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."





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[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.