Storytelling the Deaf Experience

Alright, two interesting facts about me: 1) I have panic disorder; and 2) my wife is studying to be a Deaf interpreter, and I am learning ASL (American Sign Language). Only one of those facts is really relevant to my post today. Today’s post (and I have never posted so soon after another post, but hey, I guess I’m getting more comfortable) is about Story.

At the school I am attending, we had an event aimed towards inciting awareness about Deaf Culture, a marginalized and oft-forgotten people group. There were several activities and workshops to attend, and Deaf guests were invited to speak and share about their experiences. The Deaf communications students were not permitted to speak. It was an interesting day. Deaf Culture is a fascinating one. They are very communally oriented[1] and believe in communal authority (so, for example, if a person in the Deaf community were to make a decision, it would be expected that they should bring it before the entire community of which they are apart); they do not believe their “condition” to be a handicap; they are incredibly honest and forthright, especially in their descriptions of people (they will identify people by saying, “the fat girl,” or “the bald guy;”).[2] Also, they often, as a community, feel oppressed and misunderstood by the hearing world.

And why should they not? They are often treated as slow or mentally handicapped (which they aren’t; there are some very intelligent Deaf people). Many times, people will not attempt to communicate with them, or even think they are incapable of communication like a normal person (which is untrue; ASL and other signed languages are accepted as actual languages). It is common for them to be denied work, or to be discriminated against by authorities (such as police officers or law officials).

This was very telling in the final workshop of the evening. My wife and I, and several friends, attended a two-hour event called “Storytelling the Deaf Experience.” This was a time where Deaf people from the community were invited to tell stories of their experiences being Deaf. This is right in their element, as when Deaf people gather, they will often have times of storytelling (they love stories); the different was, hearing people were invited as well.

I was amazed. It was a fascinating evening. But most interesting to me was that, as they were telling their stories, a common theme was one of oppression and of overcoming the oppressor. Many of their stories would revolve around a particularly oppressive hearing individual (to which the other Deaf people would gesticulate, often vocally, their understanding and agreement), detail the unfair quality of their treatment of the Deaf person, and then end with the Deaf person triumphing over the oppressive person. I will illustrate with a loose retelling from memory of one of the stories from an older Deaf woman:

I worked at the Post Office before I retired, and I was often treated badly. One day, I was mopping the floor, and one of the younger workers accidentally knocked a large pile of mail into where I was mopping. When I asked him to clean it up, he laughed and walked away. I was furious. I cleaned it up and kept mopping. A little bit later, he came by again, and this time he kicked the pile of mail into the spot I was mopping! I was furious. Several times he did this. Finally, I got so angry, I grabbed him and I said, “You clean up this mess, and then you mop the floor!” And he did. When the manager came by, he asked, “Why is he mopping?” I told him what had happened. Then the manager walked away, and that boy never did anything like that again.

This is very illustrative of the kinds of stories they would tell.

As I listened (or watched, I guess; the entire evening was all in Sign, of course), I was struck once again about how the stories a community tells define the community, and show their outlook upon the world they live in. I am reminded of the Israelite community of 1st century Palestine, who clung to liberation stories of the Exodus while under oppression to the Romans, or even the pre-Civil War African-American culture (and beyond), who clung to the exact same stories during their oppression by wealthy, white American landowners. For them, the stories represent hope and a common understanding of the community’s plight.

And once again, I am reminded of how, as one scholar said it, “we live in story like fish in the sea.”[3] Story is all around us, shaping us as we cling to them. And it makes me think that I should evaluate the kinds of stories that I cling to: the stories of Israel and Jesus of Nazareth, and even of Frodo and Harry Potter. These stories have a part in making me who I am, and informing how I will see the world. They are, in part, the life that I live and the air that I breathe.

Now enjoy this wonderful video made by a Deaf Performing Arts Group, set to John Mayer's song,"Waiting on the World to Change."





________________________

[1] Which shows through in their first meetings, where they will ask questions such as, “Where are you from?” “What school did you go to?” “Who was your teacher?” in an effort to find out how you are in the community and how they are connected to you.

[2] Interesting story. My wife and her friend interpreted a play once, and one of the Deaf people there said to my wife, “You were really good, but-“ turning to her friend “- you weren’t, you need work.”

[3] J. D. Crossan, The Dark Interval: Towards a Theology of Story, (Niles, IL: Argus, 1975), 47.

Creation and Story

Okay, I know it’s been a terribly long time since I last posted. For the few that read this blog, I apologize. It was the busy time of the semester. But I just finished my big ole 57-page Historical Jesus paper (don’t be impressed; the bulk of that length was just a bunch of self-indulgent appendices), so I have some more time. I expect soon to have a two-part post on themes of fantasy in Edgar Allan Poe. However, in the meantime, I would like to give you a link to a post done by a friend of mine, Stephen Lawson, which was particularly insightful. You can read it here.

This post got me thinking about a subject concerning the modus operandi of this blog. We are concerned here with the question of Story, as an epistemology, as a teacher, as a way of life, as a damn good time. One of the key ideas of Stephen’s post was that, if we are to combat the rampant consumerism that plagues the Western person, we must return to seeing “value in our work, not merely as a commodity to be exchanged, but as co-creation with God.” I agree. But “work” I think also must be understood as a very broad term.

Often I have been asked, when telling a fellow Christian that I am working on writing a book (specifically a fantasy series), “So are you going to try to bring the gospel into it.” To this, I always reply, “No. No, I’m not, actually,” a response which is often met with puzzlement. “Then why are you doing it?” they ask. I tell you, the very question pisses me off. As if the only reason to create, to do work, to do art, is to “convert” non-Christians. I have to say, this is a terrible philosophy, and shame on those fundamentalist brothers and sisters of mine who may believe it.

I write, I create, because I believe that by doing so, I am working as God intended for me. In the words of my friend, I am “co-creating” with God, and in that co-creation, I am exemplifying him in all his shining goodness (the very same “good” that was pronounced of the Creation). I am doing the work which I have been created to do. And if my story does not “smuggle the gospel” directly into its pages, if it does not create moments of apologetical discourse (which I particularly detest), if it does not end with the heroes all joining hands and praying while the non-Christian antagonist “accepts Jesus in his heart” (whatever the hell that means), then so much the better! This story is not simply a project, it is not a task simply done for some “goal,” nor are the people who hopefully (hopefully!) will read it. Rather, the story, and myself, and those I share it with, we are life and creation, and we are dialoguing with each other in a realm which we all know and hold dear: Story. I write because in doing so, I follow in continuity of the Grand Narrative of which we are all apart.

A quote from Tolkien is instructive in this matter (and a few others as well). This was taken from the final paragraph of his seminal essay, “On Fairy Stories”:

But in God's kingdom the presence of the greatest does not depress the small. Redeemed Man is still man. Story, fantasy, still go on, and should go on. The Evangelium has not abrogated legends; it has hallowed them, especially the “happy ending.” The Christian has still to work, with mind as well as body, to suffer, hope, and die; but he may now perceive that all his bents and faculties have a purpose, which can be redeemed. So great is the bounty with which he has been treated that he may now, perhaps, fairly dare to guess that in Fantasy he may actually assist in the effoliation and multiple enrichment of creation. All tales may come true; and yet, at the last, redeemed, they may be as like and as unlike the forms that we give them as Man, finally redeemed, will be like and unlike the fallen that we know.

Here’s to Story for the simple sake of Story, and enjoying it because it is an extension of our very being. Cheers!