I was 28. I was in a support group for battered women, I think around the fifth of ten weeks, when the moderator brought in a speaker to discuss the issue of
"self-permission." In spite of being the only Deaf person there and naturally without interpreters, I managed to grasp the main idea of his discourse. What he said was that many women have relied on getting other
people's permission – that of family, peers, significant others, children, neighbors – rather than given themselves permission to be people in THEIR own right. To be in a career of HER choice, not what's necessary or
what others push her into. To wear clothes of HER preference, not of society's. To have friends of HER choice, not friends picked by her jealous significant other. To be non-traditional if SHE wants. To determine what
happens to HER body, not meekly accept what the doctor or family dictate. To take night courses for HER pleasure and personal development, instead of staying at home waiting for her drunken husband to arrive from his
night out with the boys. You get the drift.
I was aching to share my comments about his presentation. When it was my turn what happened then was totally unexpected.
The dam broke. All the anger I had in me -
conscious and subconscious - thunderously poured out of me. I railed at the injustice and barriers I faced growing up. People continually saying "never mind" whenever I asked for clarification of spoken but unseen
conversations flying around my head. A high school career guidance counsellor telling me that since I'm Deaf, he could not even imagine what I would be able to do so he couldn't help me - that was my first and last
appointment with him, by the way. A typing teacher telling me that because I type slower than the 35 wpm required, and because I'm Deaf, to not bother to try for a clerical job. Boys and men helping themselves to my
body to "see how Deaf girls do it". Schoolmates laughing at my fumbling attempts to follow the conversations and my less-than-perfect speech. People who talked to me and then left quickly when I informed them that I'm
Deaf and I need to "see" what they are saying. I bitched about relationships that I was in - getting worse every time and me not knowing why.
My education, which I KNOW is my right, continually thwarted
by lack of interpreters. My desire to be "all I can be" but often being slapped down and told to "accept my lot". Mainly I railed about my parents' decision to keep me in public schools, and my delayed development of
self-identity, self-worth, self-esteem, and self-confidence - the whole package. During the outpouring, the light came on in my head and I saw clearly how all these subliminal messages add up to one big point
continually shoved down my throat - YOU AIN'T WORTH INCLUDING.
My tirade lasted a full 15 minutes. When I became aware of my surroundings, I was met with stunned silence. You see, for the past five weeks I was the
class clown making everybody laugh. Yep. While I was laughing on the outside, I was crying inside. For the VERY FIRST TIME, I became totally honest and showed my displeasure. I was totally spent but
strangely so much lighter. That was something I had NEVER experienced before in my life.
Nine o'clock finally came. We all bid everybody good night and left the building. I walked towards my car. It
dawned on me that the rain glistening on my car was so clear, so beautiful. I looked at trees nearby and saw the raindrops dripping off onto the pavement. I looked up to the sky and marveled at its beautiful midnight
blue color. I admired the soft glare of the streetlights on the wet pavement. I got into my car and reveled in its comforting, familiar smells of oil, gas and my scent imbibed in the upholstery. I drove up to an
ice-cream shack and ordered a vanilla soft-ice cream cone dipped in chocolate. I savored the taste like never before. Then I noted a new taste added on - my tears. That was when I realized that for the first time I
could ever remember in my life, the colors, the taste, my emotions were heightened and real. It overwhelmed me. I realized that for too long everything had a grayish hue to it. I had been too suppressed to take in the
beauty of life in its entirety.
Finally I knew that I WAS ALIVE, TRULY ALIVE, and FREE TO BE ME. I knew then that I would be OK.
