I often think about dual citizenship. Not in the typical sense of the word, but more regarding my place in the hearing world juxtaposed with my place in the Deaf world. The two ‘worlds’ can be very separate and distinct, but what I have come to realize and am continuing to discover for myself a place where they collide. To many people I look like your typical NYC young professional- often assumingly hearing. However; to others, “People of the Eye,” as George Veditz refers to people who are more visually oriented in dealing with the environment like Deaf and Hard of Hearing, others percieve me very differently.

After losing much of my hearing 23 years ago to bacterial meningitis, my parents as strong advocates, placed me in an oral deaf school where I learned to speak and hear using my residual hearing and a hearing aid. Technology at the time, simply allowed for amplification of all speech and environmental noises making communication hard in public places, like restaurants and any environment with hard floors and walls. Sounds familiar to the make-up of many public school classrooms, where chatty children and talkative teachers are unaware of the echoing and added noises were evident to any hearing impaired student listening through an amplification system. I remember often lowering the volume on my hearing aid or FM unit so that I would not have to deal with the environmental noises that seemed to impede on my teacher speaking.

On occasion when my peers would ask about my hearing aid behind my ear, I was always open to explaining why I had it. The reason was simple enough- it helps me hear. I simply used the opportunity to explain to my acquaintences that they would need my attention before they simply started talking to me so that we would have effective face-to-face communication. If teachers talked at the chalkboard I would have to remember to ask them to repeat themselves. Asking for repetition, whether through audition or sign language, is a learned skill and I think if taught at a young age the comfort and understanding goes a long way. Otherwise a child might think to themselves, 'oh well I missed that,' maybe I’ll catch up later or more likely, they might not even know they missed information.

I never thought of my hearing loss as a crutch or as a way of passing as a hearing person. To me there was nothing wrong with having a hearing aid. In fact, like many kids, I wanted one in every color. I even remember asking for one with diamonds. Having a hearing aid allowed me to have extra time with teachers, one-on-one meetings with professors, especially as I progressed in my studies and in French. My hearing loss often unnoticed by others because of my clear speech made things easy, but other times hard. For those that did not know me and did not expect my hearing loss, were not sensitive to my communication needs and often mistook me for inconsiderate if I did not respond to their questions. This is just one minute example that seems to happen repeatedly with new acquaintances.

Yet, throughout elementary and high school, as I have become more of an expert on my hearing loss and could understand its implications I began to think about how I could use it as a vehicle. How could I share the ride with others, making it easier for others to learn about and talk about hearing loss? Sharing my thoughts with my teachers and resource room teacher I found myself becoming a spokesperson. With their support and guidance I went into classrooms within my school and shared my knowledge and understanding with my peers about the anatomy of the ear, hearing loss and what it all means. From a young age I was able to normalize the conversation with my peers which has gone a long way.

This personal sense of confidence that was encouraged by my teachers and adult role models had grown to allow me to focus on my interests in French, journalism and public relations throughout my undergraduate career at Rutgers College. With internships in PR at a firm, a ski resort and a ski magazine I was able to hone my writing and communication skills. I was also able to lead the Rutgers Women’s Ski team to a regional championship competition that I am still proud of. During my junior year of college, I tried out and made the US National Deaf Ski Team which competed in Sweden for the 2003 Winter Deaflympic games. It was an opportunity that opened up my world up in more ways than I ever imagined.

Going in to the ski team training and competitions I had to learn how to communicate with my new teammates and coaches. They all used American Sign Language, while I was very oral. A voice interpreter helped me understand everyone on the mountain. With so many finer intricacies of getting your fingers to sign correctly in heavy ski gloves, or being able to see facial expression through your helmet and goggles was interesting at the least. Off the mountain, however; I was on my own to figure out how to best communicate. I started picking up sign language and using it with my peers, they helped me out as much as possible with mouth movements and repetition, just like hearing people have always had to do for me.

Even with all the sign language and visual communication in front of me, I was still seemed to be missing communicative information. I had grown to notice that sometimes I would miss it in the hearing world and now was missing it in the Deaf world. Where did Hard of Hearing fit into this picture? Before my Deaflympic experience I always thought the hearing and deaf world were very distinct and separate. I thought there was no need to cross lines; for hearing to dabble in the Deaf world and vice versa.
The Hearing world, an auditory-oral world, where verbal communication is the norm is often be taken for granted and the less obvious non-verbal features of spoken language go unnoticed. I think of how my dad used to have a long mustache that affected the quality of our communication a period of my youth. I also think of my mom, who tends to talk with coffee mugs or folded hands in front of her mouth. Without being aware or not thinking about the communication needs of the other people you are engaging with, borders can be drawn and walls may be put up.
I have come to realize however through my work experiences and place on the Deaf National Ski Team, that these walls should not exist and only separate and perpetuate a long held stigma of inferiority that is unrealistic.

This realization came on a winter night when I was standing outside on the red carpet of a certain heiress’ watch collection launch party. At that time, as part of my public relations job, my first job out of college, I was checking in B- and C-list type celebrities, when a group of teenagers walked by signing to each other. They were curious about the event that was taking place that evening on Madison Avenue, they were also curious who might have been inside. My ‘ears piqued up’ (my eyes really) when I saw them signing to each other. With my clip board under my arm, I interjected into their conversation by signing to them the purpose of the event. They were shocked! Someone on the street, well, on the red carpet, could communicate with them.

That was the moment I realized I ought to become a teacher, help other students get to where I am as a student at Teachers College or beyond. With the right mindset and post college work experience I was able to step foot in the right direction of educating Deaf and Hard of Hearing students. This moment was part of my growing Deafhood unbeknownst to me. Deafhood as Dr. Paddy Ladd coined in her book Understanding Deaf Culture: In Search of Deafhood (2003) speaks of the journey a Deaf person makes as they discover themselves as a person in the Deaf world. Ladd, a Deaf Studies scholar at the University of Bristol in England focuses on this journey, as a vehicle by which a Deaf person discovers themselves on a linguistic, mental and spiritual level regardless of hearing or speaking abilities. This notion of Deafhood is what connects people as part of the Deaf community and Deaf culture.

So as it would turn out, the story of my Deafhood began 23 years ago, with a high fever and nervous parents who insisted I was not hearing them. We had just returned home from an extended family vacation and as I have been told by my parents, I was not responding to the music box in my room or their voices. My father, a business man, and my mother, an elementary school teacher, went through what every hearing parents endure when they find out their child is not normal. They had no idea I would grow to become better than normal when they were driving me to Summit Speech School everyday or to the audiologist for routine audiograms. They had no idea I would become a social butterfly as I sat quietly through IEP meetings and in the front row of classes through high school and college using an FM system to hear teachers and professors. They had no idea I would become a ski racer on a national team when I was watching the winter Olympics as a child with closed captioning on the television. They really had no idea I would be come a teacher of the Deaf and Hard of Hearing either and now that they do, it all comes full circle.