This article originally appeared at deafprofessional.net.

Imagine working in a glamorous city like Manhattan, deciding where advertisements for major corporations will be placed in magazines like Newsweek and Parenting. That’s exactly what Tom Coons, 29, does for Initiative Media, an agency with the Interpublic Group of Companies.

“I work as a junior print negotiator, which is similar to being a media buyer. I work with magazines and newspapers, where I negotiate the cost and positioning of print media purchased by major corporations,” he explains. Carefully choosing various publications to place advertisements in for his clients, Coons also has a variety of other duties that accompany his job. “I have to prepare and provide various reports, such as print posting, flowcharts, rate documents and summaries, and so on. I also make the scheduling, buying and budgeting for my clients.” The clients he works with include major corporations: Bayer, Ross, Burlington Coat Factory, Levitra, Computer Associates, among others.

Coons, who lives in Pleasantville, N.Y., with Ellie, his wife of 15 months, attended the Central Institute for the Deaf in St. Louis before graduating from a public high school in 1995. He then headed for the National Technical Institute for the Deaf (NTID) in Rochester, where he earned an associate’s degree in accounting. He then earned a bachelor’s degree in applied arts and science with concentrations in business, accounting and statistics in 2003 from the Rochester Institute of Technology.

“I got this job through the employment center at NTID. My interviews were conducted with the use of interpreters, and then two weeks later I got the fellowship,” Coons says. “I started out my fellowship by undergoing training and working full-time on a two-year contract with Interpublic. Initiative Media found me to be a valuable employee for the agency and offered me a full time job in the middle of my fellowship program.”

Having worked in this particular position for six months now, Coons was far from a novice when he first began working for the company. “Before I started to work for this advertising company, I had very little experience in the advertisement field,” he remembers. “But for the past 15 months, with training and on-the-job experience, I’ve learned a lot more about how advertisement agencies work, especially within the media field. It’s a fascinating field. A lot of commitment is necessary for this job, and I’m able to offer that commitment.”

Coons has devised unique communication strategies and solutions for his job, where he is the only deaf employee. “The biggest challenge of my job is that I work with a variety of people in the field, including people at magazines like Newsweek, Parenting, Time and Forbes,” he says. “With some co-workers, there is no problem with communication. However, there are those whom I struggle to understand, so I with them I use voice recognition to communicate.” Coons uses programs such as Dragon Naturally Speaking, where people can speak to him by using a microphone and the text appears on his computer screen. “It’s a really innovative method of communicating with people. Plus, I use instant messaging, which is quick, effective and convenient.”

“I also have to learn how to deal with constant emails which must be replied to as quickly as possible,” Coons adds. “People in my position have to be ready for a lot of communication between clients and publishers.”

Dealing with such big names doesn’t daunt Coons. “This job is a demanding job, and it takes a lot of commitment to get projects done as soon as possible. You must be willing to work long hours and be able to handle many assignments on any given day.”

“Success, to me, means that I work hard and do not give up on any of my upcoming challenges,” he says. “My biggest success is that I am capable of working with hearing people in my job. And that’s what drives me to keep doing what I do.”

Copyrighted material. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

This article originally appeared at deafprofessional.net.

With today’s booming real estate market, it’s difficult to find a realtor who can communicate clearly with you and is knowledgeable about your needs, and who you can explicitly trust. Enter Deaf realtors. They’re able to sign to you, they know the community inside and out, and they’re familiar with all the aspects of the real estate market.

Mum’s the Word: Confidentiality
Confidentiality is always an issue for any professional who works within the Deaf community, especially if that professional is also deaf. But that doesn’t seem to be a problem for realtors like Barbara Willigan or Tom Anderson.

“When I meet with clients for our first face-to-face meeting, I always explain that Maryland law requires that no matter what, I am not allowed to discuss their information with anyone. Even if this law didn’t exist, I’d still keep their information absolutely confidential,” says Willigan, an Ellicott City, Md., real estate agent who is Deaf. “I explain that any information shared with anyone else will not be from me; it will come from them.”

“I tell my clients that they don’t have to share their financial history from A to Z; I only want to know if they’ve been pre-approved for a loan and the basics of their information,” agrees Anderson, a licensed real estate broker. ““I do things right and in the long run, I’m able to sleep well at night. That’s how I’ve been in business for 14 years.”

Anderson, 35, owns a RE/MAX franchise in the Minneapolis-St. Paul area. He is believed to be one of the first, if not only, deaf licensed real estate brokers, in the nation. Supervising nine agents, including one who is deaf, Anderson has seen firsthand the effects of the “housing bubble.” “It’s difficult sometimes, because clients will come to us thinking that because they’ve been pre-approved by some company at a high price, they can buy a bigger house than is really wise,” he says. “And unfortunately, this often happens with deaf clients who have not been able to communicate easily with mortgage companies or realtors. This is where I feel I make the biggest impact. I’m able to communicate directly with them in American Sign Language and answer their questions immediately.”

Making Sure Clients Know Every Detail
Communication is another essential factor of being in the real estate business. “So many times I work with clients, both deaf and hearing, who come to me thinking they can buy anything because they’ve been pre-approved for a high loan amount,” Anderson says. “This is largely due to Internet mortgage companies offering fast, pre-approved loans. But I remind them that they also need to consider the costs of day-to-day living, and to look carefully at hidden costs. Although that isn’t really my job to advise them on financial risks, I do have a conscience. I also recognize that many clients may never had this discussed with them in the past, so I try to cover this kind of information with each client.”

Willigan uses various solutions to alleviate her need of communication with hearing clients. “Although I work mostly with deaf clients, I do have hearing clients. I leave my phone number, and they’re able to leave voice mail for me. I then either listen to the messages if I’m able to understand the client, or use relay to retrieve my messages,” she says. “My new pager/cell phone is wonderful; it allows me to call hearing people, unless they have a strong accent or there are other noises. But really, most communication issues are easily resolved in today’s technological age.”

This ease of communication is also an asset in being comprehensive with information. “So often I have deaf clients coming to me and saying that they never had this kind of communication accessibility to housing information,” Willigan says. “For instance, I had a client once come to me and tell me how an agent acted as a dual agent for both the client and seller. The client didn’t quite understand the role of the dual agent, and I explained that. It was disappointing to learn that the agent never once took time out to explain the ins and outs of buying a house. That should never happen, regardless of if you’re hearing or deaf.”

Staying Ahead of the Game
Anderson fell into real estate by chance. “I was studying to be a chiropractor, and took a course that was cancelled so I decided to find another course that would fit within my schedule. That class happened to be an introductory real estate course.” Anderson’s teacher encouraged him to become a realtor. Upon earning his license, he immediately began making sales; three months later, he quit his job as a cook. “The people at the restaurant said I’d be back soon,” he recalls. “14 years later, I’m still not back.”

He then decided to pursue his broker license, taking courses to pass the test. “Since I can hear somewhat well and speak well, I didn’t ask for an interpreter for the courses,” Anderson said. Licensed in 1991 as a sales agent, then a broker in 2000, he may also be the first deaf person to own a real estate franchise. His biggest client is a Mexico-based developer building on 530 acres of land. “We’ve already opened the first phase, selling 111 single family homes and 90 condos. We’re halfway sold out, and will have a total of 200 lots for sale. It’s really exciting to be able to partner with this client like this.”

Willigan’s experience is slightly different. As a child, her father had her sell flowers from the garden. She has also worked as an insurance salesperson, sold Tupperware, and was the recruitment coordinator at Gallaudet University. “Sales have always been in my blood,” she grins. Willigan, 61, had an interpreter for her five-week realtor course, paid for by Long and Foster Realty. She then decided to sign on with Coldwell Banker, where her daughter also works as a realtor.

Realtors generally face fierce competition for sales. “You have to be aggressive, definitely,” says Willigan. “It takes between 12 and 18 months to establish yourself and recruit clients. Upon signing with Coldwell Banker, I had to take a six-week fast-start training program. I started working in December, where sales were a bit slow. So I focused on developing a solid client base for the next few months, with sales here and there. In June alone, I had over $1 million in settlements, for four sales.”

“One of the most common complaints that any realtor or broker has is when a house in a neighborhood is sold faster than your client’s house,” says Anderson. “Your client then may come to you and complain that you must be a lousy agent if you haven’t sold his house yet. The real issue is whether the client is selling his house at a realistic price, if the house is in good shape or not, and many other factors. I’ve been fortunate, though, because most of my clients understand the factors that go into selling a house, so this isn’t really a problem. It’s a matter of making sure clients are aware of all the details involved in selling or buying a home.”

Deaf realtors also face the stereotype that they make millions of dollars off sales. As a result, they’re often perceived as “being rich” in the community. “What clients don’t realize is that even if we make a great commission off a sale, we still have to pay for little things such as advertising, lockbox fees, licenses, and so on. We also have to share that commission with our company, other agents involved, and so on,” says Willigan. “So it really evens out to a regular income, not a luxurious income.”

The Bottom Line
Still, selling houses brings great satisfaction to both Anderson and Willigan. “It’s wonderful being able to share what I know about the market with my clients,” Anderson says. “It’s great because I’m really familiar with the Twin Cities area and can easily tell clients what neighborhoods best fit their needs. It doesn’t matter whether you’re deaf or hearing; the house-buying process is a major step. I like making the selling or buying process a bit less daunting for people.”

“The real reason I sell houses isn’t for the money,” Willigan adds. “It’s for one simple reason: the satisfaction I get from it. There’s nothing like seeing people who have struggled to get a home for so long finally get their own place. That’s a great feeling.”

Copyrighted material. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

This article originally appeared at i711.com.

Richard “Dick” Sipek, 82, died on July 17. I was stunned to learn of his death only two hours after he passed. Isn’t that how it usually is? We know that someone’s time will come, but we never think it’ll actually happen.

There’s a particular reason I was truly saddened by his passing. You see, if not for Dick, I probably wouldn’t be here, either.

Dick, whose name sign was an “S” (or a fist) on the side of the chin, was a professional baseball player for the Cincinnati Reds during World War II. Although he only played a short time, he still left his mark on the sport. He was lured into the sport as a student at the Illinois School for the Deaf (ISD) by a houseparent, Luther “Dummy” Taylor, another Deaf man who had also played professional baseball.

But that’s not the reason I owe my life, literally, to Dick.

Dick and his wife, Betty, had three Deaf children: Janice, Ron, and Nancy. They made their home in a modest rambler in Quincy, Ill. One day, when Ron was a high school student at ISD, he heard about a deaf blonde girl who lived a couple of miles away. Ron decided to pay that girl a visit. Little did my mother know that her life would be forever changed when Ron visited her that day.

They communicated using gestures and written notes, since Mom couldn’t sign. Shortly after, Mom decided to go to ISD that fall as a junior. It was there that her life finally made sense; here was a community she fell in love with. 1969 was also the year that ISD won the conference championship in football, defeating local powerhouses. Mom had a marvelous time that year, meeting people and cheering her new school on. My stepfather was part of this championship team, so I grew up listening to him and Ron tell stories about those days.

Mom graduated after only a year at ISD, but didn’t go to Gallaudet until a year later. At Gallaudet, Mom met my father. 30 years later, I write this.

So I like to say that because Dick borne Ron, and because of Ron, Mom went on to Gallaudet and met my father. In a roundabout way, that’s how I credit the Sipeks for my existence. Sure, we can argue that fate could have allowed me to exist regardless of the circumstances. But I like to think otherwise.

I grew up often visiting the Sipeks’ house, especially since Dick’s deaf granddaughter was a classmate. Even today, when I go to Quincy to visit my grandmother, I get together with Ron or his family to chat at the local pizzeria. Back then, I never really knew the significance of Dick’s accomplishments. He was just my friend’s grandfather who seemed to know everybody in town, deaf or hearing.

A few years ago, my boyfriend, Randy – a baseball fanatic who grew up admiring Dick and reading about him in Deaf Heritage – and I decided to do a book on Dick. Dick’s eyes would glow whenever he relived his baseball career, and regaled us with story after story. To his family, his stories were repetitive (understandably so), but to visitors like me, they were glorious; they were stories of another time, of a time where things were drastically different for Deaf people.

The last time Randy and I saw Dick was two years ago. It was during this visit that Dick pulled out his old baseball glove, showed us memorabilia, and lent us many articles/photographs to copy for our book. We posed for a picture, and you can see in this picture Dick’s gentle, proud spirit.

One time I asked Dick how he felt about Curtis Pride, another professional baseball player today, being a non-signer. “It hurts my feelings,” he said sadly. “What’s wrong with sign language? Why can’t he use both spoken English and ASL?” Dick, by the way, could speak very well and was fluent in both languages.

When talking about Jackie Robinson, he said in awe, “Boy, could that guy run! He was the fastest I ever saw, running around the bases!”

And Dummy Hoy? “He was really short,” Sipek remembered. “I also remember he would sway greatly as he walked, bumping against me even in the daytime. It was odd.”

Dick also never charged for giving autographs. When he learned that a store in Chicago was selling his autograph without permission, he was outraged. “Why should I charge for something like that? That’s not right! They need to stop that!”

He led a quiet, memorable life in an unassuming manner. When I go to Quincy in August, I’ll be visiting the Sipek house again. It’ll be bittersweet. But I’ll remember Dick not only for his baseball experiences and contributions to the Deaf community, but for the lives he touched, like mine.

Copyrighted material. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

This article originally appeared at i711.

I’ve become intrigued lately by the concept of ‘phantom interpreting’- where an interpreter works an event without knowing if deaf people are in attendance or not, signing into space for all to see and few to understand.

There’s a local organization that promotes equality and accessibility for all people, so they have interpreters at its events. The catch? Deaf people usually don’t attend the events. In fact, when I asked one of the interpreters if s/he had ever seen Deaf people at these events, the answer was no, not any that were known of, and that the interpreters usually sign without knowing if anyone deaf is in the audience.

This got me wondering. Is it really a good idea to provide interpreters at events even if nobody has requested such services? On one hand, there’s accessibility and the convenience of having interpreters readily available. It’s also a way to bring visibility and awareness about ASL, regardless of how well or poorly it is signed.

On the other hand, hiring interpreters with no deaf consumers in attendance may be a waste of money and resources. Plus, interpreters who work these events are able to ‘claim’ interpreting experience on their resumes, even if no deaf consumers were in attendance. To make things worse, some of those interpreters are terribly unqualified or “volunteer signers.”

Intrigued by this question and trying to decide my position, I polled about 50 people – deaf, hearing, and interpreters – both online and in person. Although this group is hardly an accurate representation of the diverse deaf and interpreting communities, the division in opinion didn’t surprise me.

Many respondents felt that it would be better to not have those interpreters working on stage unless they knew that a deaf person was in the audience or if services had been requested in advance. Respondents also said it would be more acceptable to have phantom interpreters if it was a large event such as a state fair or political gathering where deaf people are almost guaranteed to attend. But for smaller, lesser-attended events, it would be better for the deaf person to take some responsibility in requesting interpreters with reasonable advance notice (3-7 days in advance).

Other respondents strongly favored having interpreters available at all events, no ifs, ands or buts. The reasons: accessibility and visibility. “If a wheelchair ramp is provided, why shouldn’t an interpreter be provided?” I’ve included selected responses at the end of this column so that you can formulate your own views on this issue. But as many of us know, this attempt at ‘accessibility’ can backfire, and I don’t think visibility will solve anything. I had an experience that seems, unfortunately, to be a common occurrence.

I once went to an accounting appointment about four years ago only to be surprised by the presence of an interpreter. I was initially pleased, but as soon as the uncertified interpreter began signing, I realized she was grossly unqualified.

I had the painful task of telling the CPA that I greatly appreciated the provision, but that the “interpreter” wasn’t really one. I had to also tactfully mention that it was illegal for that uncertified interpreter to be working (in Illinois, freelance interpreters are not allowed to work without certification). It turns out my CPA knew this signer from church. I also later found out that the interpreter consistently worked jobs like this, even though she had never gone through formal training and had learned sign language at church.

I was put in a very uncomfortable position: I truly appreciated the CPA’s notion and willingness to do whatever was necessary to facilitate communication, especially given that it was a one-person company with little money to spare, but I couldn’t allow my finances to be jeopardized by an unqualified interpreter. The CPA, of course, was mortified. I don’t think if she had seen an interpreter at church or a state fair, she would have been any more knowledgeable about qualified and certified interpreters.

So, I’m not quite sure the visibility of ASL/interpreting is a justifiable reason for phantom interpreting. However, I do think it’s important for organizations and events to offer interpreters – and to always budget for that. If nobody requests interpreters, then this money can be used in other areas (if permissible), or put aside for the following year; the budget planning phase is where organizers need to remember to include interpreter costs. More important, though, is for them to publicize this availability. The sad truth is that if we don’t know that interpreters are offered, we usually won’t ask.

I’m still torn on this issue, because there’s no way this is a black and white issue. I do think I have the responsibility of requesting interpreters, regardless of the hassle of doing so. I also think organizations and events have the responsibility of genuinely reaching out to the Deaf community and informing us of the availability and accessibility of such services or events. Yet, I’m realistic about logistics and how things actually work. The simple truth is that we gotta work together. Accessibility is never a one-way street.

__________________________________________________
[As mentioned in the article, Ms. Suggs polled 50 people on the topic of Phantom Interpreters. Here are some selected responses – edited for length – from many of the respondents.]

Late-deafened person: Money should not be an issue is this because in my way of thinking: we need to refocus just on the issue of access… I think we always need to keep the eye on the future and encourage those who are trying to do the right thing. If we attend something and see it is a bit off, then we have to do the next step: take it to the proper authorities who can make the changes, not just gripe among ourselves. We must be willing to show others where they are missing it instead of just painting all attempts as bad and of no use to the community. Sitting in the audience could be a hearing parent struggling with the idea of raising a deaf child. Seeing that access could make a positive impact that their child will be able to take full advantage of situations.
I see it the same way as an access ramp. They are put in and the people who paid the money have no way of knowing if it will ever be used, BUT the access is there and maybe it is not taken advantage of that time but it is certainly logged in their brains for future use, so just knowing that interpreters are there is a good thing. I don’t see the harm – it is getting hearing people use to seeing access, which in turn could spell favorably in their own lives… Maybe a doctor attends and sees that interpreter. The message is access – I don’t think we need to shoot those who try and do the right thing. The more it is seen in a positive light – the more others will acknowledge and model it in their own areas of accessibility.

Interpreter (uncertified, recent graduate of an interpreter preparation program): Guess it comes down to ethics really. Is using ASL when there are no consumers…unethical, or selfish even? My take as an organizer (not necessarily an interpreter) has been that it’s important to always advertise your accessibility…That advertisement happens mostly because so many things are not readily accessible in our culture, for many different groups of people. Knowing that language holds a different light than say, a wheelchair accessible ramp or gender-neutral bathrooms, I have been thinking a lot about this.

I tend to believe that the main goal is…to have a readily accessible space and to advertise that. What better way than to have an interpreter there, using the language to advertise to the audience that they can bring deaf folks…decide at last minute to come (no need to call ahead to set up interpreter) or not come, walk in late and still have access to the information without distraction? And I wonder too if it’s just not a good educational tool to make the general audience aware that accessibility is an issue in our culture and we can be an accessible society…here is what it looks like in one small way.

As an organizer (pre-interpreter days) I would often forget about accessibility issues in regards to where to have a meeting or conference, interpreters, etc. Then I would be at another event, see an interpreter and (ping) oh yeah, need to book an interpreter too. Were there deaf people at that event watching that interpreter? I have no idea, but it certainly benefited me, and those who may have been now able to access my upcoming event because I saw that interpreter and remembered to book one. So I wonder how many times that happens, what kind of social pressure is involved between organizations (normalizing it) to have accessible events and I wonder how that could possibly be bad.

Interpreter (certified): Tough question on the “phantom” interpreting assignments – I tend to turn down those jobs because I prefer to preserve my energy/resources for jobs that make for real accessibility, rather than a statement.

An example came this spring when someone who was involved in organizing a [summit] asked me about interpreting the keynote speaker. I asked if there was any Deaf person who had made the request…answer was no, but they wanted to show that they were committed to providing access. I suggested that next year, they put out in their advertising that will provide interpreters upon request…but that it didn’t make sense for them on their limited budget to do it if it wasn’t requested because it frankly is too limited a resource to use just for show. I think it means that it is really incumbent on Deaf people to be assertive in making requests for events that they want to go to, and that means that they might not have the luxury of deciding on the day of something to just go…which is not fair. And yet, neither is having interpreters just up their waving their arms for the sake of appearances….

Deaf person: I do have mixed feelings about those “phantom” interpreters. _* I like [the] idea of having an interpreter “stand-by” and be called upon if a request is made. It would really depend on the nature of the event. If a concert, then that interpreter must be prepared for the material. If a play, then they must be prepared, period. Of course, some theaters would rather know in advance. And some grants require the performances to be accessible and often ask how many minorities or disabled people see the plays._* What’s ironic is that deafness itself is INVISIBLE! The hearing audience would wonder how many deaf people are in the audience, unless someone signs or wears a conspicuous hearing aid or cochlear implant. In the case of the state legislature, which has two regular interpreters, normally level 3 or 4, think of the constant reminder that there might be lotsa deaf people out there.

If there is an issue about deaf schools or deaf programs, then the constant presence of the interpreters is like having a passive lobbyist! For years and years, legislatures would give lotsa money to the blind school and little for the deaf school. But lately it is going the other way around! Because of the constant presence of phantom interpreters? We’ll never know for sure, but it could be.

*My opinion is that leave them there for political reasons…We cannot afford to lose all the things we got via years of advocating, especially from the Americans with Disabilities Act.

Deaf person: I think you cannot have your cake and eat it too. Sure, we can be on the bandwagon preaching total access anytime anywhere for anyone. But life ain’t pretty. We have to be practical sometimes. There’s only so much money and interpreters to go around… So, my suggestions include:

*Advance (not too far in advance) notification of interpreting needs by Deaf people or attendees
*Projection of deaf participation (from prior experience or checking with community agencies/services for input)…

Deaf person: The idea of having an interpreter regardless is great because this is like free publicity for us who do attend events not popular in the deaf community. But… the danger here is the level of skills the interpreter has. I attended a political rally some years ago and happened to be the only deaf person there…the interpreter they had was horrendous! I mean, to the point I think some of her signs were made up. My friend who was with me thought it was wonderful…her response was, “Don’t you ever show any gratitude? They are trying!”… So in my honest opinion…there should be a request for interpreters. It’s a fact of life for us since we are a smaller minority and don’t attend each and every event. If other deaf people say why should [we] do all the work [in requesting interpreters]…my response is the same as my friend…”Don’t you ever show any gratitude? At least they are willing to PAY for it!”

Deaf Person: [Many non-certified interpreters] use these situations to get paid for practicing signing in front of an audience. Something that magicians are always advised not to do…practicing new magic in front of an audience. I’ve gone to some events where the interpreter is sitting there for all hearing people and when the interpreter realizes that the only deaf person just walked in the room. Their expression is not always surprise, but sometimes it’s “Oh, [expletive]. A deaf person is here. I have to do real work this time.”

Deaf person/Interpreter Coordinator: I’ve worked for a good number of years as an interpreter coordinator so I’ve gotten a bit of a glimpse into the process of how organizations make arrangements for interpreters. So, from that point of view, I’m strongly in favor of always planning for an interpreter whether or not deaf people show up. Here’s why:

1) Budget : Many organizations work from a predetermined budget. “Iffy” expenses can be very difficult to plan for. Oftentimes when they create a new budget for the upcoming year, they look at the previous year’s budget and if there’s a large amount of unspent money in one area, there’s a very strong temptation to cut it and move it elsewhere. The person planning the budget is not likely to know or remember whether any deaf people showed up. All they’re seeing at the moment is the numbers. Spending money on interpreters, somewhat paradoxically, helps guarantee that the organization will continue to budget for interpreters.

2) Establishing a workable process : One of the biggest barriers in getting interpreters set up is that most people have no idea how to do it, and setting up a new process can be quite overwhelming. A lot of logistics are involved, more than most realize…It’s a lot to tackle, and establishing a request-based system on top of that just adds even more layers of complication. Considering that most people don’t plan their personal schedules even one month in advance, it’s unreasonable to expect that the process of getting deaf people to put in requests will be all neat and tidy…From the organizational process perspective, it’s much more effective to include the interpreting arrangements as a routine part of every event.

3) Managing expectations : if an event isn’t interpreted, deaf people generally won’t expect it to be. Even if the organization advertises that “interpreters are available upon request”…I just don’t want to deal with the hassle, and if I see that interpreters are already set for an event, that goes a long way in putting me at ease.

4) The “hidden” consumers : At my church, where I coordinate interpreters, at least two people use the interpreters who wouldn’t ask for interpreters otherwise. One is a woman who is gradually losing her hearing, and she’s been learning sign language. She sits in a location that is kinda-sorta close to the front…Sometimes she doesn’t have a clear view of the interpreter, but for whatever reason, her mindset is such that she is not yet at the point to make a fully public “display” of her need for an interpreter…even though she freely admits her hearing loss and how helpful the interpreter is…[That is an] example of people who benefit from interpreters but who would never put in requests…I think having ASL interpreting at more events would help more people become comfortable with using it as a communication tool…

5) Increased training opportunities for ITP students : …Now, I know this would not be a good thing if, as you speculated, an unqualified interpreter was there. But I would think those ITP programs do try to screen out the bad locations…

Also one more comment regarding inexperienced interpreters who get undeserved pay and attention… I think those are in the minority, and as organizations become more familiar with using interpreters, they will naturally find better ways to get qualified interpreters (especially if deaf consumers do show up and complain)…

I can see how it would be easy for many to reach the conclusion that abolishing phantom interpreting is the solution. Why not get at the real root of the problem – the fact that there’s no check on quality? Inexperienced interpreters are passing themselves off as qualified, and organizations either don’t know how or don’t bother to check into an interpreter’s credentials. I bet not many even check to see if the interpreter is certified. This is silly considering that RID certification info for any interpreter is easily accessible via the RID website. Why aren’t we putting more emphasis on asking for certified interpreters?

What if, for example, [an online events directory] started requesting that any interpreted events submitted also include the name of the interpreter(s) and their certification status? That would send a message to the coordinators…that certification is important to our community. And create more of an “embarrassment factor” for uncertified interpreters who take on jobs they’re not qualified for.

Now, I realize that certification is not a guarantee of quality. But it does raise the bar overall. Any profession that requires certification (doctors, nurses, lawyers, accountants, etc.) still has its bad apples, but certification helps ensure that overall quality is good. That is, if people expect and ask for it. To me, that’s the real root of the problem. Not the fact that some organizations are trying to provide interpreters. That’s a step in the right direction. They just need a bit of help to keep going in the right direction.

Copyrighted material. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author

This article originally appeared at i711.com.

Recently, a friend attempted suicide. She changed her mind in the process, and decided to call local suicide resources to try and get some help. Nine of the ten places hung up immediately when they heard that it was a relay call. The tenth one said, “We don’t provide interpreters,” and hung up before my friend even said a word. Eventually, she found a friend to confide in, but still needs counseling services that are American Sign Language (ASL) accessible.

Another friend had suicidal thoughts several years ago. When I drove him to the hospital at his request, he was sent home after an overnight stay because they didn’t have the appropriate services. The interpreters sent for this assignment all knew my friend through work. My friend was embarrassed and frustrated, and to date, has never gotten the counseling and help he wants.

There are countless Deaf people who want or need counseling services, but are unable to receive them due to different factors. One such factor is the shortage of interpreters due to video relay services and high demand for interpreters. I know a man who has had his appointments rescheduled repeatedly due to the unavailability of interpreters. Another factor is the discomfort of sharing personal information in the presence of interpreters, especially if you know many of the interpreters in your area. It doesn’t matter if interpreters are supposed to keep everything confidential; it’s still uncomfortable, period, especially if you’re sharing information about abuse or molestation.

In so many parts of the country – including major cities – there are very few or no counseling services or mental health services readily available for ASL-using Deaf people. The only alternatives are to look – usually with no luck – for counselors willing to provide interpreters (and who wants to deal with threatening mental health agencies with lawsuits if they don’t provide accommodations?). Then it’s even more difficult to try and find counselors who are familiar enough with Deaf culture and ASL to understand the intricate details of the Deaf community, where everybody knows everybody and nothing stays a secret very long.

What are solutions? There are so few currently available. I personally think our Deaf community is at a crisis point when it comes to mental health services. The National Association of the Deaf has a position paper and fact sheet in regards to mental health, and while these documents are beneficial, they’re not enough. We need to come up with immediate, successful solutions — and fast. This crisis is preventable, and it’s a tragedy to think about how many Deaf people have committed suicide just because services weren’t available or accessible to them.

One possible alternative is to utilize online counseling services. Of course, this isn’t feasible for people who don’t feel comfortable using written English — but there are legit, certified counselors who provide services via e-mail. This has been a wonderful alternative for some people who have a good mastery of the language, and don’t want to worry about whether they know the therapist or the interpreter. The process is quite simple: the client and the therapist e-mail each other on a regular basis or even talk via AIM. It can be a bit slower than face-to-face therapy, but is quite effective for long-term counseling.

Another alternative is something that hasn’t been utilized yet on a widespread basis: the videophone. There are ASL-fluent counselors who could use videophones for counseling sessions when appropriate. Using videophones would remove the obstacle of knowing the interpreters or therapist, and counseling sessions can be done from the comforts of the home and/or office. But the best benefit of this, I think, would be the ability to provide services anywhere. For instance, a person who lives in rural Vermont could access mental health services in, say, Washington, D.C. or even Las Vegas. It’d be cost- effective, time-effective, and a valued service filling a gap.

Meanwhile, until better alternatives are developed, people like my friends will continue wrestling with their emotional and mental needs, and feeling desolate and dismal about recovering from their emotional/mental pain. The Deaf community cannot let this go on anymore. We need to have mental health services immediately available and accessible for Deaf people in ASL with no rescheduling, no delay, and no cultural barriers.

After all, this is a life or death matter.

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This article originally appeared at i711.com.

Last week, I was at a restaurant with a Deaf friend and her adorable baby. As we were chatting, a woman came up to our table and asked which of us was the mother. The stranger then pointed to her ear quizzically, asking if the baby could hear. When my friend nodded politely, the stranger proceeded to play with the baby.

I, with no personal experience of motherhood, asked my friend, “Do hearing people usually do that, ask if your baby can hear?!” She nodded, saying it happened all the time. I was absolutely floored that strangers would ask such a question, and a bit offended. I didn’t quite understand why I felt offended, especially if it’s generally acceptable for Deaf people to ask that very same question. I often ask Deaf people if their babies are Deaf or hearing – so why was I offended by this woman’s curiosity?

After some thought about this matter, I realized that it boils down to culture. When I ask a person whether a child is Deaf or hearing, it’s because it gives me an idea of what the child’s identity may be. (Sidenote: at a recent Deaf culture workshop I presented, the majority of the Deaf attendees agreed that they preferred to know if a person was Deaf or hearing, regardless of age, for a variety of reasons. So this “need to know” doesn’t only apply to babies.) Truth be told, I’ve tried to not do that so much lately because I feel that it doesn’t matter if a person’s baby is Deaf or hearing, American Sign Language should be used. After all, research has proven ASL’s success with hearing babies, so why not sign to the baby regardless of hearing status? Besides, I never use my voice, so I sign all the time, anyway. But I still always have the desire to know whether a child is Deaf or hearing for cultural reasons, so I continue asking Deaf people that.

Back to the question of why it’s more acceptable for a Deaf person to ask another Deaf person about a baby’s hearing: Maybe it’s because both persons come from the same culture with shared experiences, and are often excited to find out that a baby is Deaf. When a hearing stranger who has absolutely no connection to the Deaf community asks if a baby can hear, this is cause for suspicion. Perhaps it’s because we worry that the hearing person is going to express sadness and pity if the baby is Deaf, or relief if the baby is hearing.

In fact, it’s almost funny how many times, when I tell hearing people I have Deaf parents, they get a sad look in their eyes and say, “I’m so sorry. That must have been hard.” Quite the contrary, actually – I had such a trouble-free upbringing, communication-wise. It’s certainly annoying to see this bias, but it’s even more annoying to see people express sadness for hearing babies who have Deaf parents or for Deaf babies with Deaf parents. So maybe that’s where our guarded nature comes from.

As I watched the woman play with my friend’s baby, I wondered how she would have reacted if the baby was Deaf. Would she have said, “Oh, okay,” and walked away without playing with the baby? Or would she have played with the baby either way?

I don’t know. The day hearing people accept that being Deaf isn’t a curse is the day I’ll stop being guarded when a hearing person asks, “Can the baby hear?”

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This introductory article originally appeared at i711.com.

I’ve been part of the Deaf community for 30 years. If I also include my family’s years within the Deaf community, then it’s nearly 250 years of the “Deaf experience” that I’ve been raised with.

However, my family’s experiences are quite diverse. My mother didn’t learn sign language until she was 17, and attended public schools with no support services until she transferred to a deaf school as a junior. My dad attended a deaf school for his entire life, and was raised using American Sign Language. My stepdad attended an oral deaf school until junior high, then transferred to a deaf school where he learned ASL and met my mom. I attended public school for most of my education, other than a year at a deaf school, and have been signing since I was six months old. I also have many other deaf relatives, most who attended deaf schools with some public schooling thrown into the mix.

Each and every one of us has vastly different careers and lives. And of course, there are my hearing relatives who have lived with the Deaf community by way of my parents or extended relatives. Needless to say, I’ve seen quite a bit within the Deaf community, both firsthand and through my family’s eyes.

PL 94-142 was passed on my first birthday. The Americans with Disabilities Act was passed when I was in high school, enforced when I was in college. I remember life before TTYs (we were too poor to own a TTY until I was five years old), before closed captions, before relay services, before e-mail, and before everything else that I use daily today. It never ceases to amaze me to see how much the Deaf community has evolved over the decades – yet has managed to remain so much the same. And this is precisely why I never will tire of writing about my rich culture and community, its nuances and pitfalls, and its amazing traits.

I’ve been writing since I was 12, but it wasn’t until I was 14 when I wrote my first article about being Deaf: “The Day in the Life of a Hearing Impaired [sic] Student.” The article was a humorous, tongue-in-cheek look at what it was like to be a Deaf student at a public high school, and the stereotypes that I had to put up with being in a hearing environment. The most recent article I wrote was about having to put up with the stereotype of being a poor tipper simply because I’m Deaf. See? I told you not much has changed over the years.

For as long as I’ve been writing about the Deaf community, I’ve had the luxury of meeting so many people with so many stories to tell. They’re folks from all walks of life, of all ages, and of all communication choices. Each of us have had shared experiences, whether it be the experience of being discriminated against, celebrating our diversity, being brought together by a common language and culture, or simply being humans.

It is those people and their experiences that I choose to honor through my writings. There’s also another reason I keep on writing about the Deaf community: there are simply too many issues or stories that need to be shared. I hope you will enjoy reading my thoughts and stories as much as I enjoy writing them.

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Okay, so it’s happening again. I have a Sidekick 2, and last month I had to suffer (really!) through a two-week network outage. When I called T-Mobile back then, they said it was a “network issue” and that they had no idea of when it would be back up. I asked for a credit and was given $5.00, which is equivalent to five days worth of service.

On Saturday, I got my bill and saw that the credit hadn’t been applied, so I decided to call on Monday (today) to check on this. Guess what? As I write this, my pager is down, again, this time for more than 24 hours and counting. A fellow Sidekick user called T-Mobile this morning and was told that it was a “global issue.” Even more reason to call T-Mobile, right?

Right. So I called T-Mobile today. I was snootily told that because there was no record of my having called last month, they would be unable to issue me credit for the two-week outage. What? They do admit to having the outage, right? So why can’t they just, in good faith, issue me the credit because they did have the outage? Nope. No record of my having requested it, so no go. “Although we’d be happy to issue you a $5.00 credit for the current outage,” customer service representative Erica said.

As I was talking with Erica, I looked through the envelope that my bill came in, and found a colorful, glossy flyer-type newsletter. On the newsletter, T-Mobile proudly announces, “It’s all because of you! T-Mobile recently won the J.D. Power and Associates award for ‘Highest Ranked Wireless Customer Service Performance.’ Thank you for your support!” Oh, goodness.

We all know how much we rely upon pagers, especially in times of emergencies. God forbid we become stranded in a car accident, natural disaster, or at the airport because a pager that we pay at least $29.99 a month for isn’t working reliably. I live in a rural area of Minnesota, and depend heavily upon this pager to keep in touch with people; the nearest hospital is 12 miles away. Besides I rely on my pager for work – with it, I’m able to receive work e-mail and be an efficient businesswoman.

What if our electricity or television went out for two weeks? I doubt we’d have to call and beg for credit, because the company would probably grant us an apology/explanation letter, along with credit. So why do I have to do this with T-Mobile when they freely admit they’re having a network outage – again?

I decided to ask Adrian, Erica’s supervisor, where I could complain about the service. After some hesitation, and saying that there was only a fax number (funny, I found a mailing address on the T-Mobile website), he gave me the fax number for customer relations at (813) 353-6545. Let’s see if they care or do anything about the letter I faxed in. Maybe other Sidekick users, too, can fax them their frustrations. The fax number, again, is (813) 353-6545. Or if you’d like to mail a letter, the address is at:

T-Mobile Customer Relations
PO Box 37380
Albuquerque, NM 87176-7380

It’s only fair that we receive the quality service that we pay for.

UPDATE!
I got a response from T-Mobile in the form of a letter. What surprised me was the comment, “We would like to remind you that per the T-Mobile terms and conditions we do not guarantee coverage.” Yikes. Then what am I paying for? Hmm.

I personally think this was a snotty response. But hey, they gave everyone a $20 credit for the trouble. I checked my billing statement on T-Mobile’s website, and after originally being told that the “billing feature” was unavailable. But guess what? It appears I have a balance of $10.00 credit – meaning I owe nothing for this month. We’ll see if the final bill says the same. I have zero trust in T-Mobile.

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I recently read Walking with the Devil, by Michael Quinn, a retired Minneapolis Police Department officer. The controversial book isn’t very well written (it reads as if he’s speaking to an audience), but has excellent stories from his career. Quinn basically talks about the Code of Silence, where police often are expected to protect their own, even under oath. I read the book with some wariness, mainly because I worked with the Illinois State Police for three years and met some of the finest, most honest people I’ve ever known in my life. I doubted whether everything he wrote was really true, especially about lying on the stand in uniform under oath.

Last week, however, I lost any doubt I had in the validity of Quinn’s claims.

In December, I was pulled over for speeding. The policewoman said I was going 75 in 55 (I had my cruise control set to 63, which is still speeding but nowhere near the 75 she claims I was going). She refused to give me paper and pen at first, and kept speaking – the same story for many deaf people. After several repeated “me deaf” and “paper/pen” gestures over the course of maybe four minutes, she finally took out a notepad and wrote to me. When I started writing that I had my cruise control set to 63, she grabbed the pen away from me and walked away, not even interested in my comments.

I found some paper and a pen in my jeep, and when she came back, I asked her to please give me her name. She refused initially, and told me I was getting a ticket. After several repeated requests from me, she finally told me her last name and badge number, saying she wasn’t allowed to give me her first name. The communication was made worse by the dark night (it was 4:45 p.m. in December, which in Minnesota means darkness within a few minutes). Never mind that the ticket itself didn’t list where I was to go to court, an address, or anything; it simply said the name of the county. It took me two days to finally find out where I was supposed to go or send my payment in. In fact, the county clerk filed a report about this with the officer’s supervisor when I showed her the ticket at court.

I went to court. The interpreter was fantastic, the judge was kind and fair, and I was prepared. The judge initially sided with the state, until he saw my notes and realized I was telling the truth. I told him I was more than willing to admit I was speeding at 63, but there was no way I could have been going 75. So he reduced my fine to the amount for 63 mph, which is exactly what I wanted to happen.

But here’s what stunned me.

In court, the officer testified that I never once indicated I was deaf, that I could speak/lipread, and that she immediately gave me paper and pen upon finding out I was deaf. I sat there in disbelief. How could she lie like that on the stand? I’ve been Deaf for 30 years, and the first thing I do when a hearing person – especially a uniformed officer – speaks to me is quickly point to my ear and shake my head.

I also can’t speak. At all.

I can’t even remember the last time I used my voice. And let’s not forget that lipreading in the dark is next to impossible, especially with cars’ headlights constantly sweeping over your face as they pass by. Finally, she did not give me paper/pen immediately, and took the pen away from my hand when I tried to respond to her comments. In fact, she didn’t understand my gestures when I mouthed “paper” as I gestured “write.” Besides, if I could speak, why would we need paper and pen?

The officer seemed a bit trapped when I asked while she was on the stand, “How dark was it outside?” She responded, “It was pretty light.” I asked in disbelief, “At 4:45 p.m. in December?” She stammered and said, “Uh, I mean…(looking trapped)” The judge made her respond, and by then it was obvious she was lying. Later, the judge – thankfully – read the notes I saved from the incident and immediately lowered the fine. In fact, his exact words later were: “Why are you here if you admit to speeding? I think this is a waste of time.” He looked at the cop as he said the last part. The officer, off the stand by now, slouched down in her seat.

Why would the officer lie like that? To protect her badge – or rather, to protect herself from a lawsuit. Exactly like Quinn says in his book.

And we wonder why so many people, especially Deaf people, are wary or even afraid of police officers. Talk to Deaf or hard of hearing people, and you’ll hear story after story about police incidents, and how communication became dangerously unavailable, contributing to the trauma or severity of the situation. There are also so many Deaf people who have been shot or mistreated physically by police in various situations. We only need to look to the shootings of Eric Smith, Stephen Helmig, James Levier, and Errol Shaw, to name a few, for examples where miscommunication caused death.

Don’t get me wrong; I’ve trained local and state police officers many, many times and am very conscious of their need to put safety first. I also believe that officers are sincere in wanting to keep communities safe. I also know that there are more good cops than bad, and that not all officers are alike. But when an officer lies on the stand, before God, then any hope or trust I have in a police department is lost.

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This originally appeared in The Tactile Mind Weekly in Trudy’s ON HAND column.

I was a bit nervous. For the first half of my life, I always had my mother, who can speak very well, interpret for me at the doctor’s office. When I became old enough, I wrote for myself and made Mom stay in the waiting room. Even when the Americans with Disabilities Act went into effect, I didn’t feel quite comfortable having an interpreter in the room–I wanted my privacy.

I also didn’t like to ask for an interpreter–the doctor was so good and so sweet that I felt as if asking for an interpreter would be adding undue burden to his office financially. I was afraid he’d suddenly find me to be a loathsome and costly patient, and even refuse to see me. So I always stuck to writing back and forth, even if it took forever.

Over a year ago, I moved to Faribault, a deaf-friendly town. When I called the doctor’s office, they asked me right off the bat if I wanted an interpreter. I hesitated for a few seconds, and then typed, “Yes. That’d be terrific, thanks.” I went to the appointment, wondering if I knew the interpreter and if I’d be bothered by her presence.

The interpreter was indeed someone I knew well, but I didn’t feel embarrassed. For the first time in my life, I was told what my blood pressure numbers were, and what they represented. The nurse was very chatty, asking me how I liked Faribault and making small talk–something she would have never done had we used paper and pen.

Doc came in. The communication was flawless. He joked with me and I joked back. I got to know what Doc’s personality was–something I had never been able to do with other doctors. He explained throughout the examination about why I had to take deep breaths as he listened to my lungs and heart, why my neck hurt when he pressed on it, and so on.

I now realize just how stupid I was all these years for not wanting an interpreter. I also cringe when I think about how much information I missed in the past, especially when I was sick.

Today, for minor appointments (i.e. getting prescriptions refilled), I don’t bother asking for an interpreter. But never again will I go without an interpreter for more serious visits or hospital stays. I’d be an idiot to do that.

*
This will be my last column for The Tactile Mind Weekly. Thank you, dear readers, for allowing me to rant for the past 63 columns.

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