Somewhat Silent

I lost my hearing at 6 years old, and was propelled into a community I had never heard of, never known, and didn’t want to be a part of. My community easily ceded ownership of me, the new community easily claimed ownership of me, and I balanced there delicately on the edge resenting the idea of being a part of any culture other than the one I had been born into. Circumstance could not dictate my family, my friends, or my identity.

The Deaf community pulls–not intentionally, but seductively. The language is easy and tickles my eyeballs, I see two people signing from across the street and a part of me gravitates in that direction. It’s a promise, an allure. Therein lays the ability to belong, to understand, to not be perpetually on the outside struggling to break in.

The hearing community pushes. I’m told that I should join Deaf groups, or it’s assumed that I know sign language.. Or they constantly talk about what they know of the Deaf community–showing off their knowledge of Gallaudet, or the language, or the Deaf people that they have known. The undercurrent is there. “You are deaf, you are different, you are here as an outsider”. They acknowledge my difference constantly, unaware that by “embracing my culture”– a culture that is not mine, they are pushing me away. Putting up walls.

Neither side understands why I do not capitulate, give in to the ease of understanding, and the acceptance. Sometimes, neither do I. It’s a balancing game that I’ve been playing since I was very young. It’s a pattern that I’ve embedded myself in, and a fight/struggle that has defined my life. In some ways built it, in some ways destroyed it.

I want the freedom to define the culture in which I exist. I want the freedom to move about and explore things. I view the Deaf culture as an “either, or” choice for myself. Because I know that if I were to take the plunge, I’d never want to come back out. I’d never want to speak another word in this alien tongue. I’d never want to struggle to understand the words on a person’s lips. The convenience would own me, and suck me into a culture that I’ve never really felt was my own. A culture that, aside from language, does not enthrall me.

Does that sound horrible? I want the language, not the culture.