Hello

For years, I was never proud of my hearing loss. It actually greatly embarrassed me. I did everything I could to hide it. Nodded and smiled, regardless of whether I heard the speaker or not. Sat near the front of the classroom. Worked alone so I wouldn't have to struggle to hear others. Studied for hours each night to catch up from what I missed in class and during lectures. Even when I received hearing aids, I wouldn't wear them consistently and when I did, they didn't help much. They just made the noise louder, not clearer. I functioned as best as I could in the hearing world, but something inside me was missing. Something didn't fit; I didn't fit.

 

When I entered college, things began to change. As an American Sign Language (ASL) interpreting major, I was learning about the richness of Deaf culture and that ASL was more than simply a manual representation of English. Something about this language and culture felt like it belonged to me somehow; it filled that part of me that was missing. But I still didn't accept it. I pushed it away, telling myself that I wasn't part of the Deaf world. I couldn't be. I was born into the hearing world, raised in the hearing world, and people expected me to be hearing. But no matter how hard I tried, I still didn't fit.

 

It wasn't until I met my wife that I truly started to explore my Deaf identity. She was the one who encouraged me to request interpreters for the plays and musicals I attended. I felt like a fraud: an ASL interpreter requesting an ASL interpreter. I should be able to hear. Shame bubbled inside me as I sat in the theatre, watching the interpreters. But it was at those interpreted shows where I could truly participate 100% of the time. I could follow the plot without reading about it beforehand. I genuinely laughed at the humor. Accents didn't make me want to leave in tears. Music no longer sounded like noise; it had meaning. I didn't leave exhausted and frustrated. I finally began to enjoy theatre again. 

 

My journey into Deaf culture and the lack of resources for parents of Deaf and Hard of Hearing (DHH) children is what sparked the beginning of ASL Oasis. I wanted to create a place where DHH children and their families could explore their Deaf identities. A safe place to ask questions without judgement. An inclusive place to learn sign language. A supportive place to vent and access resources. An accessible place to connect to others like them. I wanted to use my story to help families, to show that Deafness isn't something to be ashamed of, but rather something to celebrate. That hearing aids and other amplification devices are great as tools, but they don't replace visual language access, ASL. With a fully accessible language, DHH children are capable of so much. Not only DHH youth, but also others with communication differences. Children who struggle producing speech or who identify as non-verbal can use ASL, in conjunction with other tools, to communicate with those around them. Communication is beautiful, regardless of modality.

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ASL Oasis is here to connect you to any resources and services you may need. I am your advocate and ally, here to join you on your journey wherever it may take you. It doesn't matter if you've been on this journey for years or if you are brand new to it, I am here for it all. Ask all the questions you want. We will work together to make this new journey an oasis that's perfect for you.