By Elijah Mckenzie
I had a voice, but as a child I never had the need to use it. I could only sign. In fact, I knew how to sign before I could even speak.
Because I had grown up with Deaf parents, American Sign Language became my native language. It wasn’t until I started kindergarten that I finally learned to speak English.
I distinctly remember learning how to sign my name in ASL. My mother would point to me and slowly fingerspell the letters e-l-i-j-a-h, then point to me again, confirming that this was my name.
As a kid, I always thought that my ability to communicate in ASL was no different than my ability to speak English. I had connected the two languages so closely in my mind that I didn’t see any distinction between speaking and signing. However, this state of mind hit a brick wall when I entered the seventh grade.
I sat at my desk in my homeroom class. Our teacher had given us the first assignment of the day, which usually came in the form of a prompt like, “What do you think the world would be like without electricity?”
After I had scribbled down the best possible answer on my sheet of paper, I realized that I forgot to write the date at the top of the page. Of course, every child knows that they can’t turn in their paper without a name and date.
I raised my hand and asked the teacher, “What’s the number today?”
She looked at me, confused. “What do you mean?”
“The number – what is it today?” I repeated.
After squinting at me for a long while, her expression began to clear up. “You mean the date? Are you trying to ask what today’s date is?”
My classmates all laughed as I sunk down into my chair, feeling embarrassed and defeated.
To me, there was no difference in asking, “What’s the date today?” and “What’s the number today?” I couldn’t understand why my teacher was so confused by such a simple question. I figured that if this was the way my family communicated, then the same rules of communication should apply everywhere.
And that’s when it hit me. I’m bilingual. Not only was I a child of two separate languages, but also of two separate and distinct cultures.
Transliterated from ASL, most Deaf people would ask this question as, “Today number, what is?”
To English speakers, this sentence might seem incomplete. This is because ASL follows a completely different set of grammatical and structural rules than English. ASL can be categorized in three parts: signing, body language and facial expressions.
Details do not matter when signing. Brevity takes precedence over preciseness, just as long as the message gets across. With the assistance of facial expressions and body language, a deeper dimension of meaning can be created.
For instance, if a Deaf person is talking about how their dog died, that person should wear a sad expression to match the context of their message. Otherwise, the message can become distorted and could potentially carry an unintentional tone of sarcasm or disingenuousness.
Tim Owens, the coordinator of ASL interpreting studies at the University of Louisville, shared with me some of his thoughts and offered his perspective as a Deaf person.
“The biggest misconception is that being Deaf simply means not being able to hear,” Owens said. “Believe me, hearing loss is the least of our concerns.”
Deaf people experience life through an entirely unique point of view. They adhere to an established set of social norms and follow special guidelines of communication. As a result, Deaf people consider themselves part of a Deaf culture.
This is the reason why I spell Deaf with a capital D.
However, the Deaf community is not necessarily an exclusive group. It often includes hearing people with the ability to sign, such as interpreters.
Sitting at his office desk on the third floor of Robbins Hall, Owens told me of a recent episode in which he was hospitalized for kidney stones and had no ASL interpreter available to help him.
“I had to stay overnight in the emergency room while I was still in pain, so it was very frustrating,” Owens said. “The experience helped to remind me that many Deaf people all over Kentucky go through these types of situations and that interpreters are a vital part of the Deaf community.”
Perhaps the greatest and most obvious hurdle that Deaf people have to overcome is the communication barrier. However, this obstacle is made more difficult by cultural misunderstandings between Deaf and hearing people.
“Take the police for instance,” Owens said. “If they were to arrest a Deaf man, what do they do with his hands? Place it behind his back, of course. But how would he communicate? If he tried to use sign language while still handcuffed, the officers might assume that he is resisting arrest. And from there it could only get worse.”
According to Owens, the ASL interpreter studies program at U of L intends to accomplish two things with its students.
First, the program aims to educate students about Deaf culture, highlighting the subtle differences in the way they communicate and convey ideas. It helps to construct a positive view of Deafness, not as a disability but as a way of life.
Second, the program is designed to produce highly skilled ASL interpreters, fully aware of the needs and expectations of the Deaf community. Upon graduating from the program, students often work towards obtaining their National Interpreter Certification and go on to become professional interpreters.
After my interview with Owens, I walked down the stairs of Robbins Hall and incidentally ran into an ASL lab assistant named Ben Rogers. He approached me and claimed that I looked familiar, that he had seen me somewhere before.
I didn’t recognize him at all, but we talked for a while, signing to one another in the ASL lab room. I soon realized that he was an old friend of my mother – that they both had attended the Kentucky School for the Deaf.
“You’re Cheri’s little boy!” Rogers exclaimed. “I remember back when you were still in diapers!”
“What a small world,” I responded with a laugh.
Although I had interacted with Deaf people all my life, my brief conversation with Rogers made me realize just how tightly-knit the Deaf community really was. The community sticks together so well because Deaf people all work toward the common goal of educating the public.
Cynthia Wetterer, a teacher of Deaf students at Noe Middle School, often works as a training mentor to U of L students enrolled in the ASL interpreter studies program.
Throughout her career as a public school teacher, Wetterer said that she’s noticed an overall improvement in the way hearing people approach the Deaf community. However, any type of improvement always relies on public awareness.
“A lack of understanding may cause people to feel uncomfortable about working with the Deaf,” Wetterer said. “It’s really all a matter of informing the public and letting them know that Deaf people are not any less intelligent or capable as their hearing counterparts.”
As a child of two cultures, I strive to use my knowledge and experience to clarify misconceptions wherever I find them. I try to help others realize that Deaf culture is real and that anyone with a passion for signing can become part of that culture.
