It’s that time of year again at the office… Time to play “Secret Santa.” Those of us out here on the Left Coast are no exceptions to the rule. My wife is buying something for a co-worker at the office; additionally, in the spirit of the season, we decided to adopt a child at a local school, thanks to a notice my wife received at work. We’ll be providing a gift for a child from, as they say, “a disadvantaged background.”

This is nothing new for me. While I always had an embarrassment of riches come Christmas morning, my family has always helped with local food drives, adopted families through local social service agencies, and the like. Christmas to me has always been about the spirit of sharing, of caring, of spreading joy, regardless of your beliefs, politics, or values (my new buzzword of the week seems to be “always”…). So to me, that’s Christmas: the warmth of the human spirit, and the ability to demonstrate love and compassion, qualities that seem to often be in short shrift.

This “Secret Santa” gig for our adopted child is a little bit different from what I’m used to: usually when I’ve been asked to help out with things like this, there’s a list of things that the child likes, or enjoys doing, and that acts as a guide for gifts. The same is true with playing Santa at work; usually there’s no specific desire, just a few general likes and dislikes. It allows for a certain amount of flexibility.

Not this time around. This time, we had a very specific request: our child asked Santa (after reassuring that she’s been behaving, at least since, oh, Thanksgiving) for a “My Scene Fab Faces Doll.” Ok, ask and ye shall receive. No problem. But I’m definitely behind the times. I left childhood behind more years ago than I care to remember, and I am, for the time being, childless. I don’t see my niece often enough to be brought up to date on the latest, and I haven’t watched Saturday morning cartoons in eons, so I have been fortunate enough not to be bombarded with advertising for the toy based on the cartoon I’m now watching (or rather, the cartoon I’m watching based on the toy I’m supposed to have already bought the minute it was available for pre-orders on Amazon). What this means, of course, is that I need to find out what a “My Scene Fab Faces Doll” is, and buy one.

Well, I know we’ve had quite a few toys over the years that are gender specific, hew to stereotypes or trends, or definitely fall into the realm of fantasy. Barbie, of course, is a perennial winner in these categories: if she was real, she’d be about a 39-19-33 (I’ve also seen proportionate real-world measurements for everybody’s favorite doll at 32-20-42; in any event, both stats are grossly out of whack with real-life women), and over 7 feet tall. Not exactly representative… This doll, however, or four dolls, actually, both amused and shocked me. Take a look (here, here, here, and here): don’t you think these four look like teen hookers? Fake furs, quite short, glittery, sequined, one-piece dresses, high heels, a matching outfit of hot pants and a flimsy tank top, and too much makeup (or suggested makeup, if you will)?

Don’t get me wrong– I have nothing against dolls in general, and although I can be old-fashioned about some things, I usually don’t bat an eye at anything I see or hear. On the contrary, I’m rather jaded, I think, and open-minded (at least I hope so!) about a lot of things– and that includes what women wear (or don’t wear). I think both women and men should have the right to dress and accessorize as they wish, to express their personality however they want. But with these dolls, I’m beginning to wonder if I’m starting to become slightly reactionary, or if they are, in fact, are a wee bit over the top. Still, dolls have over the centuries catered to stereotypes, from the dolls made for children as a method of socializing the child towards motherhood, to the glamour and glitziness of Barbie, a doll consumed by shopping and fashion. We boys had dolls too, except they are called *ahem* action figures. From G.I. Joe to superheroes, our he-men modeled machismo and male stereotypes all across the board. Daddy goes out into the world, shoots to kill, beats up the bad guys, and brings home the bacon; Mommy takes care of children, cooks and cleans, goes on shopping sprees, makes sure she looks fab at the pool, and now, apparently, wears fake furs and hot pants. Madonna to whore– dolls run the whole gamut of stereotypes from A to B (apologies to Dorothy Parker!). I’m hoping the intended recipient we are buying these for grows up to have a broader, more enlightened view of feminity than just clothes and makeup.
If I was solely in charge of picking the gift, I’d have picked something else. Art materials, maybe. A good book, definitely. Maybe a different kind of doll– even a Barbie, perhaps. But this was a request to Santa, and as one of his (self-appointed!) elves, we had an obligation to fill the order. Knowing that this gift may be one of the few (or perhaps only!) gifts this child will receive this year, we decided to splurge. Come December 25, “Chelsea” and “Kennedy” will have a new home, and a new owner, somewhere in Los Angeles. Although we will never know, we hope we have succeeded as Secret Santas, and spread that seasonal cheer a bit further.

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A couple of weeks ago was the Great American Smokeout, which is always the third Thursday of November. It got me thinking about one of my more recent (if you can call it that!) posts on this site, Cancer Cures Smoking. It’s ironic, but while I’m a non-smoker, I’m not crazy about smokers being around me, and I have no sympathy for smokers when it comes to increased taxes, fees, and the like, I see tobacco as part of history. Thus, when well-meaning companies and organizations attempt to do the Politically Correct thing, I see it as an attempt to erase history.

Let me give you an example. Earlier this year, Turner Broadcasting (the same folks that brought you colorized movies) announced they were going to edit a bunch of Hanna-Barbera and MGM cartoons, such as the Flintstones and Tom and Jerry, and remove any scenes that “glamorized” smoking. While i understand the pressure they might be under from various groups, in this instance the decision was prompted by *one* complaint– not hundreds, not thousands.

I disagree with their decision. These cartoons aren’t just episodes and vignettes we watch today, they’re also from and representative of an earlier time in our history. After all, there’s a lot to criticize in these animated offerings beyond smoking. The Tom and Jerry cartoons, while far more mild than their Warner Brothers counterparts, featured cartoon violence. The Flintstones, an animated take-off on the old “Honeymooners” show, shows a lovely domesticated family with decidedly 50’s and early 60’s values and mores, especially regarding women’s roles in the house and in society.

Although I generally agree that TV has a very strong influence on people, especially impressionable young minds, animators, film corporations and television companies can do the “right” thing with anything they make these days (I haven’t watched Saturday morning shows in ages, but the last time I checked, about fifteen to twenty years ago, what was being shown were essentially extended animated commercials for products sold at your local Toys R Us and Target). To whitewash history is to pander to certain segments in our society who aren’t willing to take a rational, reasoned approach to programming (such as perhaps becoming involved in current programming, rather than trying to edit old shows made 40 or more years ago.

Lest you think it’s merely Turner that’s guilty of creative editing, others are to blame too. Disney, for example, edited out Pecos Bill’s cigar in the “Pecos Bill” short, seen in the animated musical anthology of shorts, “Melody Time” (a junior version of “Fantasia,” “Melody Time” and its companion “Make Mine Music” were made in the immediate post-war years in the late 1940s, sort of the doldrums for Disney, before he resurged during the 1950s with “Peter Pan,” “Lady and the Tramp,” and “Sleeping Beauty,” among others). Excuse me, but emasculating a cowboy by taking away his cigar? Sure, Pecos Bill is still enjoyable sans cigar, but it reduces the original work through a form of politically correct censorship. Disney did the same thing in recent years at its flagship amusement park, Disneyland, when they changed the pirates in the Pirates of the Carribean ride to chasing women carrying platters of food, rather than the women themselves. Funny, but it was my understanding that pirates who attacked a seaport in the Spanish Main usually added carousing to the looting and burning. They’re *pirates* you know– bad guys…? Still, with the supersizing going on today, chasing a bunch of food wasn’t entirely out of place, I guess. I’ve heard that as part of the retrofit for the “Pirates of the Caribbean” movies, they’re going to remove the food and go back to pirates being pirates. Now if they’d just put Pecos Bill’s cigar back…

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So, I got into grad school. Now I need to decide what kind of accommodations to request for my classes.

As an undergraduate, I had note takers and interpreters. The problem with going to school in an Oralist stronghold…not a big pool of sign language interpreters to choose from. My college ended up hiring one full-time but before he came abroad, I went through the short list pretty quickly.

The interpreter I had is brilliant, one of the best in the area and a science fiction writer to boot, but before he was hired as a staff member, I had to deal with one who showed up late for my classes, and who had an unstable ex-army medic boyfriend and voiced in ASL. The problem with the crazy ex-army medic boyfriend wasn’t just that he was crazy, he was also an interpreter and they’d troll my signing hearing friends looking for someone they could take under their wing. Understand that this meant not only mentoring a fledging interpreter so they could expand their business but also finding a third person to join their relationship. There were suspicious personal ads appearing every week in the local free paper looking for a short brown-haired shapely woman, must be willing to learn sign language. What’s more, is that I had a straight male interpreter for my yoga class and he was visibly getting off on the class, looking down my shirt and ogling the other women in my class. The one that ended up becoming my interpreter for the next four years was a life-saver. He’s brilliant, handsome, muscular, witty, and not straight, so he fit in at a women’s college perfectly.

My note takers were usually good but it was difficult trying to decipher someone else’s writing and I always wanted my own notebook. It’s funny, but having a notebook of one’s very own is important. I was sad I didn’t have my own lined notebook filled with my own handwriting. I had to figure out how to organize my notes from the readings, the Xeroxed paper filled with someone else’s writing and the handouts from class. I always wanted to have a perfect notebook with neat writing and appropriately high-lighted phrases, but you know, people in hell want iced water too. Now at work, I have notebooks filled with to-do lists, ideas and strategies. That little composition book is such a pleasure, especially because it’s orange and has an elephant on the cover.

I didn’t even know about CART back then. If I knew, I would have asked for CART for my art history lecture classes. Perfect notes and it’d have been so much easier to process information in my first language, written English. I also wish I knew cued speech. I would be so set! No worries about missing content-specific vocabulary.

Now…I’m in DC and there are plenty of top interpreters in the area. I just have to give Johns Hopkins a list and I should be all set to go, that is, if they’re able to get the people I asked for. I’d like to try CART, though. So guys, what did you use and why? I really wish I could get CART and an interpreter but I know that it’s outrageously expensive to have both. Is that fair? What are “reasonable accommodations” to ask for?

Also, do you ever feel guilty because of how expensive you are?

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This Wednesday, November 29 will be a momentous occasion for Bonnie, Shoshannah Stern’s character on Jericho, the CBS TV series: Bonnie will finally have a scene in which there is no voice-over or simcom for her.

For Sho, this has got to be exciting. She’s been hoping for such a scene since the show began, and the producers and writers even let her try her hand at writing. They’ve been what Sho calls “amazing.” Fortunately, Sho was also kind enough to take the time and comment on why this is such an important moment.

Bonnie is just one character out of a sizable ensemble in a primetime drama where the plot is certainly much bigger than a Deaf character we can root for (for those not in the know, check out the Jericho premise here — if it were a book, it’d be a pageturner). Nonetheless, Stern casts light on why Bonnie isn’t just the token Deaf girl in this storyline:

I think the character of Bonnie speaks to the rest of us because she has always had to depend on other people to get information. For the other people in Jericho, that used to be the easiest thing in the world. All they had to do was turn on the television or flip on the radio, and the information would be within reach. In a sense, after the bombs, the people of Jericho have been thrust in the position where Bonnie has been her whole life. …Theoretically, they have now been cut off from civilization in the same way that Bonnie was cut off from society. So in a strange sense, it’s somewhat easier for Bonnie to adapt to what’s going on than for anyone else living in Jericho.

Lest you think Bonnie’s lesson is how to survive despite being simultaneously isolated and dependent, consider the importance of having a scene where Bonnie’s signing is unhampered by voiceover.

…Bonnie lost her parents at a very young age. She’s always needed at the Richmond farm, so that is basically the whole scope of her existence. I think before the bombs happened, she never questioned these circumstances. … But now, everything’s changed. So, I think she’s had a lot going on in her head for a long time that she hasn’t been sharing with anyone. That’s why I think the scene with no voice-over or sim-com is so important. It serves as a sort of catharsis for her. She’s done with doing things for other people and communicating the way that they do. She’s going to do what she wants and what feels natural for her.

Okay, so a storyline where a Deaf girl isn’t just a novelty, and a scene long overdue on primetime television? Dang it. I’m watching. This, I’ve gotta see.

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I don’t get it.

Waiting in line at an ungodly hour just so you can save $20, $50, or even $100 bucks on a new toy that you want, but not necessarily need.

On Thanksgiving, a friend convinced me to get up at 3:30 am on Friday morning so they could try to get one of the monitors that was discounted from $249 to $129. I admit I was curious to what the stores were like on Black Friday because I’ve never been, at least not at 5 in the morning.

So off we went. At 3:30 in the morning. I’m not fully awake, mind you.

At Best Buy in Columbia, MD. the parking lots are FULL. the lines go out the door, past DSW, around the corner, and is starting to go out the back. I look at my friend and go, YOU really expect me to get out of this car and wait in line with you just because you want a monitor, one that you just want, not need. Granted, I understand the need for the new monitor, but it’s not of absolute necessity, at least not for the time being.

We roll out of the parking lot and head for Circuit City. It’s 4:45. Only 15 minutes until the stores open. The parking lot has caused a traffic jam onto route 40. People are also parking in the Home Depot lot. It’s full, not because people want to go to Home Depot, but because the Circuit City parking lot is full. (although there are people waiting outside of Home Depot until it opens, I questioned that). The line is outrageous. No way these people are going to get what they want.

I scratch my head in wonderment as to whether the people waiting in line are really going to get everything they want.

We try our luck at Office Depot. After 10 minutes of waiting in the car, we realize that they won’t be opening until 6 am. No way am I sitting in this car for another hour.

I made my friend promise that we will never ever ever ever get up at an ungodly hour just to get a good deal. It’s not worth it.

I still don’t get it. Waiting in lines for hours at a time, fighting someone for the last camera. It’s not worth it.

Later in the day, I meet some friends at Tyson’s Corner. I’m amazed at how many people car stalk other people just so they can get a parking spot near the front. I just drive until I find a spot which was 5 minutes later. See– I’ve never been to Tyson’s Corner. That’s one huge shopping center. No way would I ever want to shop here on a regular basis. Where do you begin?!

People are oblivious to other people. They let their kids wander back and forth, causing me to stumble and trip over my own 2 feet because I’m trying to stop myself from running a 5 year old over. I have to remind myself constantly, it’s the holidays, just breathe because you’re not in a hurry.

Families wander up and down the mall all lined up in a row, so no one can pass. THAT drives me insane. It’s like a race, trying to figure out when and how will I pass them. Mothers with strollers, stopping at every window and blocking your way. It’s crazy.

I don’t get why people would wait in line for hours just because they want the new Playstation 3, the WII, the XBox, the latest & best in toys, the best camera, the best new flat screen tv. Sure you save some money, but is it worth all the fighting & waiting in line & saving a couple bucks?

All I know is, I am never ever ever EVER getting up before 7 am on Black Friday. I think it’s CRAZY. I’ll be one of those curled up in my bed & snoozing the day away.

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© Copyrighted material. This article cannot be copied, reproduced or redistributed without the express written consent of the author. As with every blog on this website, this blog does not reflect the opinion of DeafDC.com.

“Mama, do you want to know the title of the paper I’m writing for class?”

“Sure, Joey. Do tell.”

“It’s “Mentiroso Sordo.”

“It sounds interesting. What’s it about? Or should I ask who?”

“It’s about how certain people fibbed in a big way when they said deaf people can do anything. Yes, Mama. You know who they are – those people who said, “Deaf People Can Do Anything But Hear” They’re mentirosos. Liars. Evangelical ones at that too.”

“That’s quite the accusation, Joey – and I’m not sure I like it. What’s going on? What’s making you say this? I think I already want you to tone it down a bit?”

“Mama, remember, Jose? The skinny kid I used to play stickball with on the streets back home? Well, he emailed me. He said he was going to start his own mall in Tlaquepaque. And I’m sure you already know that our “City of Malls” doesn’t really need another mall especially when they’re quickly becoming a thing of the past. Anyway, Jose went on to ask what I thought of his stupid idea of marching into the Commercial Service at the US Consulate in Guadalajara and demanding assistance based on disability a la the American way.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh.

I wave my hands and with a look of concern, I motion for Joey to continue.

“Well, Mama. I squashed his dream to bits. Esta’ pensanda en las musaranas. His head was way up in the sky. I had to.”

“Running a business is never easy wherever you are.”

“I know, Mama. But we’re talking about Jose. And you know I love him like a brother. But there is just no way he could ever succeed. Maybe if he were more educated? Mexico isn’t America - and even in America, you really have to know how to read, write and multiply 4 by 4. One really has to know how to be a full participant in this hearing world to survive. And don’t give me bull about how hearing people need to at-ti-tu-di-nal-ly change.”

I express visual discontent.

“Sorry, Mama. Anyway, so that’s what I’m getting at. Jose falsely believes he can do anything he wants even though he cannot really read, write or effectively communicate. Too many of us deaf people have been misguided especially here in America.”

Misled. Duped. Fooled.

I mutter, “I think you may have done the right thing by bringing Jose out of those clouds.”

“And Mama - Las cosos no son como parecen. Things are not what they seem at Gallaudet.”

---

“Mama, a high-ranking senator has denounced Gallaudet’s actions and all FSSA can do is turn a blind eye. They’ve pulled the worst Helen Keller possible. Can they really be that oblivious to the implications?”I nervously chuckle and ask, “You mean, Senator McCain’s resignation?”

“Yes, and I’m certain it isn’t just the senator and those in his office who disagree. I’m convinced that there are government officials elsewhere who are beginning to realize that Gallaudet needs to be forced off its high horse.”

Entrada de caballo y salida de burro.

Enter on horseback, exit on burro.

Off with a bang, out like a light.

“And what happens if this Senator actually becomes President?”

---

Joey signs bubble. Big bubble.Head bobs in. And out.

Can see in. Can’t see out.

“The issue is not about the Gallaudet President or Provost. It is not about racism or audism. It is not about being deaf enough.”

The issue is that Gallaudet calls itself a world-class university when it should not.

To survive, Gallaudet has no choice but to admit the unqualified.

The stars shine elsewhere now.

“My proposed solution?”

He signs Gallaudet. A ‘G’ whizzes past his left eye.

Bubble. Same bubble. His large connected, cupped hands float.

Small door open. Scoop out culture.

“Set aside. Incubate or if preferred, season and marinate.”

I carefully acknowledge the culinary metaphor.

“Deaf culture and educacion. Two different things,” he gestures with the separation of his orbed hands.

“Gallaudet exists to provide higher educacion. Or at least, supposedly. Gallaudet is not Uxmal nor is it Jerusalem. Kendall Green is not hallowed ground.”

“Government does not measure culture or ASL. It measures only educacion.”

“Gallaudet has received poor marks. A big red F.”

Scarlet letter.

Another bubble. Big bubble.

“Secondary deaf educacion,” he says.

“Most schools for the deaf? Pedagogical failure. Despite decades of research, there continues to be no successful model for educating deaf children.”

Bubbles.

De la subida mas alta es la caida mas lastimosa.

The bigger you are, the harder you fall.

Pop. Pop. Adios.

Joey dramatically signs, “Perhaps we should think about closing Gallaudet. And closing the deaf schools.”

Timber.

“$107 million. Millions more in state and other funding.”

“Joey, if Gallaudet and these schools are shut down, what happens to Deaf culture or even sign language?”

“They survive. Set aside some of these millions to ensure their preservation and continuity. Decentralize and create nationwide cultural community centres with linkages to universities and secondary schools of varying caliber. Why can’t we have several deaf centres instead of one? Shouldn’t there be several places around this big country where one can play stickball and be amongst their own?”

Joey continues, “If Gallaudet were to close, many of today’s students would realize that they do not have the needed knowledge, experience or scholastic test scores to be admitted to other universities. Let students humbly accept their misfortunes - and in turn, work to raise the bar for future generations.”

He attempts to summarize, “In other words, let’s stop lying to students, alumni and more importantly, ourselves.”

“Gallaudet is not world-class. It never was. Its alumni should not be led to believe that they should mimic the arrogance or egos of Ivy League socialites.”

Pop.

“Pass some ‘Leave No Deaf Child Behind’ legislation. Require parents of deaf children to use adaptive child-rearing strategies that revolve around both sign language and speech therapy. The Darwinian philosophies of adaptation and survival also need to be factored in.”

Two floating orbs. Hearing and deaf. Combine. One.

Integration.

“Key” is signed to demonstrate emphasis.

“Joey, I’m sure you have more to say but isn’t this all a bit extreme? Shutting down Gallaudet would be abandonment. We can’t leave these kids behind.”

Joey concludes,

You know I’ve a heart of gold. And I would never purposely hurt another. And Mama, it was you who always said,

The truth hurts.

Pop.

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© Copyrighted material. This article cannot be copied, reproduced or redistributed without the express written consent of the author. As with every blog on this website, this blog does not reflect the opinion of DeafDC.com.

Call me nuts. Call me dumb. But, I’m telling myself it was well worth it.

I am the proud owner of a new Nintendo Wii.

I’m not much of a gamer. This is the first system I’ve purchased on my own outright and first system I’ve had since the original Nintendo system back in the mid ’80s.

My wife and I had discussed the possibility of purchasing a game system for our daughter, who has been telling us she wants Santa to get her one this Christmas. We did the research, we tested the systems, we checked out the prices. We narrowed it down to the Wii and the older Nintendo system, the Gamecube. If I could not get the Wii, we would have gotten the Gamecube instead.

At 6:45am Sunday morning, I got up, fully intending to be at Target by 7:05 to wait in line for the 8:00 opening of the store. I dilly-dallied and didn’t leave the house until 7:05, arriving there at 7:20, only to find out that the tickets for the game system had been given out. There were only 80 units available. I saw Roy, the spouse of one of my colleagues in line. It so happens that he lives only two miles away and was able to get there at 6:30am. “Best Buy is your best bet,” he pointed at the store down the shopping center.

I glanced at the line, which looked much longer than the Target one. There goes my morning, I thought.

Ready to accept failure for the second time, I drive over and get in line, with my most recent edition of Sports Illustrated in hand, I stand in the line from 7:24 until 8:06, when I start IMing with my wife, who is at home in her warm bed, and I explain to her what happened at Target and prepare for the worse. The line in front of me looks like over 100 people. I keep telling myself there’s no way I will get a Wii.

Then at around 8:10am, A Best Buy employee, flanked by a county police officer who is wearing an additional gun that is yellow in color and resembles a fat cartoon-type gun (I tell my wife I think it shoots rubber bullets) gives out tickets. He almost misses me because I’m leaning on the wall typing into my Sidekick.

I’m number 79!!! What an omen! My birthyear is 1979! He continues giving out tickets, then stops not far from me, announcing to the nearly 60 more people that there are no more left. Best Buy only had 90 units for sale yesterday morning.

This guy in front of me, once he gets his ticket, he goes to his car and gets a laptop. He sits down and starts fiddling with it. I guess he felt comfortable enough to leave the line. People start tag-teaming. One goes to get McDonald’s. Another team goes to Starbucks. I start to wish my wife had waited with me.

Along with the ticket, I get a list of accessories, and their prices. The store doesn’t open until 9am, so my wife keeps me company. We discuss which accessories to buy (Let’s get the classical controller, an extra wireless remote, and I’ll get 3 games at Target [get three games, get a $20 gift certificate for free]).

We gasp at how much the games cost (average $49.95, with the cheapest being $29.95), and how much we should put into a game system we’re not even sure our daughter will like. What attracted us to the Wii was its simpleness — how we would be able to use only two controllers, both with simple designs, not as bulky or complicated as the Xbox 360 or the most recently released Playstation 3. Plus we felt it was more appropriate for a five year old (and her 28 year old father who may occassionally play a game or two).

A quarter to nine, I start to feel numbness in my fingers from typing on IM, and my feet start aching from standing for nearly an hour and half. We start counting down the minutes until the store opens.

At 9:00am, the doors open and the line moves into the store. I exclaim to my wife “WHOOOOO!” This feels like being the first person in the entire start of Maryland to claim hands on a Wii. (Hey, I wonder, what number was I actually? The 403rd person? Hmm…)

Then the line stops abruptly. What???? I’m only 20 feet away from the doors and the warmth of the store after standing outside in 38 degree weather since 7:24am.

I can’t see inside the store, but after ten minutes, I see the first customer leave the store, and I wonder…will someone try to rob him? I had heard of thieves sticking up people who had waited in line for the Playstation 3. He gets to his car safely, and so do others after him.

At 9:20, I finally enter the store…ahhh. The warmth bringing blood back to my fingertips. No longer do I feel numbness. The line goes on around the corner up to where the Geek Squad customer service desks are. I see people holding “Legend of Zelda” games, extra wireless remotes, and exclaiming at the games available. Finally, after waiting an extra twenty minutes and picking up the new DVD of Cars for my daughter’s birthday in a few weeks, I finally get to the front of the line, browse over the games, deciding it’s better to purchase at Target, and go to the next available register.

I hand over my ticket. Number seventy-nine. My good luck charm. Behind the counter comes a gleaming white box. I tingle in excitement. The Wii.

$249.99 goes out of my pocket. I rush to my car, hide it in the trunk, and walk over to Target. I go to the electronics department, look for the Wii games, pick out three games. Two my daughter can play. One I can play myself.

The only thing is…I need to wait until December 25 to see what all of this is about. I sure hope it was worth it!

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© Copyrighted material. This article cannot be copied, reproduced or redistributed without the express written consent of the author. As with every blog on this website, this blog does not reflect the opinion of DeafDC.com.

Today, the FSSA (Faculty, Staff, Students, and Alumni) published a letter (to see the full letter, please scroll down to the bottom of this Blog) written by FSSA Spokespersons LaToya Plummer and Delia Lozano-Martinez on the official FSSA website calling for the Gallaudet Board of Trustees (BOT) to withdraw its recognition of a particular coalition called the Coalition of Students of Colors (COSC).

On November 13, 2006, the Gallaudet BOT announced their plans for selecting Gallaudet’s Interim President. The plan listed groups that would be represented in the search process, including the COSC. Prior to both dates, the FSSA continually cited exclusion and racism as two main reasons behind the Gallaudet protest. The CSOC has been given credit for igniting the Gallaudet protests, in fact their eloquent letter was the first one posted on the official FSSA website.

In this letter, the FSSA may be asking the Gallaudet Board of Trustees to allow their organization to determine which minorities in the Gallaudet community have a voice and which do not. In particular, the FSSA says about the COSC:

“This is the same group of people that fail to recognize that a coalition means the inclusion of all minority organizations.”

If that is the definition of a “coalition” then why does the FSSA refuse to recognize the COSC?

They go on to explain:

“Given that, we are worried that the establishment of the Coalition of Students of Color will only create division within the community of people of color.”

During the Gallaudet protest, not everybody was an FSSA supporter. However, everyone understood that one of FSSA’s many intentions was to unite as many students as possible (although the ultimate outcome was the formation of two distinct camps: those who supported Dr. Jane Fernandes and those who did not).

The letter concludes:

“We have not reached a collective understanding, and we ask that out of respect, the trustees halt on the recognition of the Coalition of Students of Color until we have the opportunity to resolve some of the issues that are preventing us from working together in a way that would do social justice proud.”

Unfortunately, this letter may defy the concept of social justice by trying to “halt recognition” of a minority group, especially one that represents racial and ethnic minorities.

“This is also a group of people who are pushing for the formation of a coalition without first resolving inter-group conflicts. They are the same group of people who, in part because they harbor anger at those who ignored us students of color at the very beginning of the presidential search process, are not willing to work with the Student Body Government or the Faculty, Student, Staff, and Alumni coalition.”

Doesn’t this sound like the conflict between the FSSA and the BOT prior to the termination of Dr. Jane Fernandes? The FSSA was rife with inter-group conflicts. Did the FSSA resolve its inter-group conflict with the COSC before forming its organization?

Both groups, the FSSA (which has not yet been recognized) and the CSOC may have merit in their argument to become recognized organizations. Should minority student organizations be placed under the umbrella of the FSSA? If so, should organizations representing faculty, staff, graudate students, alumni, etc. also be placed under the FSSA?

How do students of color feel about the FSSA issuing a public statement that minority groups must go through an additional layer, the FSSA, in order to be represented on the Presidential Search Process? Is this racism?

Granted, in the end of the ensuing discussion on this Blog, we may conclude that this may have been a poorly written and not well-thought out letter by “college students”. The FSSA must learn what the Gallaudet Administration did during the protests, every letter and public message will be carefully scrutinized. The FSSA needs to be more careful with their public messages if they truly seek unity for gallaudet.

Update: The FSSA letter on the CSOC has been removed from the official FSSA website. Here is the original letter:

MEMORANDUM

TO: GALLAUDET UNIVERSITY BOARD OF TRUSTEES
SUBJECT: OPEN LETTER OF CONCERN ON THE RECOGNITION OF COALITION OF STUDENTS OF COLOR
DATE: TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 2006

To the Honorable Members of the Board of Trustees;

On Saturday, November 11, the Faculty, students, staff, alumni, and parents met with some members of the Board in regards to the Interim Presidential Search. These meetings were the first step towards recognizing the importance of community input. This ensures that representatives from different groups of the community are included in the Interim President Search Advisory Committee and breeds optimism that shared governance will soon be a model used within the Gallaudet community.

There is, however, an issue of concern we must present before this coming deadline in submitting names for the IPSAC. These past six months, we, the people of color, have fought to get our voices heard. The unofficial establishment of Faculty, Students, Staff and Alumni has brought forth a place of recognition and respect of and for others outside of minority groups. This unofficial organization has provided a safe haven where, through mistakes, we have learned that teamwork is the essential ingredient for the successful implementation of the principles of social justice at Gallaudet. Working together with the same group of people who initially ignored us and finding that people do learn from their mistakes has instilled in our hearts, the hope of a better Gallaudet.

Gallaudet University will improve from this point on through continued open dialogue and giving ourselves permission to confront each other on issues that must be resolved. Most importantly, and perhaps our biggest challenge: we must push ourselves to engage in such dialogue and confrontation with various groups outside of our own communities and strive to work together as one community. Given that, we are worried that the establishment of the Coalition of Students of Color will only create division within the community of people of color.

As students, working with other groups of faculty, staff, alumni, and community agencies, we have been and continue to fight for social justice. We envision a place where each of our “voices” carry equal power. And as students, we recognize the Student Body Government as our representative organization. However, rather than working with the Student Body Government, certain individuals want to create a separate governing body. This is the same group of people that fail to recognize that a coalition means the inclusion of all minority organizations. This is also a group of people who are pushing for the formation of a coalition without first resolving inter-group conflicts. They are the same group of people who, in part because they harbor anger at those who ignored us students of color at the very beginning of the presidential search process, are not willing to work with the Student Body Government or the Faculty, Student, Staff, and Alumni coalition.

We want you to be aware that—as can be expected in times of crisis, certain issues are still unresolved. One such instance is the formation of the Coalition of the Students of Color. We have not reached a collective understanding, and we ask that out of respect, the trustees halt on the recognition of the Coalition of Students of Color until we have the opportunity to resolve some of the issues that are preventing us from working together in a way that would do social justice proud.

Respectfully yours,

La Toya Plummer Delia Lozano-Martinez

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Lately, on Saturday nights, I have been at home watching NBC’s Dateline show “To Catch a Predator.”

I don’t know about you, but it is almost funny to see how dumb these men can be. Even though I am not home often on a Satuday night, I have still seen the set up many many times. Men from all walks of life have been caught doing something like this.

Recently, Dateline has been looking for men who log on line and talk to girls who say they are 13 years-old. Sometimes they will just talk with the girls, but as soon as it turns sexual the decoy sets up a time and place for these men to meet the girl. As soon as the men arrive at the house, the girl will call them in, tell them that they’re going to change into their suits, and that they can hang out in the hot tub. Then the host of the show, Chris Hansen will come out and speak to the men to find out more details.

These men will say that they were not planning on having sex with the minor. Yet some admit to bringing a condom with them. Once the men leave the house, they are arrested. And that is when the craziest excuses come out. One guy ended up admitting that he had robbed a store with his brother. Another had a shotgun in his truck and he claimed that he was a sniper for the Marines. One guy actually dared asked to work for Dateline to go undercover to catch sexual predators.

It is insane. So many of these men have seen the show, and yet they still do it. Some of these men are actually highly respected individuals in their communities (teachers, doctors, lawyers).

In Texas it is a federal offense to solicit a minor over the Internet. An Assistant District Attorney had spoken with one of the decoys on line and he even sent pornographic pictures to the decoy then made plans to meet with the decoy. However, he never showed up. The local police had obtained an arrest warrant, but they never had the chance to arrest him because he had killed himself.

The law in Texas that makes it a federal offense to solicit a minor over the Internet means they are cracking down on predators. They are not going to let anyone get away with it. I think the law is necessary because the sexual predators are crossing a line. So many of these kids could be their own kids, and yet they still do it.

It’s amazing what kind of excuses these men come up with when they are trying to get out of it. And more often than not, they will admit they have seen the show. Some admit that they did think about not showing up yet they still did it. I shudder to think what would’ve actually happened if it wasn’t a decoy. If it was an actual 13 year-old girl.

However, it’s not just the men, it’s the teenagers too. They are trying to act older than they are and they’re the ones who invite these men over. Where does the line end? Teenagers should stop trying to grow up so fast and realize, life is good when you’re a kid with little or no responsibility.

I hope Dateline continues this show. It opens our eyes to what really goes on out there. It shows us that people are not always who they seem.

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I hated Big River. Well, no, I didn’t, not really. I saw it at Ford’s Theatre, with Chris Corrigan as Huck Finn. It was entertaining enough. I clapped enthusiastically along with everyone else, but as soon as I left the theatre, I couldn’t stop thinking.

How much was it really the product of a Deaf theatre company? How much was it really the work of Deaf artists? Or, okay, if given Big River’s Deaf genealogy, how much of it pandered to hearing audiences and abandoned Deaf audiences?

For one thing, it’s a musical. This means audience players who sat on the sides of the house could see the TV screen where someone would prompt the Deaf players so their signing was in time with the music.

Chris and I took advantage of Ford’s Theater’s awesome handheld captioning, on the advice of another theatregoer who said there were gibberish words accompanied by gibberish signs (how the signmasters decided to sign “Royal Nonesuch,” I’d still like to know). Good thing we did, because apart from the brilliant Deaf talent on the stage, we could barely comprehend the hearing actors, months of sign preparation notwithstanding.

Too bad — my sister later said Tom Sawyer’s singing voice would melt gold.

There is also a scene, much acclaimed by Time Magazine, during the song “Waiting for the Light to Shine,” there’s a moment where all falls — auditory-wise, anyway — silent. The actors continue to sign as if the music were still playing. The contrast is quite striking… for those who were listening. For Deaf audiences whose experience is primarily visual, the effect is neglible.

There were, indeed, a few rare moments of genius. For example, Pap’s character was played by two actors who shared the signing responsibility (although only one was responsible for the voice).

Still, the effect of hearing expectations of Deaf theatre production are too apparent. I once aspired to a career in theatre arts. Though I could still be a light designer or a playwright, I quickly dropped the idea of acting — I was disillusioned by job prospects. I would always be limited to being cast as “the deaf girl” (a la Sho Stern’s “deaf Megan” role in the cable TV show “Weeds”) or have to participate in deaf plays where hearing standards and expectations were still present (like “Big River”). I would never, in my estimation, truly be able to focus solely on being a thespian.

On June 26, 1996, renowned black playwright August Wilson stood in front of the Theatre Communications Group and vilified the industry for sabotaging Black theatre by lack of funding and representation.

The need to alter our relationship to the society and to alter the shared expectations of ourselves as a racial group I find of greater urgency… I believe that race matters — that is the largest, most identifiable and most important part of our personality. It is the largest part of our personality. It is the largest category of identification because it is the one that most influences your perception of yourself, and it is the one to which others in the world of men most respond.

In our plays, invariably, we provide voice interpreters. In many productions even, voice interpreters are also actors. Access for our hearing patrons (and I do not use the word “patron” lightly) is paramount, it seems, even at the disadvantage of the deaf audience member.

A recent co-production of Gallaudet’s Theatre Arts Department and Amaryllis’ ASL/spoken English rendition of one of my favorite Shakespeare plays, “Much Ado About Nothing,” was one of the most successful adaptations. It takes talent and serious creative muscle to transfer the double-entendres of Bard language to ASL.

However, the weaknesses in that production came from, once again, the need for a Deaf play to be “hearing-accessible.” Never mind that in any hearing play a Deaf audience member attends, the interpreters are relegated to the side of the stage; in a Deaf production, the interpreters for hearing patrons often interfere directly with the play itself.

In “Much Ado,” scenes in which only one or two characters should have been present were problematic — instead we watched three or four actors on stage. A sense of intimacy or secrecy was lost.

One character, Father Francis, was unintelligible, due to his inability to sign. Not his fault - not every person is able to acquire fluidity in sign language over the course of a lifetime, much less a matter of months. Ostensibly, the actor’s value was in his singing voice (for a Deaf actor, that is).

Are these moments of weakness in the name of equal access a bad thing? Not neccessarily. For example, it is these plays, and only these plays, that I can attend with my hearing family and have an almost-equal theater experience.

But like August Wilson says, “Theatre is part art history in terms of its craft and dramaturgy, but it is part of social history in terms of how it is financed and governed.”

While I don’t wish to assert that Deaf theatre abandon all attempts at creating an experience that can be enjoyed by all, I do wish to see more productions that are recognitions of ourselves and our roles in society. One place to start, I think, is to investigate how our Deaf artists can create a truly Deaf experience, one that does not have to make concessions for the hearing person.

Well, lo and behold, I find out that Ethan Sinnott’s directorial debut, his adaptation of Tennessee William’s “Streetcar Named Desire” is not voiced. It’s open-captioned.

Now, not only can hearing audiences (and deaf audiences not proficient in ASL) participate, the deaf actors can truly project. A deaf actor can monologue without paying attention to a hearing actor’s voice timing (or vice versa). Actors will have been chosen for their ability, not their voice. In this production, which opened on Thursday night to a sold-out audience, concern about a hearing person’s theatre experience is replaced by concern for a production that doesn’t compromise the Deaf thespian’s craft.

Sinnott’s director’s note reads, in part:

In adapting A Streetcar Named Desire, I addressed the aural symbolic undercurrents in the play set in the context of a hearing world and accessible only to hearing audiences. What this means is that Deaf audiences who have seen previous Deaf adaptations of the same play saw diluted, watered-down versions. Instead of the multidimensional experience, they were served straightforward, linear interpretations with the technical trappings of standardized Deaf theatre, such as, for example, the use of full-frontal light washes to illuminate Deaf actors all but killing the nuanced sensuality Tennessee Williams sought to capture.

I truly hope this vein of adaptation (or dramaturgy when Deaf-written plays are produced) is a trend-setter.

Wilson also said, “To mount an all-black production of Death of a Saleman or any other play conceived for white actors as an investigation of the human condition through the specifics of white culture is to deny us our own humanity, our own history, and the need to make our own investigations from the cultural ground on which we stand as black Americans.”

Simply change out “white” for hearing, and “black” for deaf, and hopefully you see why I think about our so-called Deaf theatre the way I do.

(Picture courtesy of Ethan Sinnott)

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