Tag Archives: Deaf

Sign Police and the Town Mouse and the Country Mouse.

A review of Roz Rosen’s “The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse” in Deaf Culture Fairy Tales (Savory Words, 2017)
By Derek Newman-Stille

The fable of The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse is one about craving what one doesn’t have, and about discovering what is most valuable. In Roz Rosen’s Deaf Culture version of the tale, Town Mouse convinces Country Mouse that he isn’t getting enough quality food, so he convinces his Country Cousin to join him in town, allowing him to see the generous feast offered by the wealthier family that Town Mouse stays with.

Of course, there is a drawback to all of the wealth of food and beverages… the house is guarded by guard dogs who prevent the use of sign language. These “Dog Sign Police” begin to bark and attack the mice whenever they use sign language, forcing them to repress their language if they are going to stay on the premises. Country Mouse is forced into a debate about whether he is willing to give up his language in order to experience the luxury of food or whether he values his language and right of expression enough to go back to eating beans, corn, and stale bread. 

Rosen expresses the idea that one’s cultural expressions and language are another essential part of life, a fundamental need that is as strong as the need for food and water. 

To find out more about Deaf Culture Fairy Tales, visit http://www.savorywords.com/dcft-by-roz-rosen-2/

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Beautifully Deaf Swan

Beautifully Deaf SwanA review of Roz Rosen’s “The Ugly Duckling” from Deaf Culture Fairy Tales (Savory Words, 2017).

By Derek Newman-Stille

The Ugly Duckling is a tale of non-conformity, family rejection, and self discovery, so it makes sense that Roz Rosen re-wrote it into a Deaf fairy tale to explore dynamics of exclusion and rejection. Rosen’s Ugly Duckling is a tale that brings attention to the medicalization of Deaf bodies, and Mother Duck, perceiving something to be different about her Duckling decides to invite in a doctor, who diagnoses him as Deaf, telling her that this is “bad news” and that the Duckling will need constant listening and speaking therapy as well as medical interventions. Mother Duck takes this medical advice and subjects her child to medical procedures and speech therapy to try to force him to learn to speak English and speech-read. When the Duckling isn’t learning speech fast enough, the doctor, appropriately named Doctor Quack for his quack ideas, forces the Duckling to have his wings bound so that he is forced to rely on vocalizations. This procedure mimics the experiences of many Deaf youth who were taught the oral method and forced to sit on their hands to prevent them from signing. 

The Duckling internalizes the ableism around him, eventually wanting to conform to the expectations of his parents, siblings, doctor, and duck society around him. He keeps his binding on even when he is at threat by hunters and allows his flying to atrophy. Despite all of his attempts to conform, he continues to experience isolation and loneliness, finally abandoned by his family to freeze to death in the winter. 

Fortunately he is rescued by a human being and his Deaf cat. The Duckling is introduced to Deaf culture through the cat, who he has an instant kinship to through their mutual Deafness. The cat tries to help him through the damage already done to him through an audist culture, and begins to teach him to embrace who he is, learn to fly, and learn to communicate without vocalizations. 

Rosen expresses the idea, as she does in many of her Deaf Culture Fairy Tales that there is a universal connection through sign language – that Deaf people recognize each other through a sense of shared identity, and that they can find a way to communicate with each other even if they come from different cultural backgrounds and different animal groups. Through this transformative tale, Rosen focuses on the liberating quality of being part of a Deaf community and the escape from audist norms and assumptions about Deaf people. She brings attention to issues with the treatment of Deaf children by hearing parents and the isolation that comes with being treated differently from the rest of the community. “The Ugly Duckling” is a tale of taking pride in one’s self and one’s difference.

To find out more about Deaf Culture Fairy Tales, visit http://www.savorywords.com/dcft-by-roz-rosen-2/ 

Interview with Elsa Sjunneson-Henry

Interview with Elsa Sjunneson-HenryBy Derek Newman-Stille

I was pleased to encounter Elsa Sjunneson-Henry’s work through the Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction project currently underway with Uncanny Magazine and am glad that we were able to talk about speculative fiction and the power of writing disability. I want to thank Elsa for taking the time to chat with us here at Dis(Abled) Embodiment and for her powerful responses that both enlighten us as readers and empower us.


Q: To begin our interview, could you tell readers a little bit about yourself?

Elsa Sjunneson-Henry: I’m a partially deafblind bicoastal raised speculative fiction writer and editor. I also work in tabletop games and do some theatrical design support work. My platform is more or less broken into three parts: I’m a writer, an editor, and an activist. All three intersect one another, and I work hard to not let them get too disparate. 

Q: You do work in both theatre and creative writing. How do these art forms speak to each other? Does your theatre work inform your writing and vice versa?

Elsa Sjunneson-Henry: I was having a conversation about this recently. My job in theater is as a dramaturg, which means I’m basically the researcher for a show. I create books for show staff, information about what a production history might look like, the setting (if it’s historical, it might include a brief for actors) and information on design choices for the tech people. It really informs how I prepare to write novels, or short stories, because I tend to create book bibles for my worldbuilding. Reference books for fictional worlds are how I got my start, and they don’t seem to be going away anytime soon. 

Q: How do you identify or engage with the topic of disability? 

Elsa Sjunneson-Henry: When I was a teenager I did not identify as disabled the way I do now. But these days, I’m proudly disabled. What that means for me is that I’ve engaged with this part of my identity pretty publicly, as an activist, a creator, and an editor. I don’t shy away from talking about what it’s like to be me, but I also don’t shy away from being honest about what I need or desire from the world. 
A lot of my work recently has been as an activist. I’ve been working to get better access to government representatives for disabled people like myself, because equal representation is deeply important to me. 

Q: What are some of the pitfalls and tropes that authors frequently get into when writing blind identities?

Elsa Sjunneson-Henry: The biggest pitfall is what I call the Daredevil Problem. A blind character who doesn’t need any of the trappings of blindness because their powers are able to circumvent the reality of being blind. In the TV show, Daredevil doesn’t need his cane to fight; he “sees” in red. His senses are so strong that we don’t need him to really be blind. 

The other one is, of course, that most sighted creators of blind characters assume that total blindness is the norm. Which it isn’t. Blindness exists on a spectrum of experiences, and not acknowledging that in our fiction is deeply frustrating. 

Q: What are some ways that your own work disrupts these tropes?

Elsa Sjunneson-Henry: When I’ve written fully blind characters, I make sure that they intersect with the adaptive devices that would work best for them. Not all fully blind people use guide dogs, some use white canes. Some, like Daniel Kish, echolocate. I try as best as possible to show a wide variety of blindness narratives in my work, because the individual experience of blindness is as much about the way a person interacts with it as what works best for them. 

Penny, my blind FBI agent from Seeking Truth uses a guide dog, because her guide dog is a part of her techniques for her job. Tara uses a white cane because she lives in New York City. Different needs for different women. Same disability. 
Disrupting the common narrative of blindness is one of my goals as a writer and editor. 

Q: Deaf characters are rarely explored in literature. What are some issues that authors tend to get into when writing Deaf characters?

Elsa Sjunneson-Henry: Much like with blindness, there’s a falsehood that D/deaf characters are completely D/deaf 100% of the time. I also think we don’t see a lot of Deaf culture, we see assumptions of how it manifests, but we do not see people who are engaged with (or not engaged with) Deaf culture in meaningful ways. But I suspect the latter will have to come from Deaf authors. 

Q: What do you do with your own writing of Deaf characters to create more empowering narratives?

Elsa Sjunneson-Henry: I try to push envelopes. I just wrote a story with a Deaf marine, who uses technology and sign to interact with the world around her. She’s still fully able to participate in the military practices that she has signed up for, and in fact is incredibly good at her job. I try to make sure that my D/deaf characters are just as interesting, and badass, as hearing ones. 

Q: What are some ways that we, as disabled authors, can challenge and disrupt tropes and assumptions about us? 
Elsa Sjunneson-Henry: I think if you live on the sliding scale of disability (like I do) wherein your disability is not the “expected” representation, it’s really important to show people what disability looks like on a wide array. 
I also think we as disabled authors are hungry for stories that many people can’t imagine us wanting. I heard it said recently that disabled people probably don’t want to write horror, because it turns us into victims. My perspective on that is different. I see horror as a place where we can triumph. When the world grows too dark, we can use our canes or guide dogs. When the word loses sound, we can sign. When people are confronted with sirens whose songs compel us into action, we may be able to turn off our hearing aids. 

Sometimes, being able to lose a sense or knowing how to cope with its loss is a skill we want. 

Q: You have written about ways to engage in acts of resistance and civil disobedience in your essay “Rise Up, Act Up”. What are some ways that we can resist ableism through acts of civil disobedience?

Elsa Sjunneson-Henry: Check out National ADAPT for starters. They’re incredible inspirations to me (and I mean that in the best way possible. Sometimes that’s a dirty word in disability politics, but not here). Witnessing disability and civil disobedience in action is incredibly important. 
If you want to get active, I suggest starting there. 
I think it’s important to remember that not all people with disabilities can or want to participate in civil disobedience, and while that’s not what you asked, what I’m about to say might sound like it excludes people with invisible disabilities, but I hope you understand it’s not meant that way. 

Civil disobedience for me is about more than just the political action of marching, or resisting, it’s about being visibly disabled in the course of that fight. Disabled people are often erased from political conversations, left out from where we’ve always been. I could probably do a whole essay on this, but the fact is, we’ve always been here. National ADAPT has been around since the 1970s, Helen Keller was a dedicated Socialist. Disability and activism come hand in hand, and by being disabled – even invisibly – in public, while participating in a march, or a civil disobedience actin, you’re being visible as a disabled person. That matters. That’s powerful. Because people don’t want to see us sometimes. 

Q: What role do the arts have in disability resistance?

Elsa Sjunneson-Henry: The ability to write about ourselves is an act of resistance. The ability to force people to see from our perspective is an act of resistance. I identify my participation in Disabled People Destroy as an act of defiance almost. I’m saying I’m here, and that I’m not willing to go away. It feels similar to when I march in a protest, or participate in civil disobedience. We don’t get anything done by asking politely, we get things done by defiantly existing. By creating worlds we want to live in we’re not asking to be included, we’re making it happen. 

Q: You are involved in Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction. What are some ways that science fiction can respond to ableism and challenge systemic disempowerment of disabled people?

Elsa Sjunneson-Henry: Let’s start by envisioning futures where disabled people exist. 
We have Miles Vorkosigan. Miles is great. I’ve been re-reading the books recently as I’ve been preparing for Disabled People Destroy. But despite Miles’ boundless energy, Miles is not enough representation for all of us. First of all, Miles is white. He’s male. Yes, he’s disabled, but I have to ask what Miles would have been like if he’d been a woman (don’t worry, I plan on writing about that soon.) 
We need disabilities at all intersections of genre. In our cyberpunk, in our hard scifi, in space, behind wardrobe doors, in alternate history. We need it, and critically looking at why disability hasn’t been included is something I hope to bring out of the non-fiction section of the Disabled People Destroy issue. 

Q: What science fiction authors have you read that are writing empowering narratives of disability and what are they doing that empowers us?

Elsa Sjunneson-Henry: As I’ve just mentioned – Miles. We definitely need to acknowledge Lois McMaster Bujold. She’s set the bar really high for disability in science fiction. 
While not science fiction, both Fran Wilde and Mishell Baker (disabled authors who will be writing essays for me in Disabled People Destroy) are writing gorgeous books filled with disabled characters. They bring me hope. 
I feel like we’re on the edge of seeing more disabled characters in fiction, not just because I’m writing them, but because I see more coming out. I hear from people who are writing disabled characters. It’s coming, and it will be beautiful. 

Q: Science fiction is frequently about imagining new possible societies. What are some ways that science fiction can help us to imagine an accessible world?

Elsa Sjunneson-Henry: The future, at least in some incarnations is about what we’ve improved upon with technology. Technology should, theoretically, make disabled lives better. For example, reimagine what a blind person’s life is like with a driverless car. Going from a life where you can’t get anywhere without relying on others, whether it be free rides from friends, or mass transit, to a situation where you can go everywhere by yourself – that’s revolution. 
Marissa Lingen’s essay for Disabled People Destroy is a great illustration of this. I highly suggest after you finish this interview that you go read it. 

Q: In “A Place Out Of Time”, you explore time travel for a disabled character. When i read through time travel narratives, i frequently ponder how narratives would be different if i engaged with time travel through my disabled body and consider how many time periods would be completely inaccessible. What was it like to imagine disability history and think through ideas of access and the historical erasure of disabled people for this tale?

Elsa Sjunneson-Henry: Going back to my first answer in this article about theater and my job in it, I’m a dramaturg. Which means, rather than studying English, I studied history. I dove into history and swam in timelines and studied the stories of the past. And so telling stories about history is in many ways, like coming home. 
I wrote A Place Out of Time in a hot rage. I was reading something, and it erased disabled characters, it actually didn’t even acknowledge them. And I was angry, about where we stood in history, and I wanted to show people what that anger – that loss – feels like. A Place Out of Time is about a lot of things, but for me, most of all, it is about the experience of knowing that your body could fail you, not because it is your body, but because the world around you won’t keep you safe. 

Q: Ableism and misogyny frequently intersect in ways that multiply the oppression of women with disabilities. What are some of the intersections you have noticed?

Elsa Sjunneson-Henry: Sometimes, being a disabled woman is a really unpleasant experience. What I mean by that is, society already sees me as fragile because I’m a woman, and then you add the perceived vulnerabilities of blindness and deafness, and well, you get a whole mess of trouble. Not to end this interview on a low note, but the amount of violent language, personal space invasion, and outright assault that I experience on a daily basis is unthinkable if you’re a man. People assume that your body is a public object to be moved and manipulated at will. Women with wheelchairs experience this too (and I’m not a man, but I suspect men with wheelchairs also have the experience of being moved without being asked.) 
When disability and misogyny combine it’s outright dangerous. It’s something we have to think about on a constant basis, of “am I safe here” and “will I remain safe here” just to leave the house. These calculations are often left out of fiction. 

Intersections of safety, or the lack of it, are vital. We also don’t talk about disability and race nearly enough, and I believe that is also something we desperately need to fix. Disabled people are not all white, nor are all disabled experiences ones colored by whiteness. Disabled PoC have a very different experience of the world and it’s important to listen to them. #DisabilityTooWhite is an excellent illustration of this. 

——
Elsa Sjunneson-Henry is a partially deafblind speculative fiction writer and disability activist. Her short fiction is included in Upside Down: Inverted Tropes in Storytelling, Fireside Magazine, and Ghost in the Cogs. She also writes for tabletop roleplaying games and was part of the ENNIe award-winning staff for Dracula Dossier. Her nonfiction has been included in The Boston Globe, Uncanny Magazine, Terrible Minds, and many other venues. She teaches disability representation at Writing the Other, and recently spoke at the New York Public Library on this topic. She is the Managing Editor at Fireside Magazine. She has a Masters in Women’s History from Sarah Lawrence College, and uses it to critique media representation of disability from all mediums.
Current Projects: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/lynnemthomas/disabled-people-destroy-science-fiction-uncanny-m 

An Interview with Blaine Dickens

By Derek Newman-Stille

Today I have the opportunity to share an interview with Toronto-based Trans, Low Vision, Deaf/Hard of Hearing performer and playwright Blaine Dickens. In our interview Blaine talks about Deaf performance, finding a Deaf identity and community, ideas of access and inclusion and how theatre and art should be made to convey a message to all audience members.

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Q: To start off our discussion, can you tell me a little bit about yourself?

 

Blaine: I’m a Trans hard of hearing/Deaf low vision trauma survivor.

 

Q: And you are very involved in the arts, right? Can you tell us a bit about some of your art involvement?

 

Blaine: Yes! I’m a theatre performer and playwright

 

Q: What performances have you been in?

 

Blaine: I just recently wrapped up a community performance called Drift Seeds with theatre company Red Dress Productions, where I was an ASL performer. Previously, I was in involved in musical theatre – a mini musical I co-created with a group of young performers at the Journey Studio, and performed in the Emperor of Bananaland with Randolph Theatre’s Pre-college program.

 

Q: That is amazing!! Did you adapt a script for ASL performance or was it a script that was already made for ASL?

 

Blaine: My Deaf castmates and I (with the help of an ASL coach for myself) adapted the script from English!

 

Q: It is so great to find out about these adaptations because so often ASL is only included as an afterthought and often interpreters are called in to interpret but aren’t prepared to perform. Can you tell us a bit about your feelings about the need for Deaf theatre?

 

Blaine: This is a super, super important thing. Theatres are starting to catch the access bug now and some are offering interpreters for performances. But if we’re giving interpreters all of the ASL work, there’s no opportunities for Deaf performers to be involved. I went through a mainstream theatre program my four years of high school – no interpreters because I didn’t know ASL at the time and no accommodations in any other form. I was super isolated from the rest of my hearing class, because I just didn’t know what was going on. I wasn’t able to comfortably participate in any hearing theatre if there were no accommodations, so I was just pretending to understand everything. If interpreters or notetakers are present, there are extra issues with that in teaching the rest of the people involved in the project how to work with Deaf performers and how to work with interpreters. Most of the time it’s just uncomfortable and isolating. When I started working on Drift Seeds with three other Deaf performers and interpreters present (almost) constantly, it was the complete opposite. We were not only able to perform in the language we were comfortable in, but we had the support from our castmates for everything: translation work, advocacy, and figuring out how to all work together smoothly. It was the first time I felt comfortable in a theatre project – it was even the first time I could understand what was going on in a theatre project!

 

And the performance was a success! That’s one bit of proof that Deaf theatre has to be a more common thing.

 

Q: It seems like theatre has had a powerful relationship to your identity. Can you tell us a bit about the role that theatre can have for helping people explore identity?

 

Blaine: Just like any kind of art! People write down their stories and things that resonate with them because they believe others should experience it! I know for me, as soon as I started performing in ASL, I just felt a thousand times more empowered. As soon as I stopped being involved in projects that forced me to be in transphobic environments and gendered roles that I’m not comfortable with, I again felt a thousand times more empowered. I’ve gotten so many comments from other folks feeling the same thing once they saw those things happening.

 

Q: You mentioned attending a hearing high school. What was that like as a Deaf/ hard of hearing person?

 

Blaine: Pretty horrible. I failed two courses and almost failed pretty much everything else. I couldn’t connect with anyone or grow as an artist at all. The most frustrating thing was not being able to hand in work I was proud of in theatre because I just didn’t understand it. I didn’t really ask for access though. I didn’t know how to advocate for myself at the time and for a while I didn’t even recognize that the reason these things were happening was connected to my hearing level – so I just tried to understand what I could and ignored the rest. People hated that, even though it wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t ready. They just saw slacking, stuck up, other super negative things. It was a pretty horrible time and I wish it wasn’t because my Deafness is such a positive thing in my life now. In my last year of high school, though, I talked through some of what was happening with a couple of friends and was introduced to the basics of ASL and Deaf culture! I started to understand what was going on and a lot of things improved, mostly outside of school. I still tried to hide it from my peers in school because I would still be a non-hearing kid in a hearing school, but was developing my identity on my own.

 

Q: It must have been such a hugely transformative experience to be introduced to ASL and Deaf culture. What were your first experiences of Deaf culture and what did it feel like to finally find an alternative to the audist world you had experienced previously?

 

Blaine: Honestly, at first it was almost just as bad. I started to enter Deaf spaces my first week into learning ASL. I wanted to (and I think I expected to) understand everything right away overnight. At that point I was so fed up with the hearing world I just wanted to be immersed in the Deaf world and have that be my identity. But I still had a lot to work through. I still identified as hearing – I used speech with my hearing friends who signed because I wasn’t comfortable with ASL yet so I still spent a lot of time pretending to understand people, because that was what I knew how to do. It was really frustrating. I found no spaces accessible and really just wanted to connect with someone in at least one language. I felt forced to improve my ASL faster than I physically could so I could match my Deaf friends and their level, so I pushed myself way too much. I guess it paid off though! When I started to understand pretty much everything, I felt really included. I could use interpreters and access Deaf spaces without any insecurity. I wasn’t always working to understand people, and it made a huge difference in everything I did.

 

Q: This brings up a really important concept, the idea of “access”. Frequently when we see the term “access”, we think of the ways that we are not really included, but only acknowledged in a minimal way. Can you tell us a bit about how you feel about the word “access” and what it means for you?

 

Blaine: Beginning to be able to access Deaf spaces was the start of my identity development! It was a huge milestone, but I had to do all the work to make it happen. Having notetakers was pretty much impossible, and, in general, making friends was also impossible until I worked my ass off to learn more. I really just wanted to exist, be okay with where I was at, and access things that I wanted to be a part of.

 

In terms of my theatre work, most people just really don’t like working on access. They think it’s boring. They don’t want to spend the money. I really don’t have much experience with hearing people wanting to make something accessible for me. I’ve learned that in order for me to be able to access things, I kind of have to throw out the word “access”. In theatre, I like to try to get artists/arts educators/etc to think of what they’re doing as not providing access but thinking of it as their art. So I instead centre my goals for access around performance and thinking up new ways of creating perfomance. How can my performance be experienced from different perspectives based on ability? If my show is audio-based, and I want to provide access, how can I keep that art and translate it into something visual-based? It’s a lot more fun for artists to explore how they can tell their stories in different ways rather than “spending money on access”. Because really – access looks like having two boring interpreters on the side of the stage. They’re not performers. Performance looks like integrating Deaf performers and ASL into the already existing work, as well as so many other countless ideas.

 

Being able to access things is important – but from my experience people need a push to be able to provide that. And they don’t want to admit it but it helps when they’re also doing something that’ll benefit themselves.

 

Q: I like the way you linked art to the idea of making sure people are able to get the message! Art is really connected to the audience and it is interesting that so many artists fail to recognize Deaf or disabled audiences. What are some things we can do to help artists to think about ways to involve their WHOLE audience instead of just the able-bodied and hearing audiences? What ways are you working in your roles as playwrite and performer to make sure to include your whole audience?

 

Blaine: That’s the exact kind of thing I’m trying to figure out as I go along! For now, I am trying to get as many people in the conversation around access as possible and listen to them. I want to value Deaf & disabled artists and audiences, not just from my own communities.

 

I’m working on a bunch of projects! My “projects” Workflowy document is a mess with ideas and half-finished theatre things. We’ll seeeeeee.

 

Q: That is fantastic!! Now to conclude our interview, can you tell readers a bit about you and how they can connect with you and find out about your theatre work and other media?

 

Blaine: Of course!  I’m on every social media platform and super reachable on all of them. @blaineinwonderland on Instagram and @blaine_dickens on twitter.

 

Q: Thank you again for taking the time to talk to us about all of your work in performance and giving us some insights on ideas of inclusion.

 

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You can discover more about Drift Seeds at https://reddressproductions.org/current-projects/drift-seeds/

 

You can discover more about Red Dress Productions at reddressproductions.org

A Graphic History of Deaf Schools and Audism

A review of Carlisle Robinson’s The Case of Victor Gray By Derek Newman-Stille

Deaf history is wrought with oppression at the hands of hearing people, and the Deaf residential schools frequently prevented access to sign language, forcing students to instead use spoken English and rely on speech reading. Often Deaf students taught each other sign language in secret on the playground or in the hallways of schools, and, when caught, could receive punishment for learning their own language. 

In The Case of Victor Gray, Carlisle Robinson creates a historical fiction narrative based on the lives of actual Deaf students and teachers. He explores a Deaf teacher who has to fight against a system that prevents students and teachers from using their own language. Robinson portrays Victor Gray as a beloved teacher of Deaf students who taught in a combination of English and sign language, often using ASL (American Sign Language) storytelling as a reward for learning. Robinson draws Gray as a character with an animated body, hands, and face, illustrating the whole body experience of sign language. Gray is a character whose emotions and expressions exude from his body. 

Yet, Gray has to come up against a system that wants to force conformity on the Deaf population rather than allowing Deaf Culture to provide a space for Deaf expression. Robinson examines the history of Deaf schools being run by hearing people and the attempt to force the conformity of teachers and students into a hearing-only system. Gray attempts to resist this oppression of Deaf Culture, pointing out the usefulness of sign language for the education of Deaf students, and even resisting hearing culture by signing to the administrators who are attempting to erase ASL from his school. Gray eventually finds himself unemployed for trying to teach his students in the way that is most effective for them.

Gray is pathologized for his resistance and his attempts to ensure that his students can learn effectively, and, like many Deaf people in the 1930s, is treated as though he is mentally ill for resisting the hegemonic power of a hearing-only system. 

Although a tale of historical fiction, The Case of Victor Gray highlights issues inherent in the history of Deaf education, and, particularly, the stigmatization of ASL. Carlisle Robinson expresses the constant pain of a history of cultural erasure and oppression in The Case of Victor Gray, giving voice to the continued legacy of oppression and the impact that this continues to have on Deaf lives. Using a graphic medium, Robinson allows the reader to look into history, to see the richness of Deaf culture and the pain of oppression, making eye contact with figures from historical contexts. 

To discover more about The Case of Victor Gray, visit http://www.carlisle-robinson.com/the-case-of-victor-gray/ 
To support Carlisle Robinson’s work, visit their patreon account at https://www.patreon.com/carodoodles

Signs of a Powerful Graphic Narrative

A review of Carlisle Robinson’s What QQ Vol 2 
By Derek Newman-Stille

Carlisle Robinson begins What QQ Vol 2 with a lesson for hearing readers in how to address Deaf people. Carlisle points out that the vast majority of hearing people assume that everyone else is hearing and when people don’t answer, they assume this is an act of rudeness, rather than Deafness. 

Carlisle reminds readers that English is their second language and ASL (American Sign Language) is their first language, noting that the comic is an act of translation, an act of storytelling in a foreign language. This is something incredibly significant to bring attention to. Most hearing people assume that ASL is simply a gestural form of English, when, in fact, it has a different grammatical structure, different idioms, and is a different modality of language. This means that translations into English can have grammatical differences. 

Carlisle shares a nightmare as part of the What QQ Vol 2 comic, a post-Trump election nightmare where racist, homophobic, ableist people are given a place to attack those of us who are queer, disabled, or non-white. Carlisle has a character encounter someone who is wearing a “Make American Great Again” shirt who begins calling Deaf people “retarded” and queer people “faggots”. Carlisle observes that this nightmare didn’t come out of nowhere, but is based on events that are occurring in the United States, and now also in Canada, where Carlisle has made their home. 

Not everything in the comic is political, nor does it all reflect depressive realities of being in an ableist, homophobic world, some of Carlisle’s geek humour comes through in this comic as well. Carlisle points out that Spiderman’s web-shooting hand looks like the ASL sign for “I love you” and that, therefore “He fights with Love”. 

Carlisle’s comics pages often combine signs, with the character actually carrying out the signing. This is unlike signing depictions in other comics, which frequently use ASL figure graphics. However, because of the static medium of the comic image, Carlisle often depicts a large amount of text on the page, and freezes the frame with only one sign (and often only one part of the sign) visible. 

Since Deaf populations rely heavily on body and facial expressions, Carlisle’s use of expressive character faces is important for conveying essential meanings to the reader, providing emotional and situational context that complements the text. 

Carlisle combines information for hearing people about Deaf populations with tales meant for the Deaf population to enjoy, linking these together into a collection of stories about their experience as a Deaf person. 

You can find out more about Carlisle Robinson’s work at http://www.carlisle-robinson.com or check out their tapastic account at tapastic.com/carodoodles .
You can support them at https://www.patreon.com/carodoodles