Last week, in my September Observances article, I mentioned that Deaf Awareness Month is close to my heart. Of course, most people who know me know that the Deaf community and American Sign Language are two of the most precious aspects of my life. But I’ve never fully opened myself up about the reason why they mean the world to me.
But first, what is Deaf Awareness Month? Originally starting as International Day of the Deaf on Sept. 28, 1958, it aimed to celebrate and recognize the contributions and challenges of the Deaf community. Then, there was the expansion to International Week of the Deaf, in honor of the first World Congress of the World Federation of the Deaf held in 1951. Over time, these two celebrations eventually spread to include the entire month of September.
The month is celebrated to raise awareness about the incredible diversity, history, and strength of the D/deaf community. From Deaf (culturally Deaf) to deaf (medically deaf) identities, to the middle-ground of the Deaf and hearing worlds that hard-of-hearing individuals must navigate, to those who are DeafBlind, Late-Deafened, or DeafDisabled.
For this article, I wanted to do something special, so I interviewed with UCF ASL Instructor Ashley Mackay to discuss life as a Deaf woman and what Deaf Awareness Month means to her. But, as Mackay’s student and ULA, I knew the best way to complete the interview would be in her preferred language: American Sign Language.
I began by asking about her life journey as someone who is Deaf. Mackay told me the story of her family recognizing that she was Deaf, and the effort they made to help her have access to the world; they attended a Deaf ministry at their church, which helped Mackay and her family learn ASL. Then, she was able to attend Lake Sybelia Elementary’s program for Deaf and Hard of Hearing students, with signing teachers and her hearing aids.
As she grew up, Mackay realized that she preferred ASL over using her hearing aids. She then clarified that was the case for her, not all D/deaf people, as estimates indicate that only about 250,000 to 500,000 people use ASL in comparison to the estimated 11 million people that are Deaf/hard of hearing. Some people prefer to use hearing aids or cochlear implants, while others prefer to speak or lipread. This is generally why it is encouraged to let the deaf person lead the conversation and decide how they’d like to communicate.
As I worked on captioning our interview, considering these different preferences reminded me of the first piece of Deaf history I had learned when I started taking ASL classes virtually in high school. Many deaf people rely on speech and lipreading due to oralism and the forced teaching of deaf people to communicate using speech and lip-reading, which was once enforced in schools.
This “ban” on sign language in schools can cause the issue of language deprivation, or the lack of developmentally-appropriate proficiency in any natural language. Today, almost 70% of deaf children struggle with language deprivation due to the belief that “using only spoken language will provide their child with accessible and adequate input.” This means that not only do deaf children face the barrier from their deaf culture, but also the basic necessity of language and communication itself.
I then asked Mackay what Deaf Awareness Month meant to her personally, as well as what she wished more people understood about the Deaf community. She said that “Awareness means recognizing, respecting, and valuing the strong Deaf community, their rich culture, and their language — not just seeing them as ‘people that can’t hear.”
She also said that she hopes people can learn to spread awareness and be mindful of inclusion. Understanding the barriers the deaf community faces every day is extremely important. These may include the constant issue of having to ask for captions or interpreters to be available, when they should already be readily available, the same way information is readily available for hearing people. Similarly, outdated ideas and terms like “hearing impaired” and “disabled” have got to go. These terms suggest that deaf people are broken, that their hearing is something “wrong” to fix. There is nothing wrong with Deaf people: they can read, write, drive, and do anything, just like the rest of the world.
“Awareness means recognizing, respecting, and valuing the strong Deaf community, their rich culture, and their language — not just seeing them as ‘people that can’t hear.”
UCF Instructor Ashley Mackay, on the significance of Deaf Awareness Month.
When asked about true accessibility, Mackay states that it means having equal access to communication and information — captions, sign language interpreters, and visual alerts so she can fully be aware and participate. Beyond that, true accessibility means putting in the work to fully include deaf people in conversations and events, without them having to put in extra effort or feeling left out. She then discussed that the world we live in is a hearing world. It’s even in the name: EARth. Imagine if you had to step into a Deaf person’s world: EYEth. A world without sounds, where everything must be visible.
For some, there’s an even more complex world to step into: the DeafBlind world. Those who are DeafBlind rely only on sensation. This has created a unique branch of ASL, known as Tactile Signing. Furthermore, the DeafBlind community also utilizes Protactile, a recent language that relies on the agency and body of the users.
To conclude our interview, I asked Mackay what message she would like people to take away from this month. She wants people to understand that the more who learn and understand Deaf culture, the community, and language, the fewer barriers there will be, and the stronger bridge that can be built between the Deaf and hearing worlds.
She suggests that people should learn basic signs, as even a few signs can show respect and help with communication. Even writing or texting back and forth can help. People can also learn from Deaf experiences shared on social media and share them with friends and families to spread awareness. People can also attend local or virtual events celebrating Deaf culture and community. Finally, they can advocate for accessibility, such as captions, interpreters, and inclusive spaces in the community, to better include the Deaf community. By taking these steps, hearing people can learn to be true allies.
As I thanked Mackay and the Deaf community for welcoming me into the community, she turned the question to me. “Have you described that you’ve become hard of hearing?” In that moment, I was reminded of the very reason I had started my ASL journey five years ago.
In December 2020, I, a sophomore in high school, was stressed over completing my seven virtual AICE and honors classes, along with two college dual enrollment courses. One day, I woke up as normal to log into my virtual first period — only to realize I couldn’t hear anything. Everything on my right ear was muffled, while my left ear couldn’t pick up any sound at all. I was also experiencing balance issues and vertigo, barely able to walk in a straight line or keep myself from missing a step on a staircase.
After consulting multiple doctors, ENTs, and audiologists, they concluded that I possibly had a condition called Meniere’s disease. Halfway through that process, the muffled sensation and loss of hearing in my ears began to lessen, though they’ve never truly felt the same since then. Because of that, the doctors decided that we would re-evaluate my hearing every year to track what we figured out were fluctuations based on my physical and mental health.
After that, I faced the reality that my hearing could very well change one day to the point that I may become Deaf. So, I began my ASL classes online, and continue them in college. As I learned more about the culture, community, and language, I slowly started to wonder: who am I? Am I a hearing woman, or a hard-of-hearing woman? If my hearing fluctuates so much, where do I fall?
Then, this summer, I had to face the nail in my hearing’s coffin. I attended a rock concert, where my family and I were re-seated to a much lower section than we had purchased. Without proper ear protection, since I didn’t think I’d need it, I sat through the nearly three-hour concert in silent pain. In the following days, I experienced diminished hearing, earaches, tinnitus, and vertigo. Even now, I still struggle with these issues. After another consultation, I was confirmed to have bilateral hearing loss. While I wait for my appointments in December to confirm the root cause, I now have to face the identity-sized elephant in the room.
But this time around, I didn’t feel as scared. I’ve been practicing my ASL for years now, and though I’m still learning, I can confidently hold a conversation now. Plus, I’ve made incredible friends and connections with the local Orlando Deaf community through ASL Deaf Chat. After chatting with Mackay and my ADC friends about the Deaf and hearing worlds and where hard-of-hearing people fall between them, I feel at peace with myself. I thank them all, because this Deaf Awareness Month, I can now identify myself with pride as a hard-of-hearing woman.
So, please, learn, understand, and be open to accessibility and inclusion for the Deaf community. They are the most beautiful, welcoming, and warm people I’ve had the honor to become a part of.