Advocacy

Last night during ASL class, my teacher came up to me with a copy of last Fall's ALDA (Association of Late-Deafened Adults) newsletter. My picture was on the front. I'd forgotten I had written that article for ALDA. She had found a copy of the newsletter at her audiologist's office during an appointment last week. And she was surprised to find one of her students on the front. Though she knew I was late-deafened, we've never talked about my involvement in ALDA or HLAA or advocacy.



In truth, I'm not much involved in ALDA at all. But I know the president. She had been looking for articles on advocating for yourself, in which a deaf/HH person was successfully accommodated in a pubic situation. So I wrote about my success with getting CART for my son's graduation ceremony last spring. Because of CART I was able to read what the speakers said, and I understood the lyrics of songs the choir sang. Without it, I would have understood N-O-T-H-I-N-G. It would have been a night of sitting in a crowded auditorium wishing I could hear while others laughed at jokes and cute comments the new grads made. I had to fight a little to get CART in place, but because I did, I enjoyed my son's graduation night like everyone else around me.



Was it too much to ask? Almost every parent thinks of graduation day while their kids are growing up. I was there to send my son off to school his first day of kindergarten. I went to all the parent-teacher conferences. For years, I helped set up for PTA events, sold tickets, collected Campbell soup labels for a kick-back in school supplies to our district, and I cleaned up after school programs. I scooped ice cream for fundraisers, baked cupcakes for school parties, drove carpools of kids on field trips, made cookies for principals, had my car washed when it didn't need it for the school band or cheer leading squad. I attended meetings with school counselors and teachers to advocate for my son over the years. (He ALSO has a disability.) In return I helped in their classrooms. Of course I wanted to be a part of the graduation ceremony too. I am proud of him. He graduated with a decent GPA, and was accepted to a good university. His accommodations helped him to thrive in school. If I couldn't HEAR my son's name being called to receive his diploma, at the very least I wanted to READ it-- on CART!


When the organizer of the graduation ceremonies balked at providing CART, I told him point-blank, "Deaf people have children and pay school taxes too."


So my article went into the ALDA newsletter and I forgot about it until yesterday when my teacher brought it up to me.


The thing is I wasn't born deaf. When I was a kid I never dreamed I'd be in this position of having to fight and educate people about deafness wherever I went. I am shy. I wasn't prepared. I didn't CHOOSE this life. For years, I wondered, "WHY ME?," which is so typical for late-deafened people. Why me? It wasn't until I met other strong late-deafened advocates who educated me about ADA rights that I began to think differently.


Why NOT me?? Slowly I began to see my deafness in new ways. I have a mission to educate non-deaf people and newly deaf alike. I can help others just like me adjust to their deafness, like those who helped me when I was mired in self-doubt. When I learned my youngest son had a disability I realized my deafness had prepared me to fight for HIS rights as well.


At my last job interview, I was asked what I'm most proud of in terms of life accomplishments. My answer? Because of hearing loss I face challenges every day most people can't imagine. I am proud I've overcome, learned to adapt and that I've lived a relatively comfortable life despite those challenges. I could see they were taken aback by my honest answer. Yet, I wanted to be clear that I was "disabled" AND capable. Afterwards I thought maybe I blew it. But they hired me.

I don't want pity. I want and deserve equal access.


Advocacy at its best is working, living, playing with hearing people while proving you ARE capable!