Monthly Archives: September 2011

The root of my strange fear

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When I was in middle school, I had a strange phobia. Things like video game glitches and computer viruses scared the shit out of me. In fact, I still possess this fear to some extent – the creepypasta story / ARG about the haunted majora’s mask game scared me, for example – but I am not nearly as scared of glitches and computer viruses as I was in middle school.

Ash encounters MissingNo in Pokemon.

What my nightmares consisted of

When I say that I was scared of this type of thing, I mean that I was utterly and completely terrified. For example, when I read about how the ILOVEYOU virus brought major corporations and branches of governments to their knees, I lost sleep for several nights. Wandering around in Glitch City in Pokemon was every bit as scary for me as a survival-horror game would have been for most people.

Recently, I was mulling about this fear – I still am scared of glitches to some extent, but not as bad as in middle school. It’s such a strange fear. So where did it come from?

Then a possible explanation dawned on me: my cochlear implant.

When I was nine years old, I had a machine surgically implanted into my head. I am reliant on a computer to hear. It is really strange to think about how dependent on technology I am to carry out my day-to-day life – most people are born hearing, and it is every bit as normal and natural for them as breathing. For me, hearing the world around me is more like hooking up to The Matrix: I plug into a machine to receive sensory input.

An androgynous, bald white person is hooked up to a machine reminiscent of the one in The Matrix.

Like this.

Nowadays, it is harder for an average citizen to live a life without technology, but when I was in middle school, the Internet wasn’t popular yet. Computers weren’t considered a fad anymore, but they weren’t mainstream yet. It was perfectly possible and acceptable for the majority of people around me to live their lives without directly interfacing with computers on a day-to-day basis.

Not me. In middle school, I would put on a small portable computer every day so that I could function in the hearing world. Almost all of the people closest to me (with the exception of my sister) spoke to me, so my cochlear implant was a valuable tool to navigate my hearing social circle.

So, when I think about my phobia of MissingNo. and computer viruses in the context of my cochlear implant, it makes a lot of sense. If something were to happen to my cochlear implant, it would be a lot harder to communicate with the people who were most important to me. Not impossible, but definitely harder.

Like I said, I’m not as scared of this kind of thing as when I was a kid. There are multiple reasons. I confronted my fears head-on, technology became a normal part of mainstream society, I formed a stronger relationship with nature, and I became more comfortable with wandering around the world without a cochlear implant. Now that I understand that my identity is not dependent upon a computer, things are a lot easier.

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Deaf children and motivation

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Many (90%) of deaf children have Hearing parents. A good portion of these parents have had no exposure to deafness and Deaf culture, so their first thought is to make their child like themselves rather than working with what the child has. A lot of audiologists, cochlear implant corporations, speech pathologists, oralists, and other persons in similar professions promise that, with a lot of training and practice, deaf children will be able to integrate in mainstream Hearing society.

These professionals have noble sentiments, but I feel that a lot of them neglect to mention a very important factor: motivation. This is very simple. As many teachers know, it is nearly impossible to teach a reluctant learner. The same thing goes for teaching deaf children how to speak, how to listen, how to use a cochlear implant, and so forth.

The thing is, for a lot of people who were born deaf, hearing is unnatural on some level. Myself included – I now appreciate hearing as a tool that helps me integrate into society. But, as a child, I simply did not understand why hearing people put so much emphasis on hearing – in my perspective, if everybody in the world signed, there would be no problem with deafness at all. I still believe that, but I have learned that Hearing people stubbornly cling to their notion that hearing is one of the more important senses, so I have learned how to play along with them.1 At the end of the day, though, hearing is an artificial sense that I can turn off or on. When I was younger, this sense of artificiality made it harder to grasp why it was so important to learn how to do things like listen and speak.

When I was a kid, I had the most amazing speech therapist in the entire world. She was extremely kind, patient, and tolerant.2 To give her credit, I did learn how to produce basic sounds, like h, k, e, and so forth. However, once I had learned the basics of speaking, I plateaued. I didn’t see the importance of making my speech more clearly understood. Now my parents and peers at my small private school could understand me; why bother working on my speech even more?

It was only when I entered a large public school that I regained motivation to work on my speech. I discovered that most new people could not understand me, so I had a reason to make my speech more clearly understood. Later on, when I entered an academic competition that included a public speaking category, I had even more motivation to make myself understood to hearing people.3

I do have mixed feelings – if society were truly equal, d/Deaf people wouldn’t need to learn how to make their speech understandable, or even how to speak. Like many Deaf people, I sometimes daydream of a utopia in which everyone can sign. But, at the end of the day, it is a Hearing person’s world. Unfortunately, a lot of us have to make compromises in order to get along in society, whether that means learning how to speak and read lips or using cochlear implants. Another alternative is to live in the Deaf community, which I personally think can be a very fulfilling life.

That being said, if a Hearing parent really wants their child to live in the Hearing world, cochlear implants are not a magic cure for Deaf children. Motivation is much more important. If a Hearing parent truly wants their kid to learn how to speak and listen, I would suggest being more sensitive to the Deaf kid’s perspective. Remember that Deaf children may not necessarily see the importance of hearing. It is up to Hearing people to explain that Hearing people believe that hearing is an important sense.

Another thing that Hearing parents overlook is that there are many answers. Like I said, cochlear implants aren’t a magical cure: if a child decides that a cochlear implant is not something that fits in with his or her self-image, a properly motivated child can learn how to lipread and speak. I personally decided that I can be Deaf and have a cochlear implant, so I got a cochlear implant, but there is no one-size-fits-all solution. One key of encouraging motivation within a child is to look at his or her natural inclinations, then work with them. Like I said, hearing is an unnatural sense for many of us, but some methods of integrating in the Hearing world feel less unnatural than others. What methods those are depend on the individual and how willing he or she is to compromise with Hearing people in order to live a fulfilling life.

I have more to say about the concept of fitting in with the Hearing world, but that’s for another post. I hope that I have made the importance of motivation somewhat clear in this post.

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  1. I honestly do not think that Hearing people can explain exactly why they believe that Hearing is so important using logical arguments. []
  2. In fact, when I came out to her this summer, she took it in stride – more on that later. []
  3. Incidentally, I scored something like 950/1000 in the public speaking section at the national competition. []
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Nonconscious motives and happiness

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Book cover of Strangers To Ourselves by Timothy D. Wilson

Book cover of Strangers To Ourselves by Timothy D. Wilson

I currently am reading a fascinating book, Strangers to Ourselves: Discovering the Adaptive Unconscious by Timothy D. Wilson. Wilson explores various theories of consciousness and explains how the unconscious mind plays a larger role in our lives than we would guess. Furthermore, the unconscious is a more complicated entity than psychoanalysts thought of it in the past; far from being a simple Freudian construct of repressed sexual urges, the unconscious mind is a part of our brains that evolved to perform important functions like learning our native tongue or making snap judgments.

One of the topics that Wilson explores is conscious motives versus nonconscious motives. For instance, we may believe that we are fair-minded individuals when, in fact, we are bigots. His central thesis is that, because our unconscious mind evolved to make snap decisions, it is impossible for us to access our unconscious motives.

What I found especially interesting was that Wilson talks about dual motivations: conscious and unconscious. This has a number of interesting implications for our interpersonal relationships; for example, somebody who has met us only once may be able to better predict our behavior than we ourselves are. We do not know our unconscious motives, so we fabricate a narrative of our motives that puts our actions in a good light.

Furthermore, Wilson talks about bringing our conscious and nonconscious motives into sync. This is important because:

“Some individuals… did have nonconscious and conscious motives that corresponded, and these people showed greater emotional well-being than people whose goals were out of sync.”1

Wilson mostly talks about this in the context of careers. For example, one may believe that she is extraverted and is therefore well-suited to being a teacher when, in reality, she is an introvert who would be much happier working as a librarian. However, when I read this passage, I couldn’t help but think of minorities, especially queer people.

I feel like a lot of queer individuals, myself included, go through a period of confusion as to what his or her true motivations are. Am I really gay? Do I really want to present in a masculine manner, or would I be happier presenting in a more feminine manner? What if this is simply a phase? And so on and so forth. I would call this phase a conflict between unconscious and conscious desires: consciously, we want to fit in with society. Unconsciously, we know what we are not the person that society expected us to be.

Today, bullying is a ‘hot’ topic. The logic is that a higher portion of queer teenagers experience depression and anxiety than their heterosexual peers because of bullying and the intolerance of society. I agree that bullying contributes, but I have to wonder if there is an additional component. You see, I personally was never bullied. Maybe I was the luckiest out queer teenager alive, but I cannot ever recall a time when anybody called me a name or shoved me in the hallway or beat me up or whatever. I did, however, feel misery. All throughout high school, I was extremely depressed. I believe that, if I had been an adult rather than a teenager, I would have been immediately diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder. Instead, people chalked it up to teenage angst.

Looking back, one major reason behind my unhappiness was the fact that my unconscious motives did not sync up with my conscious motives. It was only when I finally discovered all aspects of my queer identity, came out for (hopefully) the final time, and began living an authentic life that I experienced happiness. So, for me, Wilson’s conviction that it is important to sync up the unconscious and conscious self rings true with me.

The question is, where do unconscious motives come from? Genectics play a role, but what interested me was that Wilson talks about a study that shows that experiences that occur during the prelingual period of a child help to shape the unconscious self. It made me wonder: What happens if parents unconsciously pass on their prejudices? For instance, a parent may roughhouse with their son more than with their daughter, therefore setting up the expectation that the daughter is more dainty and feminine than the son. She may then internalize this self-concept, an idea that her parents may continue to reinforce even after the postlingual period. Suppose that she then grows up and discovers that, after a long period of self-examination and angst, she is happier presenting in a more masculine manner.

The thing is, though, a lot of queer people do not realize that their unconscious and nonconscious goals are out of sync for an excruciatingly long time. I can’t help but feel that wasted years could have been used more productively. If society were fairer, would it prevent this? If we did not place expectations upon or children but, rather, let them play with whatever they wanted to play, they may be better able to discover their unconscious desires. Then, when the conscious mind develops better, they could create goals in sync with their conscious mind.

In the end, I think that there are a lot of reasons that a higher percentage of queer teenagers experience emotional distress than their straight peers. It’s important to tease apart every possible reason so that we can work on changing society for the better. In the meantime, psychological theories give us great insight into a queer person’s mind so that we can help them feel better.

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  1. Strangers to Ourselves p. 91, Timothy Wilson []
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On Genres

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After the “Cochlear Implants & Music” conference that I described in my previous post, I spent a considerable amount of time thinking about my relationship to music.

One of the things that I puzzled out whilst writing in my journal afterwards was the reason behind my attraction to some of my favorite genres of music. Namely, I gravitate towards electronica and punk music; I enjoy a wide diversity of styles within each of these genres.

If you look at it song-by-song, my musical taste1 can be seemingly random: I do shit like put Bad Religion in the same playlist as Florence + The Machine, Boards of Canada, and Ayreon. But, if you look at my musical taste from a broader genre-based perspective, commonalities emerge.

One of the primary commonalities between my favorite genres is the fact that they are already distorted and/or artificial-sounding. My hearing is unnatural and distorted; so is this music. Because a lot of my favorite genres of music are supposed to sound unnatural, it doesn’t matter if I am hearing it ‘wrong.’ Furthermore, the artificial soundscape of, say, a really trippy piece of electronica, doesn’t sound as artificial to me as I imagine it would to a Hearing person. Whereas the Hearing person is used to this rich, warm soundscape with millions of nuances, I am used to that sparse soundscape.2 For me, an artificial soundscape is normal.

Don’t get me wrong – I am capable of telling the difference between natural sounds and artificial sounds if I concentrate. (Acoustic vs digital songs, a human voice vs a computer voice, etc) It’s just that they sound so similar to me, so I often can’t distinguish them. To me, comparing natural sounds to artificial sounds is a lot like comparing turquoise to teal. I imagine that, for hearing people, it’s a lot more like the difference between red and green.

So, when I listen to a song that is already distorted and/or artificial-sounding, like Risingson (Otherside Remix) by Massive Attack, it is a lot easier for me to embrace my inner distortion. Weirdly, knowing that Hearing people also hear a distorted song gives me more confidence that I have the ability to evaluate the merits of a song myself.3

Like I said, the conference was really interesting and I still have yet to process many aspects of it. I only hope that I made sense in this post; I would be genuinely interested in learning more about how Hearing people perceive music. Most of what I know about Hearing people comes from conjecture based upon my observation of them, so please feel free to set me straight if needed.

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  1. Note: links to my last.fm []
  2. For a point of reference: Hearing people have thousands of hair cells; I have twenty-four cochlear implant electrodes. []
  3. I’ve had self-confidence issues prevent me from fully enjoying music in the past – navigate to this blog post from July 2010 and ctrl-F ‘unconsciously.’ Read that paragraph for more on this topic. []
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“Embrace your inner distortion”

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A few months ago, I went to a conference about music and cochlear implants. It is still something that I have not completely processed, so I have been putting off writing about it. But fuck that, I’m just gonna tell you guys about it now.

First of all, it was pretty difficult to get there. I had to take a Greyhound bus to the city where it was, and there was a car accident in front of us so we were super-fucking late. Then I had to figure out the small town’s crappy public transportation in order to get to the hotel where the conference was held, and it took me about 10 minutes to figure out where the stop was etc. I waited for the bus a little longer, and it finally came. But then the bus broke down, so we all had to wait for like half an hour for a back-up bus to come. Then it rained, and I didn’t have an umbrella. And I hadn’t had dinner, so I was hungry.

Needless to say, by the time I got there, I was late and grumpy. But then, before I went into the conference room, a deaf guy came over to me and began chatting. He was really nice and put me in a better mood. I told him I’d talk to him later and went into the room.

I hadn’t missed much. Most of it consisted of a bunch of researchers telling Hearing parents how their children would perceive music with cochlear implants. The researchers talked about the joy that cochlear implants would bring into the lives of deaf children, and everyone in the room seemed to take it for granted that everyone loves music. They talked about scheduling ‘listening drills’ for children to ‘learn how to appreciate music’ – which, if you ask me, sounds like a really good way to make kids even more bored with music.

It was all very strange.

Then I noticed these two Hearing parents in front of me. They had a newborn baby, and I watched them out of the corner of my eye. Every now and then, they would glance at their newborn deaf baby with worried expressions and whisper to each other. It was pretty obvious that they thought of her hearing as a ‘problem’ to ‘fix.’

Just as I had made up my mind to leave, the kind deaf man that I had spoken to earlier got onstage. What? Curious, I stayed.

Turns out he was the keynote speaker! His name was Richard Reed, and he was a musician who had gone deaf later in life. Because he was late-deafened and hadn’t learned how to navigate society as a deaf person, I felt some sympathy for him. It was, in other words, easier for me to relate to his desire to get a cochlear implant.

He mostly talked about how much joy his cochlear implant had brought to him, but one segment of the lecture in particular caught my attention: He explained how he “embraced his inner distortion”.

Basically, he had spent his entire life relating to music in one way. He grew accustomed to processing it in this specific manner. But then, when he got his cochlear implant, the sensory input that his brain received was quite different from what he had heard before. It was like seeing the world through a maze of funhouse mirrors. So he had to re-learn how to piece together auditory data into a coherent picture.

I could relate to this point – after my cochlear implant was turned on, my brain had to take this brand-new sensory data and rearrange it into a meaningful picture. As time went on, bits and snatches of sounds slowly became coherent words.

Another thing that Richard discovered was that he couldn’t relate to old familiar songs in the same way that he had in the past. They literally sounded different to him. What’s more, they sounded distorted. That’s where embracing his inner distortion comes in: he had to accept this new soundscape and then find enjoyment in it.

It was incredibly fascinating. In the end, despite everything, I didn’t regret going to the conference. Seeing Richard Reed was more than worth it. It was amazing to hear about somebody else’s experiences with his personal music-appreciation evolution.

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“You have to educate them”

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Image description: two women, one red-headed and one dark-headed, lay on grass. Title says SWITCHED AT BIRTH.

I recently watched a few episodes1 of Switched at Birth, a brand-new show on ABC Family in which one of the main characters, Daphne, is Deaf. Honestly, I don’t like the show because it’s too soap opera-ish for my taste, but one sequence in particular from the second episode resonated with me because it brought up a point that I’ve rarely seen elsewhere: the ignorance of hearing parents when it comes to the reality of Deafness.

In the second episode, Daphne becomes interested in a Hearing boy, Liam. Her friend, Emmett, says it will never work because Liam doesn’t understand Deaf culture, but Daphne decides to give him a fair shake. They go on a date at a music store and it goes smoothly – he is respectful, he asks polite questions, etc. But when they leave the music store, the night takes a turn for the worse when Liam’s friends appear. Upon learning that Daphne is Deaf, they make rude comments and harass Daphne. Liam doesn’t stand up for her, and it escalates to the point that she has to call Emmett to bail her out.

When Daphne gets home, she goes to talk to her mother, Regina. They are close, so I assume that Daphne was seeking comfort. Instead, Regina begins to talk about Daphne’s biological parents, who are Hearing and still struggling to grasp Deaf culture. Regina says something along the lines of, “You will have to educate them.” At that moment, Daphne’s face hardens and she nods. They continue to talk, but Daphne doesn’t bring up the incident. Probably because Daphne has realized that her mother won’t understand the situation as fully as she would like her to.

I could relate to this scenario all too well because it happened to me constantly while I was growing up. If I told my parents about a crappy situation that had happened due to my deafness, my parents would pressure me to “advocate” for myself and “educate others.” In other words, instead of talking about how I felt about the situation, the conversation would turn into a discussion of how I was responsible for helping Hearing people. Their intentions were good, but my parents didn’t understand that it wasn’t something that I wanted to deal with at that moment. I wasn’t able to articulate it as a teenager, but looking back, I felt like my parents placed the priorities of Hearing people above my own emotional well-being. I also felt like I was somehow responsible for bigoted reactions – if only I had educated everyone, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

I don’t think it’s a reflection upon parenting ability – my parents were very good parents and Regina seems to be a good mother at this point in the series. The truth is, no matter how good of a job hearing parents do, there are aspects of a deaf child’s life that they will never be able to understand because they haven’t experienced it firsthand. In most cases, the issue of Deaf culture didn’t even cross their mind until their child entered the scene. I’ve noticed that hearing parents, especially those with more privilege, tend to ascribe good intentions to everyone – surely that person didn’t really mean that discriminatory remark. Nobody is that hateful, so the logical explanation is that they were simply ignorant. And I think that hearing parents who are close to their kids are blinded by their love in addition to their privilege – how could anybody possibly hate their wonderful baby?

I eventually learned that there are incurable bigots in this world. We can “educate” them and “advocate” for ourselves until we are blue in the face and they will never budge. They are content to stay ignorant because they don’t care about the problems of deaf people. Or they simply hate deaf people. Regardless of their motivation, they do not have fundamentally good intentions. But, in the end, what matters is that bigots don’t see me as an individual: they see me as a stand-in for a larger group.

Strangely enough, this realization gave me more freedom. I now know that I don’t have an obligation to make myself emotionally vulnerable to a jerk by “educating” them; I have the option of ignoring them. If some random asswipe mistreats me because I’m deaf, I don’t take it as personally anymore. They don’t hate me, they hate deaf people. Actually, most bigots don’t even hate actual, living deaf people – bigots hate the stereotypical image of deaf people that exists only inside of their heads. It may sound harsh to know that others don’t see you as you but as a stereotype, but like I said, that realization set me free. Since it’s not my fault that some random person is nasty to me, I no longer feel like I’m responsible somehow.

Because the problem lies within the bigot rather within the minority, people who are more willing to educate others are not somehow more virtuous than those who would rather do other things. It is wonderful if one feels compelled to educate others, but assigning virtuousness to one’s willingness to educate is precisely what leads to the pressure that I described earlier. In the end, I am firmly convinced that the deaf individual should be the one who decides if it’s worth educating someone. If they decide it’s not worth it, that’s not a sign of moral weakness – it is a sign of self-preservation.

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  1. I have only watched three episodes – ironically, Netflix didn’t offer subtitles for instant viewing past episode three. []
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Loud As A Whisper: A Review

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Riva with his chorus

I’ve finally began watching Star Trek: The Next Generation. I recently saw a very interesting episode, Loud As A Whisper, about a Deaf diplomat named Riva. (For those who are curious, it is the 31st episode and is in Season, 2 episode 5.) This review/analysis contains spoilers.

From the beginning, Riva comes off as extremely self-assured. He has no problem with being Deaf, saying that he was born Deaf and hopes to die Deaf. I was pleased to see a positive attitude towards Deafness from the start.

As it turns out, he is from a royal family in which Deafness is hereditary. He compares it to other royal families who have hemophilia. I found this interesting, because it implies that being Deaf is more acceptable in Riva’s society than it is in our society because it is associated with royalty. Thinking about it, it was a refreshing change to see a Deaf individual in a position of power for whom Deafness is not detrimental.

Rather than signing, Riva speaks through three individuals, his “chorus,” that he is telepathically linked to. Because Riva had no issue understanding people, I assume that they told him via telepathy what others said.

In some ways, Riva’s relationship to his chorus reflects actual interpreter/client relationships. For example, in one scene, Picard speaks to a member of the chorus. Riva becomes angry and says, “Speak directly to me!” Anybody who has ever had an interpreter will be very familiar with this exact scenario. (Picard then apologizes, promising that it will never happen again – and it doesn’t. This is a very good model for Hearing people, and I’m glad that it was in the episode.)

What struck me, though, was that Riva’s relationship to his chorus is much, much deeper than the average interpreter/client relationship. As it turns out, the three individuals in the choir speak for different aspects of his personality: one is the scholar/philosopher/logician; one is the warrior/libido; one is the mediator that binds together the other two. Riva does not even speak to them and we never learn their names, but they don’t seem to mind. Rather than being mere interpreters, the chorus is an extension of Riva himself.

Such close symbiosis with one’s interpreters contrasts markedly with my own experiences. I grew up talking with my interpreters, and I was always aware that they had lives and worries vastly different from my own. Some were very open about everything going on in their lives, but even the most private interpreters shared some things with me, like what they did on Thanksgiving. So I kind of wonder why Star Trek portrayed such a close relationship between Riva and his chorus. My hunch is that it has to do with the fact that Riva is royalty; perhaps his chorus belongs to a slave class or something. Personally, though, I liked the fact that Riva’s relationship to his interpreters was different than mine: it’s a science-fiction TV show, so it makes sense that his society would have evolved a different protocol. It’s nice to see some creativity rather than trying to force our current norms upon those of an alien society.

When Riva arrives on the Enterprise, he meets Geordi LaForge, who is blind and wears a visor. Riva asks Geordi several polite questions about the visor and his eyesight. I liked this because a lot of people assume that, because I am deaf, I possess more knowledge of people who have non-hearing-related disabilities. That’s not true at all; being deaf does not give me special insight into being blind. In response to Riva’s queries, Geordi says, “Well, I was born this way, and I like myself, so I like being blind.” Riva says that he feels the same way about his Deafness and praises Picard for being inclusive. They got along because both of them possessed a different array of sensory input than the rest of the Enterprise does, but they weren’t automatically BFFs by default. I liked that complexity.

Also, there is a side story involving Geordi’s visor. Physicians onboard say that they can give him eye implants, but it is a one-way surgery. If it doesn’t work, he can’t go back to the visor. The physician is a little pushy – “Why wouldn’t anyone want normal eyesight?” – but in the end, Geordi says that he has to think about it because it would mean giving up a lot. I thought that this was a metaphor for cochlear implants, and I liked its subtlety. Because Geordi is a recurring character, it’s easier to explain these issues in terms of someone that the viewer already “knows,” rather than starting from scratch by introducing the concept of Deaf culture and explaining why it is important.

Once introductions are complete, Picard prepares to brief Riva on the mission. As it turns out, Riva feels so confident in his abilities as a diplomat that he requires very little information and walks out of the room before Picard officially adjourns the meeting. The fact that Riva has some personal flaws – arrogance – shows that he is a human being with flaws, rather than this super-perfect ideal Deaf person. Personally, I feel pressured as a smart Deaf person to put on a good face, but the writers of Star Trek understand that, instead of representing the entire Deaf community, Riva is an individual who happens to be Deaf. I liked that.

Also, I like the fact that a Deaf character was specifically skilled in interpersonal communications. In this society, a lot of people assume that you have to be hearing to deal with interpersonal conflicts, but I don’t think that that’s true at all. In fact, Riva himself discusses this point when he dines with Counselor Troi. They are initially accompanied by Riva’s warrior/libido chorus member, but halfway through the dinner, Riva sends him away. He slowly introduces signs to Troi, waiting for her to understand individual words and gradually creating sentences. He explains that that words are not the most important thing in communication: what lies beneath is more important. I liked this because it demonstrated that the human brain is the most important sense organ of all: we may perceive the world in different ways, but it doesn’t matter because our ability to fill in the blanks is key.

A note: Riva signs in American Sign Language. I found this to be totally hilarious and it did break my suspension of disbelief for a moment. An alien from a far-away civilization thousands of years in the future signs ASL? Give me a break. It’s especially irksome because hearing people assume that the entire world has one sign language. But then I thought about it some more and I realized that it’s equally implausible that the crew of the Enterprise speaks modern English. And, as it turns out, this episode does discuss the existence of different sign languages. More on that shortly.

The episode takes a definite turn when Riva, his chorus, Worf, and Riker beam down to the planet to begin negotiations. Before they can begin, a rebel kills all three of Riva’s chorus members, forcing everyone else to beam up to the Enterprise. Needless to say, Riva is incredibly distraught. Like I said, I think his relationship to his chorus was much more intense than a typical interpreter/client relationship, so I think that that was a factor, but the episode focuses on the fact that Riva can no longer communicate as easily as he did before.

In the absence of his chorus, Riva signs to the crew of the Enterprise. What he says isn’t subtitled, but he rants about the unfairness of the situation. Picard tells him to calm down, then directs Data to figure out what sign language Riva uses and to learn it. Data finds that there are thousands of sign languages in the entire universe, narrows down the list to five possibilities, and learns all five of them. He then demonstrates sentence structure of an alien sign language to Picard. At this point, my concerns about the representation of ASL as a stand-in for all signed languages dissolved.

With the help of Data, Riva is able to communicate more easily, but it isn’t a cure-all. He points out that, since Data is an android, he won’t be able to convey the nuances in Riva’s tone. This, in turn, could compromise his role as a diplomat. I liked the fact that the writers recognized this: one of the most important roles of an interpreter in real life is to convey intention as well as literal meaning. Distraught, Riva asks the Enterprise to take him home because he does not feel that he can complete his job.

In an effort to get Riva to stay, Counselor Troi sits down with him and asks him how he usually does his job, and Riva answers, “I look for disadvantages that I can turn into advantages.” Troi says, well, why don’t you do that? Riva then has an eureka moment and asks to be beamed back down to the planet to begin negotiations again.

They assemble an away team, and, once on the planet, Riva tells them to leave. They ask Riva how he will communicate with the people of the planet, and he explains that he will teach the aliens how to sign. They point out that it took Data only minutes to learn sign language, but it will take months for others to learn – a tidbit that I appreciated, because it shows that sign language is as complex of a language as any other. Riva says that that’s the point; by learning sign language, the aliens will be forced to learn how to communicate with one another. This, in turn, will give them the tools to resolve their disputes.

So, in the end of the episode, Deafness turns out to be 100% positive asset. I think it’s a really great reminder for Deaf people that, although some of us may rely a lot on interpreters to interact with the Hearing world, they are not everything. Plus, the actor is Deaf.1 It was really, really, really refreshing for me to see this positive portrayal of Deafness in Sci-Fi- instead of imagining a brave new world in which everyone is ‘cured,’ we learn that diversity endures thousands of years from now. And, rather than being a disability, it enriches the lives of the universe.

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  1. Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if he participated in the writing process because the episode was so positive overall. []
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