Elitism in Our World

A trend is becoming alarmingly evident as one scans the Deaf blogosphere and listservs such as GallyNet-L. This trend is the full-scale assault on deaf people who happen to have deaf parents. This is quite disturbing.

To understand why this bashing is occurring, it is necessary to examine the roots of the situation. To really delve into this would require doctorate-style research, but some of the factors are evident. We are a very fragmented community, and a complex one. We come from all sorts of educational backgrounds and communication methodologies - which we did not choose. Our parents and/or families made that choice for us. There are residential schools, mainstreamed programs, cued speech users, oral people, manually coded English (SEE and its ilk) users, and ASL users. Whatever method was chosen, it was chosen because our parents/families believed that was the best thing to do for us or they didn’t feel they had a choice. Hence, we grew up being told our placement and communication mode was the best. Many of us have internalized that to a degree. Granted, not all of us have or we changed our minds later after a great deal of reflection.

Another factor that comes into play here is the fact that we are an oppressed people. Every single one of us has experienced inaccessibility. Society has disabled and disempowered us to some degree. For example, many Internet video clips are not captioned, most notably the ones from large corporations, such as CNN. Not even the best speechreader can fully access these clips. This affects us on many levels. Many of us have grown up being told to be hearing is better, and we should strive to improve our speech and hearing skills. We have been pointed toward a peer and told, “See, Janie speaks well. She’ll fit better into the hearing world.” Or we’ve been in Janie’s position and praised, watching as our peers are subtly denigrated and diminished. In short, we have been held to a hearing standard most, if not all of our lives, and this has shaped our perception of ourselves to an extent. For further information, Genie Gertz’s doctoral dissertation talks about dysconscious audism (and a post below with that title explores dysconscious audism in some depth).

Cultural studies show that when a minority group is disenfranchised, it turns on itself, with its members bitterly fighting over who is better. This has led to the attitude of superiority some of us have. When one applies the points contained in the previous paragraph, one sees the following: Some oral people look down on deaf who sign, many don’t. Some hard of hearing people look down on deaf people, many don’t. Some mainstreamed deaf look down on residential school deaf, many don’t. Some deaf of deaf look down on deaf of hearing, many don’t. Some cuers look down on signing deaf, many don’t. Some CSUN/NTID grads look down on Gally grads, many don’t. Some Gally grads look down on non-Gally grads, many don’t. I have seen all of these occur, and I have also seen that to apply a generalization decrying any of these groups would be wrong, because most members of each group that I have met do not hold this superior attitude.

Because the bashing taking place is targeting one group, let’s look at this group. In the interest of full disclosure, I have no deaf people in my family at all. In America, because of oralism and the fact that 90% of us have hearing families, Deaf of Deaf have been the ones responsible for transmitting cultural information, stories, and ASL. This has given them a very important role, one which saved ASL, Deaf culture, and historical information. In my humble opinion, some of them have developed swelled heads as a result, but before some of you jump down my throat, many of them do not have swelled heads. Another factor is that they have been mocked for their sign language, been told they’re failures because they don’t speak well, and essentially been told that how their parents are raising them is wrong because it doesn’t meet the hearing standard. This type of treatment has the effect of enraging some people to the point where they reject others not like themselves because they assume that everyone else is the same. There are a few more reasons, but I won’t get into them at this point. This does not excuse acting like someone else is not worthy, however understandable it is.

As I wrote in my “Deaf Privilege?” post, this type of attitude and looking down on other deaf people is not exclusive to those born of deaf parents. For example, I’ve experienced rudeness because I graduated from Gallaudet. A few bloggers seem to take every opportunity they can to bash Gallaudet, which ticks me off. Gally is what you make of it, and I would not trade my years at Gally for anything. I could make a sweeping generalization saying RIT graduates hate Gallaudet and look down on people who graduated from Gallaudet because I’m seeing more and more of that. But I won’t. Most of the RIT grads I met do not have this attitude and it would be unfair to them to make such a blanket statement. All groups have members who are guilty of acting superior and devaluing others, and they all have members who are open and accepting of others, not just Deaf of Deaf.

We need to stop saying and doing such things. We need to stop accusing others of elitism, and we need to stop practicing elitism ourselves. We all need to take a hard, long look inside ourselves and reflect on whether or not we believe that others are inferior to us because of (fill in the blank). We need to reflect on whether or not we are truly open to others, regardless of their communication mode and background. Then we need to put this into action - be open to others and not put up barriers because they do not share the same background or communication mode we do - every single one of us. Let’s cease this deaf of deaf bashing and practice what we preach, all of us.

Deaf Privilege?

I went to a divorce party tonight to celebrate the end of a marriage. It was a novel experience for me, and it got me to thinking. Y’see, I was the only guest who had grown up with signs. Every one of the other nine women present did not know sign until adulthood. One of them still does not sign. This was not an issue for me at all, because that kind of thing does not hinder my acceptance and respect of others. But from a sociological and cultural anthropology perspective, it was fascinating to observe this close-knit group of women who had basically grown up together for the most part. They were all friendly, pleasant, and well-educated.

Signing skills ranged from a couple who looked like they had spent time at a school for the deaf, to a few who looked like they used some form of manually coded English when they were younger, to some who obviously did not learn signing until later, to one who knows very few signs and does not sign in general, and this woman will be called Gigi. However, all of the other women, except for Gigi, appeared to prefer (or maybe made more of an effort?) to communicate using signs. Some signed more in ASL the whole time. Some simcommed with Gigi but used more ASL signing with the others. Some signed but reverted to voice only for a few words or sentences here and there. Gigi’s deaf sister signed when others were part of the conversation, but she voiced with Gigi. This whole dynamic among the women was fascinating to observe.

There is a quote that I absolutely love but cannot remember who it originated with. “Deaf people are people of the eye.” This was proven to be so true tonight. Everyone moved their heads to follow the conversation, paused and waited for people to turn their heads towards the signer, and waved to each other for attention. Gigi’s being deaf was clear after some observation. For example, she waved to others to get their attention. She was also very alert. She moved her head and her eyes were constantly scanning the room or intently focused on the conversation. She is living proof of that quote, even though she can’t sign her way out of a paper bag. Apparently she wants to learn to sign, but she doesn’t have a compelling enough reason - yet. When I was sitting at that table, watching the various conversations and how they interacted, a thought struck me. This is Deafhood in action. This group of women are all on a journey to self-actualization and pride in their being deaf. They are all at different points in their journey, some further along than others, but we are all in this together. A coin doesn’t have enough sides for all of us, so allow me to take liberties with the saying - we are all different sides of the same die. It was just so cool to watch and be part of this group.

I chatted with one very pleasant, friendly woman. The subject of deafhood came up, and I asked her what she thought, how she felt, and her perspective. This opened the floodgates. She feels like the only people she can really socialize with are oral people. They accept each other and they feel comfortable with each other, probably because of their similar background. She named one deaf family that lives just blocks away from her, saying, “They don’t socialize with us at all.” She named school employees who are friendly and pleasant, but when other “strong-culturally-deaf” people are around, they ignore her. She said, “I don’t feel like I can go on campus without going with someone that works there, because I won’t be accepted otherwise.” I said, “And now me. Now we’ve met. Feel free to stop by and say hi.” Later, when she was leaving, we murmured the usual pleasantries, then she added, “I’ll visit you at school, and you won’t reject me, right?” with a smile... but she was dead serious at the same time. During the conversation, she repeatedly said she felt rejected and like the school people are so clannish, she can’t break in. I can imagine this happening to an extent, but the people she named are people who say they socialize with everyone or who I’ve seen making efforts to be open to everyone. This woman signs pretty well, so that isn’t an issue. My first reaction was, “Whoa - got chip on your shoulder?” But I listened and reflected on what she had to say. I’m wondering if she is actually overly sensitive and jumping to conclusions or if she is actually experiencing all of this. Perhaps the truth is a bit of both?

This made me think long and hard. People shouldn’t have to socialize with people we don’t feel a connection with, but we should be open and friendly to everyone, regardless, unless there is a personal issue between two individuals. We as a community need to address this. (Note to self: bring up with friends - we talk the talk, but do we walk the walk? This is a question each of us needs to individually reflect on, myself included.)

One thing that was subtly present which saddened me was how some people put up a wall when I was introduced as having graduated from a school for the deaf, graduated from Gally, and now work at the local deaf school. Once they saw I was friendly and open, the wall lowered, and with some people, disappeared. There is a lot of talk on GallyNet and on the East Coast about white privilege. White privilege is essentially about how much easier white people’s lives are because they are white. They take it for granted that they will not be discriminated against, they will not be made to feel different, and so on. I’ve wondered about Deaf privilege in the past, and tonight brought it to the forefront.

Before I go on, it’s necessary to explain my experiences. I grew up with a hearing family who signed with me almost from the beginning but encouraged auditory training, speaking, and lipreading. I always did and always will prefer signs, though. I went to several local day programs and was mainstreamed until junior high. I was given the power to decide where I wanted to go to school after sixth grade, and I decided I wanted to go to the school for the deaf. My signing was very much manually coded English, and I’d barely been exposed to ASL before. Within a few years, probably because I was in the top class with deaf of deaf, my signing improved a lot, to the point where I started socializing with them. But all through high school, I was open to anyone and everyone. The “elite” deaf people were the ones who sent mixed messages through most of high school. By the time I was a senior, my signing had improved to the point where I was selected, along with a very few other high school students, to be taped for the then-in-development Signing Naturally curriculum developed by Ken Mikos, Cheri Smith, and Ella Lentz. At Gallaudet, again, I was open to everyone, but the “elite” deaf were a mixed bag. Most were quite friendly, while others seemed to have a mental checklist to determine who was acceptable to them and who wasn’t. One time in the cafeteria, I met someone for the first time and we hit it off. An hour later, it came up that my family wasn’t deaf, and she promptly lost interest in the conversation. We never chatted again. Now I’m well respected by many people, people are often surprised I’m not from a deaf family, and I enjoy a lot of perks. But I believe this is because of who I am as a person and I’m reaping the rewards of hard work as a professional and as a community member. My friends now vary from people who are the stereotypical definition of “elite” to people who only recently joined the Deaf-World, with people at many points in between. This is important to me, because my life is made richer by knowing these diverse people, and all of them have something to offer and to teach me. All of these years, I have remained true to myself and tried to be the best person I can be in general. I still believe things like background, signing skills, schooling, and membership in organizations should not decide how valid or worthy a person is. In short, Deafhood is what I’ve believed for a long time - both the journey part and the idea that it is for everyone.

Yes, Susie, there is such a thing as the “deaf elite,” and with it, “deaf privilege.” I personally abhor it, but now I’m benefiting from it. I graduated from one of the best schools, graduated from Gally, I work for a school that is becoming known as the Deaf Mecca, I sign well, and I know “the right people.” I’m not boasting. I have seen how people react to me after they hear my curriculum vitae. It was clear at two recent nationwide events, by their smiles, slight inclinations of the head, and in the increase of warmth. Nice, yes. Fair, no. When people complain about it, I understand completely, because I’ve been on both ends of the stick. I’m sure that’s one reason I’m so overjoyed with Deafhood. It would remove all this stratification and allow people to be valued for who they are and what they have to contribute. That’s just one of the many reasons I love working where I work. Most of my colleagues value people as individuals, not compared against a mental checklist that includes items like where you went to school and how well you sign.

I want Deafhood to bring us all together. I thoroughly enjoyed the group of women I met tonight, and I would very much like to get to know some of them better. Who else have I not yet met because of how fragmented our community is?

The Family Stone

Just watched The Family Stone and all the bonus features. What a treat to have everything captioned! (Note to self: write the company, thanking them.) This may be the first silver screen production since Mr. Holland’s Opus that had a deaf character with more than a cameo appearance yet the character’s state of being deaf was simply incidental to the plotline. This is important because for many people who know someone who is deaf, it is merely part of their life rather than the sole focus. Hence, this is a more accurate portrayal of reality and we need more shows like this.

The movie was wonderfully put together and wonderfully acted. It was a quirky story, yet it had elements that all of us could relate to. They did a fabulous job of weaving Thad’s deaf state into the story. Diane Keaton was perfect as the hearing mother who signs better than anyone in the family, even if that’s not saying much, and who tries to keep the deaf kid involved to an extent, all the while dropping signs and not signing many things she says out loud. Craig T. Nelson barely signed, which is so typical of most fathers of deaf children, and the few signs he did he clearly had difficulty with. I have to confess I could hardly imagine the man signing before I saw him sign. The siblings all did a good job of being busy hearing siblings that have some sensitivity to their deaf brother by signing some things, not signing others, and signing snatches of what they were saying. It was also refreshing not to have an army of interpreters voicing what Thad was saying, though that was mostly resolved by Thad voicing for himself. Here’s a bold idea - open caption what the deaf person says so that voicing is not present. What’s wrong with that? Why is Hollywood afraid of something without voice? But I digress. As a whole, the movie was a very accurate portrayal of how a hearing family with one deaf member operates and relates to one other.

While I am so impressed with the movie and the time and care the writer/director, producer, and cast members took to ensure Ty Giordano’s inclusion and to be true to the deaf experience in the movie, I found myself bitterly disappointed by something. I hesitate to pen what I’m thinking, because I want nothing more than to support this movie. I’m not into crabbing. But the feeling is there. So here goes... I’m disappointed that yet again the deafie can speak for him/herself. Have we not been able to move away from this yet? Ty clearly did his job of making sure the film’s portrayal was true to life. A lot of thought and effort went into this. Kudos to Ty! But again, a role goes to a deaf person that speaks for himself and the role requires voicing. What message does this send? It reinforces the idea that in order to succeed in Hollywood, one must have/use some hearing and be able to speak for yourself. When will the day come that a plum role goes to a deaf person who does not voice and no voicing of the signs seen onscreen occurs? Until we see this on a regular basis, not all parts of the deaf spectrum are properly reflected onscreen.

The bonus features were a source of pleasure this time, and not only because they were captioned for a change. They were well-done and genuinely enjoyable. Again, Ty’s being deaf was simply incidental and the actors talked about it in the same way they talked about everything else. It colored their experience and needed to be remarked upon, but it was not a big deal at the same time. It was not a surprise to learn that Craig T. Nelson had the most difficulty learning to sign, but my heart went out to him when he talked about nearly poking his eye out more than once. An interpeter is clearly visible during one cast interview, but I did wonder why Ty’s face was one of the faces shown most often during that group interview. *shrug* Anyway, love, love, loved the bonus features.

While I was enthralled by the bonus features, I found myself squirming with a definite sense of disquiet. Ty chose to speak and sign for himself during interviews, and this did not sit well with me. I have mixed feelings about his simcoming during interviews. His voice was choppier than it would’ve been without signing, in my opinion, and his sign quality degraded. But it was unquestionably positive to see him signing, yes. I have to concede that Ty was in a tough position. No matter how he chose to communicate for himself, someone would be upset. If he voiced only, a certain segment of the community would’ve been all over that choice. If he signed only, he ran the risk of having his words mangled in translation and of upsetting other people. His choice to simcom resulted in awkward voicing and signing and in upsetting yet another portion of the community. I do not envy him the position he was in, and I have no desire to criticize him nor to pull him down. Heck, I’m proud of him for representing part of us accurately and for showing what it really is like to be deaf in a hearing family for those of us who depend on signs yet use our voices.

While this was a wonderful film in many ways, I was saddened. I just wish that we could see more plum roles go to those who choose not to use their voices, rather than have Hollywood be an option solely for those who speak.

So how was NAD, you ask?

“So how was NAD?”

I’ve been asked this many, many times since my return from Palm Desert. Short answer? It was amazing. It was good. A longer answer isn’t easy, because there were so many things that happened, so many impressions and feelings, and so many snippets that I could share. This was my first time at NAD, so everything was new and fascinating to me.

Let the snippets begin! *grin*

A friend commented to me how many memories were flooding back because of all the old faces she was seeing, and that led me to say, “Am I dying? My life is flashing before my eyes!” At her startled gasp, I chuckled and said, “Hey, if I am, this is a great way to go!” Seriously, I had absolutely NO idea I knew this many people!! I was pleased to see so many young faces, because NAD needs young people like us to survive. Apparently this is the first time in decades this many young ’uns have flocked to a NAD convo. This could be a real turn-around for NAD, especially since I’m hearing that quite a few people are planning on attendin’ N’Awlins in 2008. It was wonderful talking to people I hadn’t seen in years. Some of the conversations were hit-and-run, while others were more in depth and thoughtful. What struck me was how many people were genuinely interested in how I was doing. It was wonderful talking to people, seeing old faces, spending time with dear ones who don’t live locally, and making new friends.


The ASL Tribute Friday night was very interesting. For others’ opinions and in depth descriptions, go here and here. The quality of the skits/stories varied dramatically and the event went on for hours and hours. I personally think the organizers would’ve been smart to cull out the higher-quality wheat from the chaff and kept it brief. Even if the show were only an hour long, people would walk away lauding our beautiful language. In fact, I came up with an ASL poem to describe the evening - all using the “B” handshape. ALL-NIGHT, SPEAK, SPEAK, TURN, TURN, ALMOST-FALL-ASLEEP, TRY-TO-WAKE UP, ALMOST-FALL-ASLEEP. (I confess. This is when a video blog would come in handy.) Vikee Waltrip’s parody of a hearing teacher teaching her elementary-age students how to sign the Pledge of Allegiance was beyond hilarious and dead-on accurate. Bernard Bragg said something beautiful about the recent fissures in our community. He pointed out that we are all “J-U-S-T DEAF,” which is exactly what deafhood is all about, and what I’ve believed for years.. Terrylene Sacchetti treated us to a story... and then some. She was wearing a low-cut top and appeared to have gained twenty pounds in the chest. She was practically popping out the entire time, and I could not focus on what she was saying, because all I wanted to do was rush on stage and tuck a hanky around her bosom to spare her potential embarrassment. The men around me were all spellbound, grinning grins of pure pleasure, and deliriously happy. Up next was Chuck Baird. All he did was wander around the stage in a bathrobe, go into a few rants, sit down, stand up, and walk around again. His nipple was revealed in his odd bumbling across the stage, and believe me, it was nothing to ooh and aah about. I muttered, “Gee. The straight guys get to drool over Terrylene and we women get what?? THIS?” *sigh* It was interesting overall, but I confess to being glad it was over after more than three hours.

The guy who scheduled the FSSA workshop and the first Deafhood workshop for the same time slot should be drawn and quartered. Double scheduling is inevitable at any conference, but these were the hottest topics of the decade. Thankfully, for those of us who chose to go to the first Deafhood workshop, information on the FSSA workshop was posted on the NAD blog. The organizers also grossly underestimated how many people would be interested in the Deafhood workshops. The room was packed to the gills every time, with people sitting on tables in the back of the room, sitting on the floor by the stage, in the aisles, and standing five deep outside the doors. For one picture, go here and scroll down - but it doesn't capture just how crowded it was.


It was fun living in a house on the PGA West golf course for the duration. I was only sorry I didn’t get a chance to spend much time there and grow to appreciate it. It’s a lovely place, Spanish in style. I had a whole suite to myself, and my bathroom was almost as big as my bedroom at home! We had a private pool with a view of the green between the 14th and 15th hole on the Nicklaus course. Thank you, T and S, for letting me stay with you guys!

The Deafhood workshops were amazing. The first one encapsulated the concept and previewed what the next three would cover. The second one, presented by Ella Mae Lentz, focused on the language aspect of Deafhood. A brief history lesson occurred first, focusing on European colonization and how they subjugated native peoples. The colonists (called missioners in the book) systematically destroyed governing systems, traditions, ways of life, and banned native languages. They installed white governments and forced the children to go to white schools and be educated in the colonists’ language, to learn the values and traditions of the colonists, and so forth. Eventually the colonists installed native people that were best able to speak their language and function much like the colonists in positions of power. These native people became the force which kept the natives subjugated. Paddy Ladd’s book posits that this is what has happened to deaf people. Oralists colonized us too by destroying our education systems, outlawing our language, and forcing us to use their language. Our values and traditions were discarded in favor of hearing mores. As a result, we have been divided and we act against each other. We even argue about our identity amongst ourselves. We disagree about the best way to educate our youth. Many of us genuinely believe that those who can speak are lucky, those who have some hearing are lucky, and that English is superior to ASL. Many of us gladly participate in our own oppression. This is known as colonialism of the mind, because our hearts, minds, and souls have been colonized to the point where many of us believe English is superior, we need to worry about fitting in with hearing people, and to speak and hear is better than not to speak and hear. This is a powerful and mind-blowing concept, and I was glad of the reminder. The workshop made me think of how sick and tired I am of the phrase “can’t hear.” I’ve been railing against that phrase for years because “can’t hear” implies that hearing is an ability or a skill. Granted, in some contexts, it is. But we deaf people cannot practice and practice to develop a greater ability to hear. Our being deaf is simply a state of being. I’ve been advocating changing from “can’t hear” to “don’t hear” and changing “can hear” to simply “hear,” because language and perception are inextricably entwined. Genie Gertz focused on identity related to deafhood and David Eberwein focused on the politics of deafhood. Somewhere in there, the phrase “deficit thinking” was discussed. It is basically the idea that deaf people lack something; that we are flawed. This is an example of how thoroughly we have been colonized. For example, (the following is simply my own musings) we often say “hearing loss,” which is predicated upon the assumption that hearing is special and valuable. Is it? Well, depends on your paradigm, really. There are so many unpleasant sounds that hearing people are subjected to on a daily basis. I know I hear a lot that I really would rather not have to put up with. (back to the workshops) A few links that discuss the Deafhood workshops are NAD's, Ridor's, and Sandman's. It remains to be seen how much impact these workshops have on the general discourse, if they clear up the misunderstandings and misinterpretations that have circulated in the past few months, and if they help heal the damage that the Gallaudet situation has wrought on the community, but I believe they will go a long way.

Who’d have thought simply ordering pizza would cause such drama? On Friday, a large group of us decided to go back to M’s room and order pizza and just hang out until time for the ASL tribute. I called to place the order via my Sidekick, placed the order without incident, and warned the group that people would have to be ready to go to the front desk to pick it up and pay. An hour later, someone came to let us know the pizza was at the front desk, and T and K went to pick it up. I got a frantic page from T saying the delivery guy had already left. Several pages later, T had the front desk telephone the pizza place to ask for the guy to come back and M used her lovely new MacBook with iSight built in to VP the place. T got nowhere, even tho’ the front desk tried. He came back while M was still on VP and insisted on free pizza. The place refused, saying the delivery man had waited and waited. T believed that this was just not possible, and the VP conversation turned ugly. We got our money back and headed downstairs to find a restaurant. We ended up paying $25 each for a buffet because we didn’t have time to wait for orders to be delivered. It was ridiculously expensive, but dang, the food was go-od. The mahi mahi was to die for, and the mashed potatoes and vegetables were amazing. The desserts were sinfully rich. Others raved about the steak. We made it to the tribute with minutes to spare. *puff, puff*

Roz Rosen’s workshop on linguistic human rights was interesting, and I took away some neat words and phrases from it.
Deafheid
Painstream
Not language delayed - language deprived!
Deafness - the compound sign looks like it means all deaf people die - how fitting!

The heat was incredible. It was between 110 and 115 degrees during the day every single day. It was 89 degrees at midnight one night and 91 degrees at 7:30 am another day. For two days, all I could do was take baths with no hot water and just lie there, soaking my head, for twenty to thirty minutes, just to feel human again. The house thermostat was set to 78 degrees, which was too hot for me. I’m used to 70 degrees during the day and 55 at night, so 78 at night was miserably hot for me. Then an odd thing happened. I started to adjust. I was still unhappy, but I wasn’t thoroughly miserable. 78 started to feel pleasantly and wonderfully cool. I suspect I would never be able to fully acclimate myself, but I could have tolerated another week, which is shocking to me since I wilt in the heat like a delicate pansy.

Two very vocal bloggers nearly duked it out just before the fourth Deafhood workshop. Apparently McConnell insisted on talking to Ridor and they exchanged quite heated comments, but they didn’t come to blows, thankfully. They were able to agree to disagree, and now maybe they’ve seen the human face behind the postings, they will be able to disagree with respect.

The College Bowl was a lot of fun. I sat with two dear friends, one of whom is a college bowl alum, so he filled me in on how things are supposed to go and stuff like that. His thoughts can be found on his blog. Another account can be found on the NAD blog. I, however, had difficulty enduring Jackie Roth’s emceeing. She is an attractive lady and her signs were smooth and graceful. However, she was more denigrating than necessary to the judges, the scorekeepers, and other people involved in the competition. Furthermore, her signing was pure English word order, which bothered me. To me, it’s another example of colonialism and dysconscious audism. To her credit, it was easy to follow and understand, unlike most people who attempt to sign that way. However, I know of at least one person who could not understand her at all and had to rely on the captions - and this person grew up in a deaf family, went to deaf schools his whole life, is college educated, and is fully in the Deaf-World. Roth’s signing bothered me somewhat, but my friend was extremely incensed. Roth also emphasized her hearing in several ways throughout the whole event. For example, she made a point of saying she is hard of hearing, she harbored a fantasy of singing, and said something about using her voice. What message does this send? Other than the emcee, the event was fun to watch, and I was amazed at the level of intelligence shown in the discussions and at the answers the teams gave. Deaf IS good. *grin*

The last event I attended was the FSSA Rally on Sunday. My FSSA pin is probably in many pictures, because Ben Lewis borrowed it so he could make his speech with a pin. *grin* The rally was very brief, and it was basically “rah, rah.” We spent time talking amongst ourselves about the situation afterward. (scroll down on both pages on these blogs to see one picture and some thoughts about the rally.)

Sorry you asked how NAD was? *grin*

Here are some links that share reflections from other attendees:
http://sandmanssandbox.blogspot.com/2006/07/nad-personal-reflections-i.html
http://sandmanssandbox.blogspot.com/2006/07/nad-personal-reflections-ii.html
http://sandmanssandbox.blogspot.com/2006/07/nad-personal-reflections-iii.html
http://jarednevans.typepad.com/blog/2006/07/2006_nad_confer.html
http://www.deafdc.com/blog/?p=429
http://www.ridorlive.com/?p=1790