Hearing aids can be a great asset for me, except when the “hearing” part doesn’t work anymore. Then they are of no “aid” at all. One time, my hearing aid started malfunctioning. During this particular period, work was extremely busy so I couldn’t take time off to go get the instrument repaired. As a result, I was without sound for a while, which was fine with me. After all, I am not one of those people who live and die by the hearing aid.

The office area I was situated is a patch of open space, and there were a few people working there alongside me. Questions or quick commentary are usually shouted across the room, and I’ve done my fair share of shouting. Occasionally, though, I would have my hearing aid (when it worked!) clicked off so I wouldn’t be easily distracted by the din. Colleagues usually knew what was up when that happened, and would either wave their arms or stroll over and tap me on the shoulder to get my attention.

So it was a no-brainer that people quickly got used to my non-hearing-aid-wearing self and treated it like business as usual. All saved for one.

It was a typical busy morning for my department. We were rushing to meet last minute deadlines, while simultaneously juggling several major projects. A worker from another department came around our group. Apparently she said something to me, because T, my coworker who sat directly from me, waved at me and pointed in the direction of the worker.

“Excuse me?” I politely uttered. “I didn’t catch what you said.”

“I see that!! Where’s your hearing aid?” B barked, looking up and down my head in search for the missing hearing aid that is usually perched on my ear.

“It’s broken right now.” I responded. “So if you are trying to talk to me…” I started to explain the usual methods of getting my attention.

“Why is it broken??” B interrupted me in mid-sentence. “Why don’t you get it fixed??”

“I don’t have the time right now. The office is really busy, as you can plainly see,” I retorted, gesturing towards the few workers swarming like bees around some papers on a nearby desk.

“Well, you need to get it fixed fast. How can you function without it? It’s too much hassle to not hear anything!” B exclaimed, shaking her head and crossing her arms in a disapproving manner.

I was taken back by the last two sentences. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw T slowly sink into her chair a little. A couple of coworkers stopped in their tracks in disbelief. The waves of ignorance emitting from this woman was blatantly obvious.

“Why do I need to fix the hearing aid right now?” I asked puzzlingly. “My hearing aid has no effect on how I do my work at all. You don’t see it jumping around on the keyboard typing out this latest document.”

My sarcasm was lost on B. “It’s just a matter of what makes life easier for everyone,” she declared in a knowing tone. “And what do you mean by ‘easier for everyone’? You mean, easier for you at your convenience, perhaps?” I shot back.

In a defensive tone, B stated, “I had a relative that’s blind. We had to help him out so many times. We even hired a caretaker to make sure he didn’t walk off a cliff somewhere.” She then fired off a litany of questions. “Well, how can you function without hearing anything? I can’t imagine. What if an emergency is going on and you can’t hear it? How can you hear your kids? How can you do anything for yourself?”

For the first time in a long time, I actually felt offended by the entire exchange. I’m sure many people with varying degrees of hearing loss and communication methods have had to endure lines of questioning of this nature. Over the years, I’ve learned to pick and choose my battles. There were some I shrugged off, a few I waged against passionately, and those that I chalked up to just plain denseness that no amount of education could cure.

But B’s patronizing demeanor just irked me so, with her “I-know-just-what’s-good-for-you-better-than-you-do” smirk plastered on her face. Then the chorus of a song called “I Am Not My Hair” by India.Arie ran through my mind:

I am not my hair
I am not this skin
I am not your expectations no no
I am not my hair
I am not this skin
I am a soul that lives within

In the first verse of the song, parallels can be drawn between the search for the right hair and the search for the right “equipment” to deal with deafness:

Little girl with the press and curl
Age eight I got a Jheri curl
Thirteen I got a relaxer
I was a source of so much laughter
At fifteen when it all broke off
Eighteen and went all natural
February two thousand and two
I went and did
What I had to do
Because it was time to change my life
To become the women that I am inside
Ninety-seven dreadlock all gone
I looked in the mirror
For the first time and saw that HEY….

A friend of mine fit this scenario perfectly. The “press and curl” could have been the hearing aid she received when she was little. Then in her teens, she obtained a “relaxer” in the form of a cochlear implant, which at the time were bulky and very visible. She got teased for being a robot hell-bent on world domination, i.e. the Borg. After about a decade, she decided to ditch the cochlear implant altogether. She is now comfortable in her own skin, as a deaf woman.

In the second verse of the song, India.Arie crooned:

Good hair means curls and waves
Bad hair means you look like a slave
At the turn of the century
Its time for us to redefine who we be
You can shave it off
Like a South African beauty
Or get in on lock
Like Bob Marley
You can rock it straight
Like Oprah Winfrey

In African American culture, good hair usually means black hair is chemically straightened out or pressed neat with a hot comb, with the kinks ironed out. “Good hair” is considered more acceptable by society at large. Whereas black hair in its true state and formed in hairstyles such as braids and dreadlocks, is “bad.” In that sense, the “good” deaf people would do almost anything to help assimilate themselves into the hearing culture at the expense of themselves. Those people who are either very proud of being deaf or not overly concerned about hearing are labeled abominations.

I am not a pair of earlobes walking around. When I grip the steering wheel of the car while driving, it isn’t my ears that are in the 9’ o’clock (or 12’ o’ clock sometimes) and 3’o’ clock positions. That honor belongs to my hands. It’s not my ears that my kids or my husband reach towards to give me a kiss. The body parts are the forehead and mouth, respectively. It’s not my ears that take me from point A to point B. My legs do an adequate job of that task, thank you very much. When friends want to talk, do my ears stop me from listening and sympathizing? Nope. I got a heart and a mind that is not tied into the performance of my ears. The bridge of the “I Am Not My Hair” song breaks it down succinctly:

(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Does the way I wear my hair make me a better person?
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Does the way I wear my hair make me a better friend? Oooh
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
Does the way I wear my hair determine my integrity?
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)
I am expressing my creativity..
(Whoa, whoa, whoa)

And the most important part the entire song can be found in the aforementioned second verse. This resounded with me loud and clear:

If its not what’s on your head
Its what’s underneath and say HEY….

In my case, it’s not what’s on my ear that defines me, but who I am all about as a person. I am not an invalid or a slave to my disability. And that is what B needed to understand. Just because my hearing aid wasn’t working doesn’t mean that the rest of me is automatically no good.

B was waiting for me to answer her intrusive questions. I looked at her straight in the eye, and I said:

“I am not my ears.”

This morning when my MARC commuter train arrived at Union Station, another MARC train in the adjacent track had several cars “decorated” with graffiti.  Here’s what I saw:

(Click on the photo for a larger size)

First time I’ve seen any of our commuter trains with graffiti spray paint on it.  Then again, I’ve only been taking commuter train for nearly a year.  I’ve been riding the Metro since 1980, though, and have never seen graffiti on any of its cars.  So, seeing this on several MARC cars was a rude shock.  Better (uh, worse) than coffee in the morning.

Hope we ain’t morphing into New York City.

So I’m about two weeks slow on the uptake, but I’ve been watching the reaction to a federal judge’s decision that the powers that be over at the Redskins’ home stadium must caption all “aural content.” (I’m obsessed with that phrase and am gonna abuse it as much as earthly possible. Be warned.)

Find more coverage of the decision here and here.

In a nutshell, the Redskins’ people, at one point, begrudgingly said they’d caption certain things they deem important in certain places. The plaintiffs in the case weren’t prepared to have those decisions made on their behalf and pushed for equal access, importance be damned. After what seemed like forever, the judge agreed.

The response in the blogosphere has been interesting.

There seems to be quite a big to-do over one specific part of this aural content: the song lyrics. I’m not sure why it’s so provocative.

Naysayers say the song lyrics are irrelevant, and therefore the decision is too forceful. Supporters say it’s about equality and access, not relevance, and therefore the decision is appropriate.

Wow. I’ve never seen the song “Who Let the Dogs Out” invoked so much in protest. Apparently it’s ridiculous to be informed when annoying lyrics blare out over the loudspeakers.

And the ripple effect of Marc Fisher’s rhetoric is strong. You may remember his piece on Jane Fernandes back in October of 2006. Well, October must be the deaf community’s lucky month with Fisher — he’s done it again, this time admonishing the plaintiffs for having the audacity to ask what the aforementioned lyrics were. According to him, captioning things like this is a threat:

More important, however, the court’s ruling threatens every public performance by a sports team, musical group, theatrical troupe or any other artistic endeavor.

He doesn’t say just how captioning endangers the efforts of athletes, musicians, or any other sort of entertainer, other than a fleeting suggestion that the words would be too distracting to audiences.

Moving on: Julie Feldman has already responded to Fisher on this blog, pushing the “who are you to decide?” argument, and DeafMom over at disaboom also felt compelled to invoke Fisher’s column, concluding that the captioning that the Redskins must do is not only not a nuisance, it’s an opportunity for universal access — hearing and deaf alike. She writes:

If you want to talk about the real spirit behind the Americans With Disabilities Act, we’d all share the vision to equalize the access for all people with disabilities in every public arena. If we raise a generation of people with this vision, then we wouldn’t build another building without full access for all. And there would be no more lawsuits.

Coral and Opal is pretty supportive of the plaintiffs, acknowledging that it is within the plaintiff’s right to whatever aural content is available, that it’s patronizing to decide for them what should and shouldn’t be conveyed, and adding, quite eloquently, that captioning this stuff isn’t rocket science. However, he adds:

But there are two parts to every song - music and lyrics, and both mean something. And in football stadiums, the former is much more important than the latter. The lyrics are often completely irrelevant.

For example, “The Winner Takes It All” might make more sense lyrically to a deaf person at a football game than “Welcome To The Jungle” does. But just try playing ABBA to a drunk, frenetic crowd at the two-minute warning of a close game.

Okay, so the song lyrics aren’t always irrelevant. Duly noted. Would never have known if ya hadn’t told.

And of course, this post wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t include he of the “hoity-toity” usage: Paotie calls the plaintiffs’ case “overkill:”

People like Mr. Feldman belong in the handicapped section of every sporting stadium around the world. Is life so trivial to sue over a stupid game? For Mr. Feldman and the NAD, evidently so.

So what do you think? The Redskins captioning everything that goes through their speakers: Whoo-hoo! or stupid?

By Julie Feldman

Last year, I was waiting to cross a very busy intersection in Penn Quarter. I looked to my left and there was a blind man with his telltale white cane also waiting to cross the street. Instinctively, I reached out my arm; I thought that, obviously, he needed help crossing the street. Then I stopped myself. If he was already standing on the corner, waiting with the rest of us, then he likely already knew what he was doing. And so I marveled at his agile maneuvering through the crowds as we walked across the huge street. Quite a mediocre task for this man, I was sure, but it nonetheless was a personal epiphany.

I was briefly reminded of this incident last week while passing a movie theater in downtown Silver Spring: blind people were protesting stereotypes perpetuated by Jose Santiago’s Blindness, which had found its way to the big theater. This didn’t surprise me, for there are several quite dramatic scenes and assumptions easily imaginable for any reader yearning to trade in common sense for imagination. Like how people who suddenly lose their sight will lose all their might and will to function as sane members of society. The blind protesters and I share some similar battles.

Although I don’t really spend much time thinking about it, I also have to deal with many assumptions and misperceptions. Perhaps even on a daily basis. Like the time the relay operator typed: “Oh my god. I didn’t know she was deaf.” Which, of course, preceded a not-so-polite hang-up on the grounds that they “no longer needed somebody” for the open job which they had just e-mailed me about. The other day a lady’s “common sense” led to her belief that it was okay to  make my three-year-old interpret for us. Despite all the snafus thrown my way, I continue to hold an optimistic view toward people’s inherent goodness. But sometimes it does take the law to reach that.

For many years, I had been a fan of Marc Fisher’s column in The Washington Post. Until he published “Common Sense Missing in Redskins Ruling“. Like so many others before him, he chose sensationalize a single point in the entire 22-page ruling issued by Judge Williams: the deaf community is irrationally suing just so that the Redskins will caption their music lyrics! Gee whiz, what is this world coming to?

The essential part of the case, which won’t spark the sizzle Fisher seeks, lies in the following statements from Judge Williams:

While Defendants have gone a long way to provide captioning and some access to deaf and hard of hearing fans, Defendants, in effect, do not want to be told they are required to do so by Title III.

The Court believes and declares that the ADA requires Defendants to provide deaf and hard of hearing fans equal access to the aural information broadcast over the stadium bowl public address system at FedEx Field.

But that’s not important to Fisher. He is irked by the request to simply add music and lyrics to the captioning (following that logic, none of the theme music from Cheers or other TV shows would be captioned). Who is he to decide what deaf and hard of hearing people should hear? Some of us envy Fisher for being able to hear the annoying music at FedEx Field and would gladly trade places with him. If that happened, chances are Fisher wouldn’t be working as a columnist at The Washington Post.

Very few people take the time to try and thoroughly understand the reasons behind the decision to file a suit against the Redskins. I understand how much easier it would be to go through life without thinking too much about others’ needs and lifestyles. Still, common sense does not equate some stranger suddenly grabbing your arm and telling you exactly where and how you are supposed to go about your life – just like Fisher did in this case.

—

It startles Julie Feldman to describe herself as a “thirty-something parent of two, eight-year resident of Montgomery County”. Between classes, work, and chasing two little urchins, she still finds plenty of time to dream.

Have you read Paul Schwartzman’s recent article in the Washington Post (entitled “Gallaudet’s New Aesthetic Openness”)? If not, please do take a look-it’s pretty good. Schwartzman’s focus is on Gallaudet University’s drive to develop a number of adjacent properties that it owns along Sixth Street using an architectural design concept called “deaf space.”

Something that showed up in the story:“Since its founding 144 years ago, Gallaudet’s separation has been driven by the belief that the deaf were better off immersing themselves in their own culture. Their insularity is symbolized by the eight-foot-high fencing and thick stone walls that line the university’s perimeter.”

Let me make a few things clear at the outset. I think that the concept of “deaf space” is absolutely fantastic, and if Sixth Street can be redesigned and rebuilt, I’m excited about that!  I can’t wait to see what it will look like!

That being said, I’d like to tell you three stories.

The first job I ever applied for was a stock boy position at a local Piggly-Wiggly.  They were hiring.  A “Help Wanted” sign in their window said so.  They just wouldn’t hire me.  The manager of the store said I needed to be able to hear the P.A. system when the cashiers asked for price checks.  This was 1983, years before the Americans with Disabilities Act was passed.  Not that it matters all that much …

Then there was the factory foreman I worked for right out of college (this was 1992… ADA had been passed by that time) when I was having problems finding a job in my field yet needed money.  I cut my hand while working on the line one day and waved at him so I could go put on a bandage.  He saw me, and he saw the blood—it was a moderately deep cut and the blood was already trickling down my wrist—yet he didn’t come over to take my place.  In fact he left me there to work through my pre-lunch break and half of my lunch hour before finally having someone come over and relieve me.  I got extra time off later on during my shift that day, but that’s not the point.  By that time a good quarter of my glove was saturated.  This guy had been radiating tension all week, so I asked him a couple of days later if he had some sort of problem with me.  He snapped, “It doesn’t matter what you can and can’t hear in here.  You gotta move, move, move!”  I never asked to be treated any differently from anyone else while I worked there, so to this day I can’t really tell you what he meant.

And finally there was a summer job that I held many years later while in graduate school-also well after the establishment of ADA.  I was a camp counselor.  This camp catered to deaf children (along with blind children, children with cognitive disabilities, and so forth).  While I was working there, the director of the camp, a hearing man, remarked casually to me one day, almost as an afterthought, that he was thinking about not hiring deaf staff members anymore.  They were only good for the weeks that the deaf kids were there, you see, and during the blind and CD weeks, he didn’t want to be in the position of effectively having hired two people to do one job.  It would be better if all the counselors could hear, that way nobody would have to run around interpreting.

My point: It is theorized that Gallaudet’s future students will desire “integration into the broader world.”  I think this is a reasonable theory, since  I too desired such integration. The obstacles I had to climb over, however, had nothing to do with Gallaudet’s walls.

A story that I’d like to see in the Washington Post is one that looks up that factory foreman and asks him why he did what he did.  Even after all of this time, I’d like to know.  Does that grocery store owner recall his refusal to hire me twenty-five years ago?  Would that camp director be interested in knowing how I felt after he basically told me that deaf people were only useful for working with other deaf people?  Had any of these guys even heard of Gallaudet?  If we showed them pictures of a Sixth Street now lined with strategically placed panes of reflective glass, would they give a damn?

Assuming we could break through and get honest answers out of them, we could possibly gain insight into the types of walls Gallaudet’s graduates might still have to climb over (regardless of how much more accessible the modern-day “broader world” is supposed to be compared to the less-accessible one of old) in order to both find and keep jobs.

But even that would only be the beginning.  I promise you, there are a lot of people—both hearing and deaf—who won’t appreciate that story or ever want to see another like it.  And any attempt we make to find out why will be beaten to death in a barrage of comments accusing the deaf person telling such stories of being an outright liar, of being angry and always focusing on the negative, or of playing the victim.  On top of that, maybe the factory foreman didn’t see the blood!  How can the grocery store owner be blamed when ADA didn’t even exist back then!  If we deaf people can’t get past blaming hearing people for all of our problems, we deserve to be treated with indifference!  The world isn’t fair, get used to it..!

Gallaudet’s walls are a lot of things.  They’re stone and iron.  They’re eight feet high.  They’re undeniably there, and once reduced to rubble they’ll make a good photo in the Washington Post.  They’re also an easy answer, and therefore a distraction from a much broader and deeper set of issues surrounded by walls of an entirely different kind.

As we continue to face them, I doubt that we’ll find a bulldozer to be of much use.

Am I the only one who feels that head honchos (mostly CEOs) of bankrupt or defunct companies should not be awarded “golden parachutes?” The amounts these days can go upwards to millions of dollars in these severance packages. Do they deserve these perks for mismanagement? I think not.

Let me take you back to the sandbox. As a child, if you were to hurt another child, whether deliberately or not, did your parents give you a pat on the head and stuffed you with cookies? If you said “yes,” you may have been a product of borderline sadistic DNA suppliers.

I may be using an overly simplistic analogy, but I am not a financial expert. But the point is that people generally should suffer the consequences of their actions and decisions. Why should these top dogs get megabones for gnawing away at the shareholders and/or employees’ wallets and nest eggs? Enron, anyone?

Who do you think will shoulder the brunt of the proposed $700 billion bailout (rejected today by the House of Representatives)? I’ll take the taxpayers for $500, Alex. It’s not rocket science, people.

We will pay the true cost of any proposed bailouts down the road. The question is, how soon is the end of that road? Will the economy do a “Thelma and Louise” and drive off the cliff, dragging the rest of us along for the ride but leaving these fat cats on the side to lick the cream off their paws?

Last Thursday night I had the honor of attending an Eid al-Fitr celebration hosted by Global Deaf Muslim and the Deaf Muslim Student Association (DMSA) at Gallaudet University.  Just in case you are not familiar with the Eid al-Fitr holiday, this is the three day celebration that occurs at the end of Ramadan, a month of fasting during daylight hours.

Although I spent part of my childhood in an Arab-American community where Arabic was spoken and cultural norms from the old country were observed (including the importance of education), I was not really familiar with Islam. Sure, I knew about the Eids and Ramadan and the five pillars of Islam, but for the most part it was academic, not practical, knowledge.   

Why didn’t I know more?  After all, wasn’t my family part Arab-American?

Well, contrary to what many Americans believe, the descriptive terms Arab and Muslim are not synonymous. Not all Muslims are Arab. And not all Arabs are Muslim. There are Christian Arabs and Jewish Arabs. In fact, many of the early immigrants to the USA from Lebanon and Syria (at that time under the Ottoman Empire) were Christian Arabs. And there are Muslims of almost every nationality - in fact, one of my closest friends while I was in graduate school was a Muslim of German-Irish descent who hailed from Iowa.  But I digress…

After entering Ole Jim and climbing the steps to the gathering space on the second floor, I was greeted by two lovely young women who were handing out programs for the evening. Both deaf Muslims and Gallaudet University students, one from Somalia and the other from the DC metro area.   

Ole Jim was filled with deaf Muslims (some were students and staff from Gallaudet and others happened to live nearby), hearing Muslims (some of whom were members of the media) and non-Muslims (deaf and hearing), mostly from Gallaudet University, who were curious and/or wanted to offer their support to these members of the deaf community.

Light shining through the windows of Ole Jim indicated the position of the sun – there would be no food or drink served until the sun had set and darkness set in.  The mistress of ceremonies, a member of DMSA, did a fabulous job of introducing the president of the DMSA and the president of Global Deaf Muslim, who each said a few words about their respective organizations and welcomed the crowd who had gathered for this celebration.

Soon afterwards, Muslim chaplain at Georgetown University and featured speaker of the evening Imam Yahya Hendi appeared. At first I did not even know that the imam had arrived, since he was clothed in western attire, which I was not expecting. During his introduction, his broad smile transcended the language barrier – although he knows Arabic and English, he does not know ASL. He greeted the crowd warmly, quickly putting them at ease with a joke about DC traffic that made everyone laugh, and then smoothly proceeded into opening prayer.

Having never attended Islamic services at a mosque (or anywhere else), I did not know what to expect.  So I reverted back to what I call my “hard of hearing mode”, depending on my powers of observation to do the right thing by watching and following and listening (i.e. cranking up my hearing aid volume as high as possible).  Yet unlike my experiences in other places of worship, where much depends on knowing when to stand and sit, calisthenics were not a critical part of the opening prayer before the imam’s talk. 

Imam Hendi spoke about many things, but the primary message I came aware with was the desire for peace – in many forms.

He mentioned the challenges of Ramadan, where one’s bodily desires of hunger and thirst during the days of fasting are overruled by one’s mind and faith, and the skill of self-discipline that one practices during Ramadan.

He also spoke of compassion, calling upon people to exercise compassion for one another, and he also spoke of social justice, economic equity, and community.

In addition, he raised a subject very dear to my heart, the duty of us to consider our impact on the planet, which he referred to as a “fundamentalist environmentalist” position. In this case, fundamental did not refer to a particular way of practicing religion, but the foundational importance of human dependence on the planet earth, and our duty to care for it. As someone who teaches environmental ethics, I was especially glad to see the imam express this message and to watch the crowd’s positive response to his words about this issue.

As the Imam wrapped up his remarks, the sunlight illuminating the stained glass windows of Ole Jim became dimmer and dimmer. Once he finished speaking, it was time to break the fast!

Buffet tables were laden with food and beverages, and the mood in the room quickly shifted from somber reflection to festive. 

Women and children were asked to line up first at the buffet. Yet, I hung back, hesitating to line up, mainly because I was not fasting and I knew that the Muslims in the room who had been fasting all day were hungrier than I. After several men kindly gestured for me to take my place in line, including one who appeared to be of Arab heritage, I did so, figuring that to dismiss their gracious hospitality would be disrespectful.  (Also, having grown up with a strong sense of Arab hospitality – I knew better than to decline this last offer!)

The food was a delicious mix of mostly Middle Eastern and American dishes – it brought me right back to the holiday buffet tables of my childhood, right down to the baklawa. People congregated at tables, sharing introductions and stories – it was a lovely gathering.

During dessert, people listened to Imam Hendi respond to questions that attendees had jotted down on index cards during dinner. 

One of the questions dealt with ways to stop extremism – the Imam’s response was so compelling that I have been thinking of it for days.

He started with a nonverbal response – fanning his face with his hands as to indicate what a hot question this was, matching his facial expression to his gestures. At this point, I realized that he was trying to connect directly with the deaf members of the audience – since he had waited until the interpreters had finished interpreting the question before he began to gesture. Only after he had established a (non-verbal) exchange with the audience, did he begin to speak. 

Now, I have watched hundreds of hours of hearing speakers having their English words interpreted into ASL. I can count on one hand the number of times I have seen a (non-signing) hearing speaker - one with no experience with the deaf community - communicate directly to deaf audience members.  I was impressed.       

And then he began to speak his response, the contents of which impressed me still more.

Imam Hendi began by boldly stating that extremism in any form was dangerous – whether religious extremism or political extremism, whether Jewish extremism or Christian extremism or Islamic extremism.  He spoke of the incompatibility of reconciling the notion of a God of mercy and love with the rigidity of extremism, and concluded by remarking that “forgiveness does not work well with extremism.”  It was a powerful response to a challenging question – and I just wish that I had been able to capture more of it in my notes. I did later find this link (written earlier this year), which provides more detail about his position.

As the evening came to a close, the Imam began the call to prayer, first chanting the words in Arabic, and then repeating the English translation for the interpreters, who then translated into ASL. He remarked that this was the first time he had ever done the call to prayer in English, though one would never know it by the ease in which he moved between chanting in Arabic and speaking (not chanting) the English translation.

Shortly after the call to prayer, the Muslims in the room gathered for closing prayers led by the imam, kneeling on the cloth spread on the floor in lieu of prayer rugs, and prostrating in the direction of Mecca.   Others in the room watched in respectful silence.

I’d like to end my post by thanking the many people who made the Eid al-Fitr event such a success and especially for extending such a warm welcome to all who attended, including non-Muslims.  I think all of us came away with a better understanding of the Islamic religion and of the needs of the deaf Muslim community, at Gallaudet and beyond.

Disclaimer: Although Teresa Blankmeyer Burke has many institutional and other affiliations, the contents of this blog represent Teresa’s personal views only, and are not associated with any of her professional affiliations.  

I’ve thought long and hard about this campaign. When I learned that Palin, a newbie barely versed with the echelons of our national capital powerhouse, was selected, my first thought was, “It’s a ploy.” I didn’t even think, “Gosh, possibly the first female vice president ever” nor “Wow, McCain’s clever.” If anything, it is…wait…I’m going to borrow all the letters that spells Palin and type this word: appalling.

It puts me to shame that my own country is capable of choosing this path of trash. I don’t care that this is an historical moment.  It is not about the gender thing.  Obama stated this when interviewed about Palin’s selection, “I think that has less to go with gender than it has to do with her ideological predispositions, which are closely aligned to theirs.” It is as if McCain just Googled her and said, “there’s my girl.”

McCain alone was a fair competition against Obama. Nonwithstanding McCain’s geriatric contributions to the presidential ticket, he had a fairly respectful following by both parties. However, when socially ultraconservative and anti-abortionist Palin was plucked out of the oil-rich land, became an overnight sensation, and was dubbed as the “Hot Governor” or “VPILF,” McCain suddenly looked pathetic. And his actions have made many lukewarm Obama supporters into zealous pro-Obamans and pro-Obawomans. And unfortunately, started a trend of white women voters switching to the McCain/Palin side (there’s no telling yet how broad or limited this trend may be).

How did this happen? You know, when a couple meets, you hope they bring the best out of each other, affirming the phrase, “My better half.”  That’s how it should be with presidential and vice presidential candidates–some kind of marriage that works. McCain and Palin. It’s like trying to wake up from a bad dream. McCain-Palin. It doesn’t exude that certain fuzziness as Obama, the change agent and Biden, the author of Violence Against Women Act (and entirely responsible for my current job, thanks).

But, it is still too soon to know how this would impact the voters, especially white women. Many of the white women voters were Hillary supporters. How many of them will be switching over to McCain/Palin ticket?  The ephemeral novelty of McCain’s selection of Palin will soon come to an end. The hard part is to gain the same kind of momentum for six more weeks.  Arkansas Senator Blanche Lincoln has also echoed the “Palin-will-wilt-in-the-spotlight theme.” Election 2008 is apparently the fight for white women voters. The scary thing is there’s no clue which direction they will choose.

One thing that is explicitly clear is this: Obama needs to garner support from white women voters now. According to Politico, there are over 52 million women voting in the general election.

Remember this when making a decision on who to vote that it’s not just the president that you may want now, it’s also the possible president should Obama or McCain somehow expire. Let me reiterate this: McCain’s 72. Palin as President? Good lord, I may want to hop on a plane aimed for the wolves and get as far away as possible from my country. 

Teigan Van Roosmalen, a deaf Australian swimmer, missed the start of a final race in Beijing on Tuesday at the Paralympic Games after the light on the block that was supposed to coincide with the starter gun malfunctioned. They immediately re-ran the race, so she was still able to participate.  She came in eighth.

Still, headlines immediately ran about how she was marooned on the blocks, heartbroken and crying.

Wait a sec — I thought the Paralympic Games were for those with actual physical disabilities?! Y’know, like amputees and that sort of thing? Teigan also has Usher’s syndrome, uses a cochlear implant, and competes with retinitis pigmentosa as her classification for participation in the games, but still, does that mean she can’t move her body in certain ways? Not at all.

Well, color me uninformed. A quick search reveals that the Paralympic games actually classifies their athletes six ways: 1) those with Cerebral Palsy, 2) amputees, 3) visual impairment, 4) spinal cord injuries, 5) intellectual disabilities, and 6) anybody who doesn’t fit into the first five categories (les autres).

Whoa. Number 6 is a whopper of a category. But I’m clueless, so I won’t go there.

And number 5 sounds familiar: to participate in the Special Olympics, To be eligible to participate in the Special Olympics, “athletes must be at least 8 years old and identified …as having one of the following conditions: intellectual disability; a cognitive delay as determined by standardized measures such as intelligence quotient or other generally accepted measures; or a closely related development disability, i.e., functional limitations in both general learning and adaptive skills.”

Sounds like, in theory, someone could compete in both games? Guess that’s not a bad thing — Teigan herself has apparently competed in both the Deaflympics and the Paralympic Games. Good for her; it’s an undoubtedly hard-earned honor.

But I’m confused here. The US Olympic Committee has a history of supporting the US Olympic and Paralympic teams …but not the US Deaflympic team, even though the International Olympic Committee does recognize the Deaflympics.

And, after all, one of the main principles of the Deaflympics is the idea of equality through sports. From the Deaflympics website:

“Unlike the athletes in all other IOC sanctioned games, including the Olympics, the Paralympics and the Special Olympics, the Deaflympians cannot be guided by starter’s guns, bullhorn commands or referee whistles. Nor can the majority of the athletes experience the crucial sense of inclusion in other general games because they cannot just strike up a conversation or in other ways communicate instantly or in a practical manner with their fellow hearing athletes.”

Hello? Looks like Teigan’s missed start just illustrates the inequality of even the Paralympics, albeit inadvertently, beautifully.

Oh, and postscript: “Unlike other games for athletes with disabilities, which are all directed by non-disabled officials, the Summer and Winter Deaflympics are run by deaf people for deaf athletes.”

Snap.

(Photo from here.)

A few days ago, YouTube added captioning/subtitle support to its videos. Users can upload their own SubViewer (.sub) or SubRip (.srt) files to videos. Viewers can turn on captioning (if enabled) by clicking on the bottom-right button on the player. Right now, however, YouTube doesn’t seem to offer a feature to search for captioned videos only. 

Got a favorite YouTube video you’ve been itching to watch with captions? According to TechCrunch, the captioning company SubPLY will caption 5000 YouTube videos submitted by users like you. FREE. So, hurry! Click here to read the details and submit a YouTube video you’d like to see captioned. Be sure to add the YouTube video link to a comment here at DeafDC so we all can watch it, too!

(Unfortunately I doubt they can caption ASL videos, just spoken English or Spanish videos.)