OK, first of all I’m having a LOT more fun vlogging than I thought. I did not expect to already have a couple of them up at this point, once I had done my first one. But I guess I’m like a kid with a new toy. Anyway, I have a longer one being processed through google video so while I wait for that one to finish, I want to address a topic that’s been knocking about in my head for a while.

That’s the issue of translating (or subtitling) one’s vlogs. Now, relax, I’m not calling for an across the board mandate by any means. I’m just examining the issues.

First off, a couple of clarifications, I suppose. Technically, because ASL is not English, one is not captioning or transcribing such a vlog. Captioning and transcribing are simply different modes for the same language, converting from spoken to written. So spoken English is captioned into written English in real time (as it is spoken), and spoken English may be transcribed into a written document (that can be read at any time separately later on).

In contrast, subtitling is when one spoken language is rendered into a different written language (as it is spoken), a translation is a transformation from one language to the other (that can be read separately later on). So a foreign film is subtitled from the spoken French into written English, or One Hundred Years of Solitude is translated into English from the original Spanish.

As I see it, there are four possible audiences for an ASL video clip. ASL speakers, deaf non-signers, deaf-blind, and hearing people. A basic consideration, of course, is “Who is your audience?” Obviously only the latter three audiences would be in need of some type of subtitling or transcription. And in many cases, hearing people don’t care about ASL clips, unless your topic is of direct interest, for example, options that are available to the hearing parents of deaf children. Amy has excellent examples of vlogs of widespread interest to all camps, especially “The Greatest Irony” series.

Non-signing, presumably oral, deaf are another kettle of fish entirely. The subtext of the manualism-oralism argument that started over 100 years ago permeates quite a bit here, and can be confusing to people unaware of this history. Clearly, there’s a lot of friction between Deaf and oral deaf in some cases, with each side putting the other down. And oral deaf are a very visible and painful reminder of all the oralism efforts that have traumatized many, many deaf people in so many ways. But remember there’s also a wide variety of oral deaf, including solitaires, of which I am one, who are unaware of all this.

Let me relate this from my perspective: last year when I started reading up on deaf history, culture, issues (sparked by Gallaudet’s protests), I ran into a number of ASL clips and quite naturally I was very interested in what they might have to say. But of course not all of them are subtitled or translated. When I asked what the clips said, I got responses ranging from “Never mind,” to “Learn ASL and then come back.” Now remember, I’m oral deaf (not by choice, either), and I’ve grown up all my life asking hearing people “What did you say?” and getting “Never mind.” But you know, hearing people. You expect them to be ignorant at best and idiots at worst. I never for a moment would have thought that deaf people would do the same thing to me. That was very much of a shocker. I mean, I expected that deaf people would understand, especially as they also lobby for captioning in TV broadcasts, etc. I also expected deaf people to understand how it feels to have hearing people say “Oh never mind.”

Now, deaf-blind, whether or not they know sign language, are not going to be able to see the video clips at all. They are entirely dependent on some kind of written form of the clip. My understanding is that a transcript is more useful, since subtitles can’t always be pulled out of a clip by their assistive software.

OK, now from the vlogger’s perspective. First of all subtitling directly onto a vlog is a lot of work (I’ve only just started playing with the software, and it knocks me straight back to my couch, with a mojito, fanning myself in exhaustion ) even if you know the technical issues it’s just plain slow work matching the subtitles up to the signing.

Transcripts present their own set of problems. Not all signers are confident in their English skills and therefore some are hesitant to provide a translation. When someone finally told me that, I pretty much dropped all my objections at that point. I hadn’t even thought of that before. Also, translation is a skill. It’s not a mechanical process to convert from one to the other. Sometimes even a relatively accurate translation just “loses” something in translation. And sometimes the message is not that “important” — it’s just chatting, back and forth, give and take, yakkety yak.

But let me throw in yet a few more considerations! A certain pool of translated and/or subtitled vlogs can help draw in anyone who’s interested in learning sign language. Yes, there are ASL classes, but you know, based on my experience, I think there’s a lot more learning that can go on here than in a class room. I’d probably still be signing “See Dick Run” if I was sitting in a classroom . Every additional person, deaf or hearing, who learns ASL is a gain for all of us.

A decent pool of subtitled/translated vlogs also puts us on the moral high ground while we’re demanding that all media be captioned in some way. Not that we should really need to do this, but it really tosses the ball back in their court.

One thing that occurred to me when I first encountered all this, is that while I really couldn’t care less if hearies feel “excluded” from ASL vlogs, there’s one interesting aspect if ASL vlogs are readily accessible: it makes it clear as day, as their computer monitor, that ASL is a rich language, with a lot of ideas and dynamism going on. It’s not “handwaving for dummies.” If that could percolate through “common knowledge” among hearies, that might have an overall benefit to greater social acceptance of ASL. If you increase the number of hearing parents of deaf children who can access ASL vlogs, they may make different choices for their children, and be inspired to learn some themselves. I mean, maybe that’s Pollyanna, but it couldn’t hurt.

Also, for those who lack confidence in their English, it’s great practice. I’d encourage everyone to translate a couple of their vlogs. Don’t post them if you don’t want to, but go through the exercise. It’s good practice.

One final suggestion I do have. If there’s an oral deaf knocking on your door about untranslated vlogs, I’d hold off the “Never mind,” and shoot them a reply about the practical difficulties. Make it a form letter if you like.

OK, this is the kind of crazy thing that pops into my head when falling asleep. Just a little humor — enjoy! Props to the vlogs that inspired this one

The Carnival can be found here.

I’ve certainly come a long way since the last Blogging Against Disability day (”Sound out of Stone” and “Perceptions.” Note that the latter holds some assumptions about the “Deaf community” that I no longer hold, although it’s interesting to see me argue for what is Bi-Bi from a position of pretty much utter ignorance of Deaf Culture and ASL.). Having a specific day for blogging against disablism seems odd, inasmuch as this entire blog is in part about blogging against disablism.

Disablism directed against the deaf takes on very specific characteristics, so much so that we have our own name for it: Audism. I’m not thrilled with the construction of this neologism but it’s a very useful word.

Discrimination against the deaf is very widespread, pervasive, and has additional dimensions, because it also attacks deaf language and deaf culture. Deaf people aren’t “just” discriminated against (although we certainly get plenty of that: we’re “lazy” and “stupid” and “illiterate.” We “can’t drive” and “we’re helpless” in society. We’re “insular” and “insolent” and the list just goes on and on).

We’re also remade, rebuilt, forced to be hearing. Don’t believe me? Language acquisition is a vital part of cognitive development and function and most experts agree that exposure to language must occur by the age of three or so. So what of the deaf child? This is where sign language should come in. The child will pick this up as quickly, naturally and effortlessly as the hearing child does spoken language. With that as a solid base, then the child can go on to learn other languages (reading and writing at least, if possible speech and so on).

But instead, children are deprived of sign language, forced to take speech therapy and delay language acquisition until much later. Surgery (cochlear implants) take place earlier and earlier, and most CI programs require a subsequent Audio Visual Therapy program, which specifically forbids any signing. CI is not a miracle technology. It does NOT restore hearing. It is pretty much a high-end (and destructive to the ear) hearing aid that can reach a bit further than hearing aids. It is particularly suited for adults who have lost their hearing, but is increasingly given to younger and younger children.

Oh, but doesn’t this help the children? Doesn’t it let them “function” in the hearing world?

Look, first of all the notion that “deaf people don’t function in the hearing world” needs to be dispelled once and for all. Most of us are in the “hearing world” most of the time. We hold jobs, many if not all our relatives are hearing. We have hearing parents, hearing children, hearing friends. We are certainly not isolated from it, most of us are in it every single day.

But what of the oral deaf person? He doesn’t know signing, and relies on lipreading and hearing aids (or, increasingly, CI) to understand what is going on around him. Now imagine being forced to go through school where you can’t quite follow the teachers, you can’t quite catch the discussions. Half the time you’re yanked out of class for speech therapy so you’re fall further behind while not in class.

Let me tell you from personal experience, as a strictly oral deaf: it doesn’t work. It never does. You are isolated because you can never quite make out everything that’s going on. Read my last post that I linked to above. No matter how good you are, as a deaf person, you will never be hearing enough. Its impossible. You are not in the culture, you are forever relegated to the margins, trying to follow things, trying to fit in. Do you know that I’ve never really enjoyed a good conversation except from time to time with a single other individual? Add one more person in, and instantly my focus changes away from the content of the conversation to the mechanics of the conversation. I was stubborn though. I really tried. And now that I’m over 40 I’m finally learning sign language. And for the first time, the possibilities of enjoying conversation is expanding. It’s a strange, heady feeling, I don’t know if it’s at all possible to convey to you hearies.

So what are hearing people doing to children by denying them sign language, denying them access to other deaf children and adults (as friends and role models)?

Don’t get me wrong…the oral abilities are useful. But they are not a replacement for communication and socialization with one’s peers, friends, and family. To a deaf person, the ability to understand a hearing person, whether through lipreading and speech or through writing, or through an interpreter, is just a tool, a mechanism for getting through the day.

But access to sign language expands the possibilities of every deaf person. It does not restrict them, it does not take away from anything oral. It does contribute to satisfaction, confidence, social skills.

One thing that I think is vital to improving this state of affairs is to get more deaf teachers and more deaf school administraters into the picture. If hearing people can work with deaf children for 20 years without ever learning sign language beyond perhaps the basics, then we really can’t count on relief from this direction.

Transcript:
Read more…

You know, on a theoretical level, I “understand” audism. I can see how the social structures have hearing down as the default in so many ways, above and beyond just the obvious ones. I can see how the state of being deaf is medicalized and so on.

But on an emotional level, when I see examples of it, it just flabbergasts me. I mean, come on, we’re talking thinking, capable, rational people, right?

So…how do you explain this comment I found on Amazon:

The book is just filled with so much information regarding the deaf-world.

I have been working with the deaf for over 20 years and had no idea the nuonces of the ASL language.

I recently started talking sign language over again just to catch up.

You will begin to really understand how little the hearing understand about the deaf world.

How? How?? HOW??!!! How on god’s green earth do you “work with” deaf people for over 20 years and little or no knowledge of sign language??

Words just fail me. This is what we have educating our children? Oh. My. God.

(Apropos of which, Der Sankt, I note yet another hearie who can’t spell or write her way out of a paper bag…)

OK, before I completely lose my nerve, here’s a vlog…after Amy’s kind comments on some other ones, I thought I might as well post one here. Please be patient, I’ve only been learning ASL since January…it’s a lot of fun, though! Pardon the mistakes, but if I keep revising till I’m happy with it, I’ll be on version 100 and still wanting to redo it…!

Edit: here’s a transcript. I hope to caption this as well, so I have an idea of the technical issues

Transcript
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I should note, I am writing these sorts of articles hopefully for the benefit of parents of deaf children trying to decide what’s best for their children, by describing my experiences and thoughts. This isn’t a paean to self-pity; rather this is something I’m beginning to recognize now that I’ve been learning ASL for the past few months.

As a profoundly deaf person who was educated orally and who never learned any form of signing until well into adulthood, I’d like to point out how oralism limited my world.

What’s that you say? Limited? But look…good grades, university education, masters degree….A job, a mortgage and so on.

Sure. I got all those things. You know how I do it? I have to plan and control every aspect of my interactions with the hearing world, every day. I never just chat with people, I set up the circumstances to do so. At work? I know the few people I can contact if I need to call in sick. I go to my boss to discuss issues, and always, always follow up with a summary in email afterwards. If there’s a group meeting, I talk with people beforehand so I know what the issues are. The list is just endless.

Company for dinner? Just one or two people. Go out somewhere? Pick out the restaurants with good lighting and as little background noise as possible. Movies? Rent them on DVD later on. Meet with people face to face whenever possible, never on the phone. In fact, I delay many things that I should get done because it involves the phone. I’ve spent considerable time getting people to use texting or IM (I’m just a little older than the generation that seems to use all the computer communications naturally).

I’m very good at orchestrating all of this. I have decades of experience with all this. But I’m tired of it. And as I learn more ASL I begin to realize what it is I do in the hearing world. I realize why I like being online so much — I can participate in newsgroups, mailing lists, everything, exactly as other people do (getting trickier now that YouTube and other visual/audio material are becoming ever present).

I think temperamentally I would have been rather a bookworm and an introvert even if I had been hearing. I think that’s also part of why I did this for so long. I think an extrovert, a truly gregarious person, a person not that interested in reading, would have rebelled far sooner than I did.

Now, do understand that I am not saying the oralism was useless. Far from it, I’ve made considerable use of this. But it is limiting. I can’t relax and enjoy it. It is very structured, very focused, very demanding of all my energies and time. It is probably difficult for anyone who can hear to realize this, unless they spend time with deaf people. I am generally absolutely exhausted especially if I wind up spending the entire day in substantial interaction with people.

On the show Through Deaf Eyes, one woman mentioned that she doesn’t talk anymore, because it’s a two way street. People who hear you talk assume you can hear them talk. I never thought of it like that but she’s absolutely right. No one assumes I’m deaf. Instead, they assume I have mental problems or I’m an idiot when I can’t understand them. In this way, oralism is a double edged sword.

But as I learn…I’m starting to see how I’ve never been able to spontaneously join in on conversations. For the first time, I’m asking to have things repeated, not because I didn’t hear it (a problem I can never fix) but because the word is new to me (one that I can). I realize the amount of interaction and socializing that I’ve never had. I feel like my horizons are expanding. I spent an entire weekend yakking away to people and I wasn’t exhausted from the effort!

I just don’t understand this fear that learning ASL is supposed to limit me?

We’ve had various discussions here on DeafRead about the issues raised by anonymous comments, especially those that that do not contribute to the discussion but are disruptive, harrassing, and antagonistic. This is an issue of concern at large, as can be seen by this excellent post by Theresa Nielsen Hayden over at her blog Making Light which inspired the above declaration.

In my opinion, one of the characteristics of a good blog is an engaging commentary. And I’ve noticed that doesn’t just happen. It happens when the owner of the blog monitors and maintains the comment thread. They can do so in different ways, holding all comments for explicit approval, or going back and removing inappropriate posts. Depending on the blogging software used, mixed approaches are possible as well. For example, I don’t mind anonymity, so long as the comments are appropriate, so I allow that.

Of course some people will disagree with a blog owner’s decisions. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing avoidable about it either — remember, you can’t please all the people all the time. But since the owner owns that blog, it’s their prerogative. People who feel strongly about saying what they want can start their own blog and run it how they wish.

Anyway, I loved this image when I spotted it, so I thought I would share it with you all. I do think we have a better handle overall on this problem, since we have less tolerance for this kind of antisocial behavior…

Over the last couple of months I have found myself objecting to the term “oralist,” at least as applied to myself. In addition, the more I contemplate the terms “oral failure” and “oral success,” the angrier I get. Why?

Let’s take “oralist” first. I can see that it’s used in a fairly general term: someone who was taught using oral methods. It’s also used to refer to people who support the use of such methods, particularly exclusively, to deaf children. The little bit I’ve read about the Milan Convention describe the two “camps” as “oralists” and “manualists.”

Well, I may have been educated orally. But it was something done to me, not a choice I made for myself, nor even one I support across the board. If I could change anything about how I was educated, I would add in sign language and access to other signing children. I do not countenance the isolation, and I do not countenance the continuation of oral therapy on a child for whom it is not beneficial.

As for “oral failure” and “oral success,” where to even begin? This truly maddens me, because these terms pass the responsibility of the outcome ON THE CHILD! No. No. No, and a thousand times NO. It is not the child’s “fault” (another loaded concept here) if speech therapy isn’t right for that child; it isn’t the child’s “success” if he or she happens to do well with speech therapy. It is strictly chance: it is the outcome of the particular combination of how a child perceives auditory input and the actual skill of the child’s teacher, neither of which the child controls.

Let me repeat this: The failure is on the part of the therapist or teacher. These people are evading their own responsibility in the breakdown of a child’s education when it turns out that speech therapy IS INAPPROPRIATE but they continue to force the child to try to comply with it.

I mean, this makes me furious. No one here is an “oral failure” (I don’t even want to use this term at all)! Many of us have had the educational system fail us. This is a crucial distinction. Some of you seem to be shrugging and saying “So what? These are just words.” Well, words and descriptions are extremely important. These particular terms are shifting responsibility away from the perpetuators to the victims and that’s simply unacceptable.

Those of us orally educated, we survived it. We all learned something from it, although what I learned and what Aidan learned were in some ways entirely different and in other ways very similar…

So. I was orally educated, and that’s it.

I found this question very interesting. Now, I am what would be considered an “oral success.” However, like John, I am very careful, and actually have been for years: even not being aware of deaf culture, etc, I knew my story wasn’t typical and should not be used to support oralism across the board.

Looking back, I have two observations to make. I was used a number of times as a child by adults to give false hope to parents of deaf children. I would be asked to speak at PTA meetings, for example, about how I did in school. I was a typical self-centered kid, and never thought about the implications, and was happy to show off. Sigh. Believe me at the time I had no idea about what was going on. I refused to do this later on, after graduating from high school.

The second observation I will make, though, is one that I’ve been realizing over the last few months. Sure, I did fine with oralism. Academically. In structured environments. But when I consider how lonely I was — never really having more than one friend at a time, and constantly bluffing my way through social situations… I think isolating children like that is borderline abuse. I have made that case several times in various posts over the last couple of months.

No, it was not physical abuse, not for me (some of you have stories to make my hair stand on end, and it makes me doubly angry in retrospect how I was used to probably make some other children’s lives worse: “I saw a deaf child just like you do wonderfully — there’s no reason YOU can’t!!!”) but not all abuse is physical.

Some abuse is emotional. I simply do not understand the mindset of educators and audiologists and so on who have had plenty of opportunity to learn about what the real issues are, who continue to promote this kind of isolation for deaf children.

At the Silent Weekend, where I was asked to share my story, the issue certainly came up although it came up indirectly. One of the questions I was asked was, did I think if I had been taught sign language as a child, would I have learned to speak like I did. I said “Absolutely,” with no hesitation at all. But the belief that sign language hampers the chance to learn to speak is so very ingrained. I could see the doubt in many people’s faces as I tried to explain. I said that I knew many kids whose parents spoke Spanish at home, but their English was native perfect. Kids just soak up languages. If they can do it, they will. I said the real problem is that the parents of deaf children are rarely native signers. They can NOT teach their children sign language. But the language acquisition has to start right away. If it doesn’t, then the child will have trouble with ALL languages later.

I hope that helped. Maybe these 100 people are a start at countering the ones I performed for so many years ago in the other direction, unknowingly. Of course they were all there to learn sign language so they’re not the ones pursuing a pipe dream for their child. However, perhaps they can discourage some other such hearing parent, having listened to what I had to say first hand. Who knows? I hope so.

References:
Is Oralism Child Abuse? Original article (by Mishka Zena)
and, in no particular order:
“Is Oralism A Child Abuse?’ By Mishka Zena (by Aidan Mack)
MZ’s comment on “Child Abused” (by John Egbert)
Response to MZ on Child Abuse/Oralism (by Here I Am)
Response to “Is Oralism A Child Abuse?” (by Ginny)
My Response To Comments About “Is Oralism Child Abuse?” (by ME-DEAF-YES)