Nosy by Nature
Earlier this week, I had a wonderful opportunity to fellowship with a noisy bunch of people at the National Black Deaf Advocates Conference in St. Louis.
I was only able to attend one day of the week-long event. I sat in awe as the talented, the energetic, and confidant black college students wooed me. They had set the stage to be future role models. Their message to give back to their community wasn’t a new one, and I don’t even know if it has been their theme year after convention year, but I believed them. They were determined to enhance the lifestyle for their fellow Deaf black brother and sister, and educate a misinformed hearing world with no intentions of looking back.
Most people in my hearing world marveled at why I would want to attend such a conference. For one reason is my brother-in-law is Deaf. Besides the occasional night Deaf classes offered at local high schools and one friend who are close to being certified as an interpreter, I’m a pre-amateur—if there is such a word.
The second is the character in my next book, Talk to Me, is deaf. I went to the convention for research, but I left thirsty for more. I have to admit I didn’t know what to expect. I never thought I would crave, just for one minute, a chance to enter their world. I was only isolated if I choose to be. I felt banned to a dark corner on punishment and watched as the kids around me played carelessly, taunting me to come outside and join them.
I wondered which is greater, the yearning to be peer inside the window of the sometimes segregated Deaf community to eavesdrop on their world and communication, or to be Deaf and have a desire to hear the sounds that we take for granted. I was treated as an old friend although it was the first time I had come face to face with any of them.
By my own ignorance, I expected complete silence. I mean, the Deaf community communicates with their hands. What opened my eyes was they also speak with their heart. One example was their uninhibited laughter. Noisy exchanges revealed their jubilation. I was enthralled as college students performed skits
Of course I couldn’t leave the conference without becoming frustrated. I decided to check out a workshop “Signing for the Deaf Presenters.” Taking a seat in the back of the room, I had planned to slip out unnoticed after a few minutes and head to work.
That wasn’t possible when a guy walked into the front of the room. I must have had “outsider” stamped on my forehead because he began to sign to me. Throughout the day, only one expression seemed to come in handy, “I’m hearing.” So I repeated to the gesture to him basically to be let off the hook. It didn’t work. He continued to challenge me as if “come again.” Then he folded his arms across his chest, mimicking he had an attitude. And I said it out loud because I didn’t care if he could read my lips or not. Games over, I walked out of the room to go to work. The man followed still signing to me. Okay, I said, let me help make this man understand. I flipped open my book to find the right phrases. That didn’t work. I shrugged my shoulders, waved good-bye and walked to the elevator. Seconds later, he called out to me, laughing. So the joke was on me.
This short encounter challenged and encouraged me to step up to the plate and accept the invitation to their world—not only learn to sign, but learn to communicate. It was just one day, only a few hours, but the impact was unmistakable. I’m crawling now, then I’ll take baby steps, but one day LOOK OUT–I will arrive.
Nosy by Nature Reporter out…
