed an understanding of Deaf culture and started to explore what it meant to be Deaf, as well as a deeper understanding of the grammatical structure of Auslan.

I remember one class particularly well. It was a class on Sign Bilingual education where a lecturer showed us examples of how homonyms (words which are spelt the same and have more than one meaning) and homographs (words that have the same spelling that have more than one pronunciation and meaning) were taught using Auslan-English bilingual strategies to Deaf and hearing children in the classroom:

English translation: “The boy kicked the ball.”

Auslan translation (video): BALL BOY KICK

English translation: “The lady is going to the ball.”

Auslan translation:  LADY GO DANCE PARTY

English translation: “The children are having a ball.”

Auslan translation: CHILDREN FUN HAVE

The word BALL in each of the 3 sentences was signed differently. It was signed in a way that made sense visually and was conceptually accurate. Selected readings from Johnston and Schembri’s (2007) Australian Sign Language: An introduction to sign language linguistics also gave me a better understanding of how Auslan functions as a language. I realized that Auslan was a bona fide language with its own distinct grammar and structure.  It was not “broken English” nor was it an “incomplete language” as I had previously thought, and could enhance reading comprehension.

It dawned on me that SEE-II was conceptually inaccurate as the same sign was often used to represent a word even when that same word had different meanings in different contexts. Therefore, SEE-II did not make any sense at all visually. It is not real sign language but rather just an exact representation of the English language. The usage of SEE-II in reading can hinder comprehension of the text and result in miscommunication.

In addition, after watching a set of Deaf History videotapes, I understood more deeply what Deaf Culture was. Being deaf is not a disability and deaf people including myself are not “disabled”.

I realised that the term ���hearing impaired” indicates a defect and implies that something is wrong with the person with hearing loss. The word ‘deaf’ is a pathological term. On the other hand, ‘Deaf’ represents a distinct cultural minority with its own norms.

In other words, I was becoming Deaf. With my acquisition of Auslan and interaction with the Deaf community, I could become part of the community. I had a desire to discover more about the Australian Deaf Community. I started attending the Auslan Club organized by Deaf Services Queensland and volunteered at the Australian Deaf Games in January 2008. At the Deaf Games, I ended up chatting with hearing interpreters or hearing volunteers wanting an opportunity to practice their Auslan. I did get the opportunity to have brief conversations with a few Deaf people but felt somewhat out of place as they seemed to mingle with their white Australian friends or people they already knew.

I felt inferior to local Deaf signers as I couldn’t sign or understand Auslan fluently. I still adopted the practices of “hearing” culture in some ways and used my voice at times because I had grown up oral. When I eventually shared with a Deaf friend that it was challenging to fit in with the Deaf community, her response was “You are not deaf enough”.

So even as I had close friends who are Deaf and my Auslan improved, I had difficulty assimilating into the Australian Deaf community. I felt that as an Asian foreigner and oral deaf who learnt Auslan as a second language as an adult, I struggled to find my place and sense of belonging in Australian Deaf culture.

I wondered if I had grown up being Deaf in Singapore, rather than rejecting my Deaf identity, would I have been able to develop a stronger sense of self and be more resilient? Would I not have tried so hard to fit in with hearing people all the time?

From Deaf to Intersectional Identities

When I first stepped into the Gallaudet University campus to start my Masters program, I felt a mixture of trepidation and exhilaration. On one hand, I wondered if I would be able to fit in as a late signer especially since Gallaudet was the epitome of Deaf culture and I was, in the eyes of some, “not Deaf enough”. On the other hand, I was excited to be for the first time living on-campus in a signing environment

Much to my surprise, I soon discovered that my initial fears were unfounded. It was at Gallaudet that I finally found acceptance as well as the freedom to be myself.

I was enthralled by the diversity at Gallaudet. There were Deaf, Deafblind and hearing American as well as international students from all over the world, each with their own sign language – Korean, Japanese, Chinese, Omani and many others. I had expected discussions at Gallaudet to center on the lived experiences of d/Deaf and Deaf identity, but it turned out that there were so many other aspects to consider and reflect on.

At Gallaudet, I was introduced to the term “intersectionality”, coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw.  Intersectionality refers to how the many social categories such as race, gender, class, religion, sexuality, disability, and so on, that constitute the individual or group, are interconnected and overlap (Crenshaw, 2016). In other words, each person or group consist of multiple overlapping identities which are intricately interwoven. From an intersectional lens, we can identify how dynamics of oppression and power such as racism, sexism, classism, audism, etc. are created; how power structures marginalize individuals and groups in society.

By adopting an intersectional lens, I began to understand why I never quite found my place in the Australian Deaf Community, which is predominantly white. This new-found understanding compelled me to critically examine other identities that I held. I identify as not only Deaf and/or Hard-of-Hearing but as a woman, a Southeast Asian, a Christian, Chinese-Singaporean, cisgender, English-speaking, oral, and from a hearing family. To discuss and define myself as only a Deaf person is to deny my personhood. My eyes were opened to the rich diversity prevalent within individuals and Deaf communities around the world.

As part of the Chinese race, I am a member of the majority, and I am all too aware of having “Chinese privilege” in Singapore. I had experienced some degree of discrimination in Singapore on account of my perceived hearing disability. However, my experience would differ from those of non-Chinese d/Deaf individuals in multi-racial Singapore.

It is how powerful groups in society construct normalcy and disability that disables me and portrays me as “disabled”. I grew up learning that signing was ‘not normal’ and that the ‘normal’ was to integrate with hearing people and to be able to speak and hear. However, at Gallaudet, I felt “normal” to be able to communicate in sign language. To not know sign language was “not normal”. Accessibility such as voice interpreters for events on the Gallaudet campus was provided for the “signing impaired”, not the “hearing impaired”. ��When we had a hearing presenter that didn’t know ASL, interpreters were provided for the audience so that they could have access to the presentation in ASL.

had thought I had learned everything there was to learn about being Deaf when I was in Australia. The discussions at Gallaudet helped me to realize that it was only the tip of the ice-berg. In fact, every Deaf person in the world would have a different lived experience even though we all share one thing in common – a Deaf identity.

I also came to learn through reading about Deaf and hard-of-hearing identity labels and through interaction with other Deaf and hard-of-hearing people at Gallaudet, that the term “hard-of-hearing” can be fluid.  A friend said to me that she was proud to identify as hard-of-hearing because it meant that she is able to fit in both the Deaf and the hearing cultures with her ability to sign as well as speak. She could simply adjust her language modality to suit the social context.

I had identified as Deaf when I learned Auslan.  At the time, I thought that the label “hard-of-hearing” was neither here nor there; neither part of the signing Deaf Community nor part of the hearing community. I realized from my friend’s statement that I could identify as both Deaf and hard-of-hearing, and have done so.

Deafhood

To me, “Deafhood”, a term coined by Paddy Ladd in 1993, refers to having a deep insight into one’s personal journey toward becoming Deaf. In this journey, one experiences identity shifting and learns how sign language and Deaf culture are intricately linked. It is about understanding my own lived experience as a Deaf person as well as those of other Deaf individuals. It is about understanding the dynamics of oppression and how marginalization of Deaf people as a linguistic minority occurs due to the operations of power structures in society that do not give them a voice. It is about how I have come to terms with my past and my healing from painful encounters as I journey towards becoming Deaf. It is also about understanding that every Deaf individual is on his or her own unique journey and is at different points in his or her life. When the Deaf individual embraces his or her Deaf identity and sign language, he or she can truly blossom as an individual and express himself/herself fully.

Rather than see deafness or hearing loss as a problem to be cured, we need to understand that sign language has many benefits and embrace the concept of “Deaf Gain”. Deaf Gain focuses on how Deaf people and sign languages bring many benefits to Deaf people and also the world at large (Bauman & Murray, 2014). It posits that the world is actually a better place because of Deaf people and sign languages than it would be without them. Full access to sign language from birth enables deaf babies without other disabilities to acquire typical language developmental milestones like their hearing peers (Petitto, n.d.). Such accessibility enables the Deaf to achieve their full potential and pursue careers in all kinds of fields. Sign language empowers Deaf people and promotes equality.

Reflections and hopes for the future

My journey leading to the embracing of my Deaf identity, acquiring different sign languages and studying linguistics has led me to conclude that exposure to SgSL for Deaf children in Singapore in the early years is crucial for their language and Deaf identity development, and their resilience.

However, the SgSL versus SEE-II debate at the Deaf youth camp in 2016 which I introduced at the start of this essay points to the polarization between the different groups on the issue. While the Deaf in Australia and the USA are proud of Auslan and ASL respectively, the presence of various camps has meant that language issues in Singapore are more sensitive and delicate. There are d/Deaf individuals who are not convinced about the legitimacy of SgSL and there are those who support SgSL. There also appears to be confusion about what SgSL is. Most of us went through oralism when we were in school, and we do not have the experience of earlier generations of signers to build on. Consequently, there is still a lack of Deaf empowerment and awareness.

I realize it is also important to reflect on how changes in the Deaf community in the USA have impacted Deaf and hard-of-hearing individuals in Singapore and the current state of Deaf education. One such event is the Deaf President Now protests of 1988 at Gallaudet University which resulted in the appointment of the university’s first Deaf president (Gallaudet University, n.d.). The protests led to greater activism and recognition of Deaf Culture and ASL, and the phasing out of SEE-II as the mode of instruction. Lim Chin Heng, who first introduced SEE-II to Singapore, was educated at Gallaudet in the 1970s before the DPN protests and when SEE-II was used widely. In contrast, I experienced Gallaudet in the post-DPN era and Deaf Education has undergone major changes since, notably with the implementation of ASL-bilingual methods. In the light of current debates between SgSL and SEE-II in Singapore, I wonder how such lived experiences of Gallaudet will also influence the directions activism over language issues for Deaf people in Singapore will take.

At the same time, I am also highly conscious of how much of my views I can project when interacting with Deaf and hard-of-hearing individuals in Singapore. I have been away from home for the last 15 years or so, and often wonder if it is my place to comment or get involved in the SEE-II and the SgSL debate. Would I be influencing the local context with western centric views? However, there are misconceptions about language that need to be addressed. I do very much feel a sense of responsibility to give voice to issues pertaining to Deaf people and sign language, and want to make a contribution to my country where I can. In balancing my hope to share and the concerns of the various groups in the community, it feels as if I am walking on a tightrope at times.

As I navigate this path in the future, I do hope that Deaf and hard-of-hearing Singaporeans will have the opportunity to learn about the grammatical structures of SgSL and come to a deeper understanding of our own language and how it functions. I also hope that more Deaf and hard-of-hearing Singaporeans will have opportunities to develop their Deaf identity and a sense of empowerment. Last but not least, I hope to see future generations of Deaf children become strong advocates for the Deaf community, and for a Singapore that allows for full and equal participation of all its citizens.

Phoebe Tay is a Gallaudet alumni who graduated in 2017 with a MA in International Development and a MA in Linguistics. Prior to that, she worked as an educator of the deaf in Australia. She is currently working for the Deaf Bible Society as a Linguistic Research Specialist under their Institute of Sign Language Engagement and Training (ISLET). She hopes to be able to contribute to the Deaf community in Singapore in the future.

Notes

[1]  **NOTE: The following dialogue has been translated directly from SgSL/SEE-II to English. SgSL structure differs from English structure. The contents are based on the author’s notes and memory of the event in 2016.

References

Bauman, D., & Murray, J. J. (2014, Nov 13). An introduction to deaf gain: Shifting our perceptions of deaf people from hearing loss to deaf gain. Retrieved from https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/deaf-gain/201411/introduction-deaf-gain

Berke, J. (2018, June 18). The meaning and practice of audism: An audist attitude can be compared to other forms of discrimination. Retrieved from https://www.verywellhealth.com/deaf-culture-audism-1046267

Crenshaw, K. (2016). The urgency of intersectionality. Retrieved from https://www.ted.com/talks/kimberle_crenshaw_the_urgency_of_intersectionality?language=en

Gallaudet University. (n.d.) Deaf president now. Retrieved from https://www.gallaudet.edu/about/history-and-traditions/deaf-president-now

Johnston, T., & Schembri, A. (2007). Australian sign language: An introduction to sign language linguistics. Cambridge: University Press.

Ladd, P. (2003). Understanding deaf culture: In search of deafhood. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters.

Myers, S. S., & Fernandes, J. K. (2010). Deaf studies: A critique of the predominant U.S  theoretical direction. The Journal of Deaf Studies and Deaf Education, 15(1), 30-49.

Petitto, L-A. (n.d.) How do babies acquire language? Retrieved from http://petitto.net/our-studies/mythbusters/how-do-babies-acquire-language/

Signal. (2005). Editorial. Singapore: The Singapore Association for the Deaf.

[johnleeclark-blog]

Distantism

It is with a wry shake of my head on your arm that I find myself introducing a fancy new word. As a poet, I dislike jargon. But sometimes we do need a new word, and it can change the way we see everything.

That’s what happened to the sighted Deaf community with “audism.” Although it was first coined in 1975, by the Deaf scholar Tom L. Humphries, it didn’t receive a full discussion until after the hearing-sighted linguist Harlan Lane used it in his 1993 book “The Mask of Benevolence: Disabling the Deaf Community.” Sighted Deaf people had always known that hearing society discriminated against them, but the new word suddenly made it much easier to identify and analyze.

As is typical of our community, several DeafBlind folks proposed variations on the Deaf theme. But none of them caught on. More recently, however, “vidism” has gained some traction. It’s a helpful concept for two reasons. First, it places a finger on some of the ways the sighted Deaf community has excluded us. Our brother Bryen Yunashko has done important work in this direction. The second reason is that the hearing blind community did not yet have a term to describe sighted privilege and bias, other than the generic “ableism.”

Yet addressing both audism and vidism still leaves too much behind glass. I knew there was something bigger there, and I longed for something that would shatter that pane of mystification. Something that would allow me to wrap my hands around its throat and say, “I’ve found you out, you old serpent!”

The sense of that malaise which affects all of us, DeafBlind and non-DeafBlind alike, had been growing stronger and stronger ever since the Protactile movement started in 2007. It has taught us so much about who we are. About what is natural and true. About how to live. About language. What we once put up with we can no longer tolerate.

What, I wondered, is the opposite of tactile? Researching our community’s history, I see that we have always been tactile. But hearing and sighted people have always attempted to keep our tactilehoods in check. We’ve always been denied access to some of the most basic human rights. What should we call this force of suppression?

A Standing Apart

I propose to call it distantism. The English word “distance” comes from “distantia,” Latin for “a standing apart.” A point could be made that distantism refers to the privileging of the distance senses of hearing and vision. The ways in which many cultures have evolved on the almost exclusive basis of these two senses have indeed been harmful to us. That insistence on sight or hearing to function in society means only one thing for us: death.

But that would be putting it too simplistically. Each form of social bigotry has its distinctive personality and its unique set of intertwining evils. So I would like to dwell on the concept of distantia, or a standing apart, which lies at the heart of distantism. We already have a Protactile word that describes people who pull away from touch, who refuse to connect. It is an attitude and a behavior. Many hearing and sighted societies prize it highly, and their members seek to maintain physical distance, however thin those margins may be. Their rulers and heroes stand alone-- the more remote they are, the more highly esteemed they are. Even when the less privileged are squeezed closer together due to poverty, exploitation, or as punishment, distantism manifests itself in the long lines, tight cells or dubicles, and above all, their being removed out of sight and hearing. For all the hype around its ability to connect the world, technology has often served to isolate people in every other way.

Are sighted and hearing people wrong to use their distance senses and let it affect how they live? No. If they wish to be all eyeballs and flapping ears, they are welcome to such an existence. There’s nothing wrong with being organized or efficient. But we have problems when they impose their distantism on us.

Let’s read a classic distantist statement:

“The loss of both sight and hearing constitutes one of the severest disabilities known to human beings. Essentially, it deprives an individual of the two primary senses through which we acquire awareness of and information about the world around us, and it drastically limits effective communication and freedom of movement, which are necessary for full and active participation in society.”

It used to be impossible to argue with a statement like that, but with a critique of distantism we can begin to break it down. It’s an old trick, blaming injustice on its targets so that the privileged can pretend there’s nothing wrong. We are at the bottom of society because, what? Because we are DeafBlind. Which cannot be helped. Therefore, we belong at the bottom of society. It’s an amazingly easy trick to pull. They take things out of our reach and then they say we have limited awareness. Whatever they do is our fault.

I wish I could share everything this critique has unearthed for me, but it would take years to write! For now, I would like to touch on a few things that I think tell us a great deal about how distantism works.

Intervenors

Despite the many barriers we encounter in society, we can gain much awareness about the world around us. But when we go exploring or when we just exist, sighted and hearing people rush in to intervene. Can they help us? Please don’t touch. They will be happy to describe it to us. They will guide us. No, they will get it for us. It’s much easier that way. Hello! My name is Katie and I’m your Intervenor!

One of the things I have pondered is why, very early in the history of education of DeafBlind children, they started assigning each one of us a special teacher-companion. This wasn’t always the case. There were some classes where we shared a common teacher and we had each other. We can see in the record how distantism set in, and how hearing and sighted people wanted things to look right. It didn’t look good when we went around “groping in the dark.” It didn’t look good for us to cluster together and have too much fun. Education meant we had to sit behind a desk.

The solution was to assign each one of us a sighted companion. Such teachers made it possible for us to sit apart and for the classroom teacher to stand in front of us. They made us hearing and sighted by proxy. Even though we would be in constant contact with our special teachers, the pair of us made for a tidy unit that could and did stand apart. It also made for a most inspiring sight, the self-sacrificing teacher laboring as our only link to the world. It isn’t a miracle unless there is a miracle worker.

Today those special companions are called Intervenors or Interveners. The title is altogether too apt. Intervenors who eavesdrop on this article will protest, “But I let Jimmy touch anything he wants to!” No. It’s not just a matter of letting or encouraging. There’s a whole cultural element involved. There are distantist modes of touch and there are protactile modes of touch. A distantist cannot truly teach or empower our children to live and learn as tactile people. Yet the field of education of DeafBlind children has never included us as teachers. Why is that?

The Road Not Taken

September 30, 1841, might have been the beginning of a wonderful alternative history. On that day, our brother Oliver Caswell, then eleven years old, entered the Perkins Institution, where our famous sister Laura Bridgman had already been a student for four years. He met many people on that day, but he was immediately drawn to her, and the two latched together. Samuel Gridley Howe, the school’s hearing-sighted director, was the most insufferable distantist imaginable—a man who, for example, decided that blind people must read raised lines resembling print—but on this occasion he allowed Bridgman to serve as his auxiliary for Caswell’s first lesson. Thereafter Bridgman eagerly continued to teach Caswell, devoting many hours each week to the enterprise. Fortune also hugged them when Howe and his new wife departed on a long honeymoon in Europe. It was during his absence that a portrait was painted of Bridgman teaching Caswell to read and write.

In Deaf education, Deaf teachers were involved from Day One. Many graduates were promptly hired as teachers, and Deaf teachers would go on to found schools all over the world. Blind graduates of early schools for the blind were also hired as teachers and continue to play a leading role in that field. But in the education of DeafBlind children, we have not seen the same pattern. There are thousands of Intervenors working today. There are hundreds of teachers proper who work with our children in Deaf, blind, and public schools. There are hundreds of early-intervention specialists. None of these professionals are themselves DeafBlind. What happened to cause so complete a shutout of tactile teachers and leaders?

When Howe returned to his post at Perkins, he found that Bridgman had mingled too much with teachers and fellow students. She had learned too much and had many questions. He considered his neat experiment ruined. He immediately made some radical changes, and, later, for a period of five years Bridgman was in the company of one single teacher. Any suggestions of a future in a widening social circle was abandoned. Perkins would set an example for the world of assigning each one of us a special teacher-companion. They were to help us, keep us safe, protect us from bad influences, and, we can now see, make sure we aspire to the distantist ideal.

It is a common outcome of some forms of oppression that their targets must fit in a narrow space of cooperation and gratitude. The idea with distantism is that we can never uphold it perfectly, but we should make a continuous failed attempt to do so. This continuous failed attempt reassures society that we agree with their values. We are to be good, but never good enough. The field, which Howe firmly sent on its current course, excludes us because it needs to maintain a certain level of failure. If it was its goal to succeed completely in educating us, it would embrace our tactilehood and value us as teachers and leaders. Instead, distantism is the first condition, and for that to make sense, the field needs its work to be difficult and expensive, not easy and effective.

Under Different Names

We adults also receive intervention that serves a similar function. In the United States we have Support Services Providers and in the United Kingdom they are called Communicator Guides. In Canada, they don’t bother to pretend it’s something different. Their Intervenors serve both children and adults.

I am not saying that we don’t need sighted assistants. After all, we do live in a distantist society, and we should avail ourselves of distance-information readers. However, the way our SSP services are performed can be smothering. That’s why a key concern of the Protactile movement is autonomy. When I teach Protactile, I like to make it easier to remember what it means and how to spell it by breaking it down into three parts:

AUTO: They do a lot of things automatically, taking over, making decisions for us, making assumptions.

NO: We need to say “No!” to such automatic actions.

MY: We need to say “My!”—we will do things our way and make our own decisions.

Sometimes I get a new SSP and she asks for my shopping list. She is ready to take charge and have me merely tag along, holding on to the cart. She’s confused when I do not give her a list and I take charge, directing us toward the places where we will find what I want. She is now more like a detector, or a device that I take out of my back pocket to consult. Only she is far more intelligent than any machine could be and there’s a wonderful rapport—that is, if she is able to unlearn her distantism. It is my responsibility to learn and know the world around me; it is part of her job to help me update that knowledge as we go along. But it is not her job to retain any of this knowledge herself.

Having a SSP is still useful, but it makes such an enormous difference how it’s done and when. Sadly, most SSP, CG, and Intervenor programs leave the professionals’ distantism intact. As a result, they often take charge, make assumptions, push our canes away from making contact, pull us back from people, put themselves in the middle of interactions instead of support our direct communication with others, and guide us in such a way as to maintain a margin between us and the world around us. No wonder we have limited awareness!

Their distantism finds its ugliest though unconscious expression at many of our gatherings, conferences, and retreats. You know the routine: We are each assigned a SSP. Instead of helping us connect with each other, they end up being the ones with whom we talk the most. Their presence creates a network of distantism that separates us from each other or makes it harder for us to find each other. They also can destroy moments when we cluster and go tactile. A friend shared with me an experience he had with a yoga activity at a retreat. The yoga instructor was a sister, and she wanted the group to do it in Protactile style. So there was a happy clustering, and people helped each other and passed on information. But it didn’t look right, and one of the SSPs standing back intervened by going to her “client” to correct his position. “That’s not what the position is, it is this.” Soon the other SSPs slipped into the group. In a few moments there was a nice straight row, everyone paired off and standing apart.

The White Cane

Even when we shake off those pesky intervenors, distantism follows us still in the form of the white cane. Now, I love my cane, but it was also one of the first things that told me there is something wrong. As I pointed out in my essay on protactile design, “My Dream House,” it is not our home if we need a cane. What this means for our present discussion is that the instant we feel the need for a cane, we are in distantist territory. One of our long-term goals should be to claim more and more territory where we do not need a cane at all, because the design of these environments is tactilely accessible and appropriate.

For going out in the public, I think we still need to ask the question: Why were we given the white cane? The three words Orientation and Mobility specialists repeat like a mantra are “independence,” “freedom,” and “safety.” Our brother Robert Sirvage has observed that in Amerikcan Sign Language all three are said the same way. Our crossed wrists turn away from each other and move apart, as if breaking out of handcuffs. That’s freedom, and also independence and safety. I now realize that this is the ultimate distantist fantasy.

The white cane makes it possible for us to go many places over a wide variety of terrain all the while avoiding contact with our environment except through our cane. It is a magic wand that conjures up a bubble for us to float in. Sighted Orientation and Mobility instructors have always taught us one-on-one, the better to dance circles around us and make sure the bubble grows stronger. They like to scout out a location first, find a path through it, and then bring us there, saying, “Go straight until you feel a curb, then take a 45-degree turn and walk until you encounter a railing.” A code of aimed turns and sailing until we hit something then another turn.

The field has yet to accept any DeafBlind instructors, adamant in the belief that we cannot teach each other to travel. They are right—we cannot possibly teach each other how to travel in their sterile, desolate, meaningless mode where the goal is for us to go down the middle, in a straight line. They want us to disturb the world as little as possible. Ironically, sighted people make that easy to accomplish by parting like the Red Sea before our rod. Joke: How am I supposed to find anyone if everyone runs away from me?

The bubbles they put us in are sometimes so thick they are more like tanks. I cannot count the times I would approach a brother and sister and get the feeling I’d just interrupted their process of steaming forward. Often they’d be holding something in their other hand, and I must wait for them to disassemble their tank-bubble before we can interact. That’s why I have worked on making my bubble as thin as possible, ready to pop the instant there’s an opportunity for connection. For me, this has meant finding the right cane: a slender beauty made of fiberglass. It’s so light that I can hold it like a pencil if I wanted to, with just two fingers. It’s no tank. It’s a mere whisker, sometimes feeling ahead, sometimes tucked in favor of other modes of experience.

One of these other modes is traveling and exploring together. I agree with Sirvage’s suggestion that we need community-based approaches. This would go against the whole thrust of the rehabilitation system, which is a monument to distantism. It’s built on one-on- one instruction, which effectively isolates us and tells us that we are broken and need to be fixed.

Final Irony

Before I bring up one more thing about distantism, let’s read that quote again:

“The loss of both sight and hearing constitutes one of the severest disabilities known to human beings. Essentially, it deprives an individual of the two primary senses through which we acquire awareness of and information about the world around us, and it drastically limits effective communication and freedom of movement, which are necessary for full and active participation in society.”

The final irony is that a DeafBlind man, the late Robert J. Smithdas, wrote these words. Many hearing and sighted people have expressed the same sentiments, but distantism is so pervasive that we all have internalized it. Helen Keller spoke of us as being imprisoned in the “double dungeon of darkness and silence” and that we are “the loneliest people on Earth.” She was being fanciful, but what is true is that the marginalization we experience is too often literal, involving physical margins.

That we find distantism even in ourselves is good news, for it proves that it is a serious, society-wide sickness. When our sisters, the magnificent Jelica Nuccio and aj granda, launched the Protactile movement, we knew it was a historic event. Now that we know more about distantism and how poisonous it is, their achievement seems all the more astonishing.

Think about it. Billions of people on this planet, and all of them agreeing that hearing and vision are required for leading full, normal lives. Billions of people of one mind that being DeafBlind must be an unendurable fate. Billions of dollars poured into the hope of medical cures. Distantism, that old serpent, held the whole world in its remote-control spell.

And then our sisters from Seattle had the audacity to say that there’s a DeafBlind way. To say that hearing and vision are not necessary. To say that the only cure we need is each other. Can you feel the world shaking as it starts to, finally, come together?