Tag Archives: Reviews

Longing for A Deaf Community

Longing For A Deaf Community

A review of Raymond Luczak’s “Mafia Butterfly” in Nothing Without Us (Renaissance Press, 2019)

By Derek Newman-Stille

Raymond Luczak’s “Mafia Butterfly” is pure Deaf Pride. Luczak explores the powerful intersection of femininity and Deafness with a character who turns off her hearing aids so she doesn’t hear catcalls, who challenges men who try to reduce her to her body, and who recognizes that the second she speaks and they recognize she is Deaf and uses sign language, they realize that “suddenly they’re not in power”. 

Luczak points out the double violence that Deaf women experience, both because of their Deaf identity and because of their gender identity, having his character comment on the ableist, sexist comments that “Deaf people are supposed to be great in bed because they don’t know how to say no” and that because of her Deaf identity, she is perceived to be “all about the body”. He explores the frustration at a family that refuses to learn to communicate with her, pointing out that she decided to take speech therapy for her family’s benefit but they won’t take time to learn ASL. 

Luczak gives the reader insight into the joy that people in the Deaf community experience when they are able to connect and use ASL with his character saying “when I tasted the forbidden fruit of Sign, I suddenly realized that I had been sleeping all my life in a cocoon”. ASL is not just a way of communicating – it is transformative, bringing his character life. She experiences pride in her identity, describing herself as “I wasn’t just deaf; I was Deaf. Capital-D!”. Deaf identity was powerful for her, allowing her to find a history, a culture, and a language. 

Yet Luczak also explores violence between members of the Deaf community and bullying by people who assume positions of power. Luczak’s narrator experiences rejection from the community she sought and the identity she needed. 

Luczak gives the reader insights into ASL when he translates signed dialogue into English, preserving the cadence and ‘voice’ of ASL in his writing with statements like “Himself same-same m-a-f-i-a decide maybe you nothing. If happens, worry not. Himself run Deaf community not.” Luczak uses these lines to speak to an audience that knows ASL, while also bringing DeafWorld closer to the hearing world and letting hearing readers experience the need to translate for once. Simple acts like this bring notice to the audism (hearing-centric nature) of our world and the expectation of Deaf authors to translate from ASL for a presumed English reader. 

“Mafia Butterfly” is a tale about the need for a Deaf community. It’s a story about resistance not only to the violence of a sexist, audist world, but also violence within the Deaf community toward members who don’t have the same access to Deaf resources. His narrator asks “why are many Deaf people so afraid about being judged when they choose to befriend a new Deaf person? Can’t they see that it isn’t healthy to dismiss people they barely know? We need more Deaf friends” 

To discover more about Nothing Without Us, go to https://renaissance-107765.square.site/product/nothing-without-us/117?cp=true&sbp=false

To find out more about Raymond Luczak at https://www.raymondluczak.com

Cry Coyote

Cry Coyote

A review of Jennifer Lee Rossman’s “Names” in Nothing Without Us (Renaissance Press, 2019).

By Derek Newman-Stille

Jennifer Lee Rossman’s “Names” is a tale of alterity, a tale of the anger a small community has for people they consider “peculiar”. Like many outsiders, Rossman’s narrator, Beck, is able to notice things that others don’t, able to pick up on things that her community is invested in ignoring. 

Rossman’s use of a character who misreads “normative” social cues allows for a complex social interaction with other characters and propels us into a situation where conversations can be precarious. Rossman is able to draw us into Beck’s mind in a way that allows readers to feel the anxiety and danger of communication, sharing a vulnerability that adds power and dimension to this story and invites readers to think more about dialogue and how dialogue often centres “normative” communication styles.

While centring a character who has non-normative social interactions, Rossman weaves a tale about the magic of speech, thought, and names, exploring a shape-shifter who can be drawn in by thinking or speaking about them. Communication suffuses “Names”, inviting readers to speculate about the way that language and social interactions shape our world. 

Rossman explores the complex and often dangerous interactions that non-neurotypical people have with the police, and couples this with the threat of police racism. Beck tells the police that they won’t be able to solve a crime involving the death of a Navajo woman because “all your deputies are white”. Beck, who is a person of colour in addition to being non-neurotypical, is aware of the way that police will often not be able to navigate knowledge systems and ways of interacting with the world that are not their own. Beck recognizes the uniqueness of her perspective and that this gives her insights that police may not have.  

Rossman tells a tale of a murder case that can’t be solved with neurotypical, white ways of thinking, one that requires different knowledges and experiences that most of Beck’s small town are not capable of working with. This is a tale of a girl who has been told all of her life that she is peculiar and shouldn’t be herself facing a monster who is capable of taking the form of anyone else, shifting into other people. It is a tale of someone who is incapable of being someone else learning that her identity is powerful. As Beck states “All my life, people have tried to make me say names, make me look them in the eye and touch them without flinching. They shame me into not being me. And all my life, I’ve tried not to be. Tried not to be me. But this is me. I’m peculiar and I can’t be any other way if I tried, and I don’t want to try.”

Rossman’s story, “Names” is part of the anthology Nothing Without Us, a collection of fiction by disabled authors edited by Cait Gordon and Talia Johnson and published by Renaissance Press. Nothing Without Us seeks to give voice to the narratives that disabled people want to read and to ensure that our stories are told to us by us. These are tales that challenge the tired tropes of disability and the problematic reduction of disability in order to explore our complexity as disabled people. Nothing Without Us offers a space where we can hear disabled stories that don’t have to explain themselves to an assumed abled audience, but rather recognizes that we need stories for ourselves too, stories that many of us have searched for.

to discover more about Jennifer Lee Rossman, go to http://jenniferleerossman.blogspot.com

To find out more about Nothing Without Us, go to https://nothingwithoutusanthology.wordpress.com or Renaissance’s website at https://renaissance-107765.square.site/product/nothing-without-us/117?cp=true&sa=false&sbp=false&q=false

When A Kiss Isn’t Just A Kiss

A review of Jax Jacki Brown’s “The Politics of Pashing” in QDA: A Queer Disability Anthology edited by Raymond Luczak (Squares and Rebels, 2015)

By Derek Newman-Stille

Jax Jacki Brown’s autobio story “The Politics of Pashing” explores the visibility of Queerness and Disability and the politics of staring. Jax explores her ability to reverse staring that happens as a Queer wheelchair-user by “pashing” (kissing passionately) in public and playing with her “eye-catching” nature by dying her hair red, wearing a rainbow neckerchief and overlaying her body “with signals of queer sexuality”. Instead of being the object of staring by an ableist, heterosexist society, she takes power away from people who would use their ableist glare by instead reversing the stare and making her body a display of fierce sexuality.

Jax questions whether people are staring at her because of her Queerness or disability, inviting the question of which identity attracts the most stares. She determines that people are staring at her because of her disability and their assumption that disabled people are un-sexual. She tells her readers that she resists this de-sexualization by presenting people with the visibility of her sexuality – by kissing passionately in public.

Often folks with disabilities and Queer folks are taught not to show our sexuality in public. We are taught that holding hands, kissing, and hugging are too icky for the straight, able-bodied cis-gendered public to handle. We are relegated to private spaces. A lot of that “teaching” happens through the stare… and, more specifically, a form of the stare that is openly hostile – the glare. We are Othered from public spaces, and it is a radical act to kiss in public, to demonstrate our love and sexuality in spaces that are hostile to anything that doesn’t conform to a heterosexist, ableist ideal. Jax’s acts of kissing seem like such little things – just a kiss – but when our kisses are treated as threatening, the act of kissing has power. It asks the question of why we are excluded from public spaces, it gives us power over the way we are stared at, and it remakes public space into a space where we can assert our presence and resist erasure. She tells her readers “Until disability and sexual diversity become more visible in the media, my kissing in public will never be a simple act. My pashes will always be political, enacting a complex interplay between my queer and disabled identities, and my pride in these two parts of myself.”

To find out more about QDA, go to http://www.squaresandrebels.com/books/qda.html

To discover more about Jax Jacki Brown, go to http://fukability.blogspot.com

Deaf Planet

Deaf Planet

A review Kelsey M Young’s “Understanding” in Tripping the Tale Fantastic: Weird Fiction by Deaf and Hard of Hearing Writers (edited by Christopher Jon Heuer, Handtype Press, 2017)

Imagine a planet entirely populated by Deaf people. Imagine all of the possibilities for Deaf inclusion and accessibility with an entirely Deaf planet. Now imagine that there is one city where the oral method is forced on everyone. That is where Kelsey M Young situates the story “Understanding”.

“Understanding” brings attention to issues with schools who forced the oral method of communication on Deaf students. It is a reminder of the power of audism and the history of banning students from using signed languages. Although situated in a science fictional world on a distant planet, Young’s story is about the oppression Deaf students have experienced in school systems that force their audist ideas of language on the population. Young brings up issues like teachers hitting the hands of students for using manual languages, students being forced to sit on their hands to avoid signing, students struggling with comprehension when their teachers only use vocal languages, and the feeling of isolation that comes from being constantly othered.

“Understanding” is situated in a place called Milan, where signed languages are forbidden and the people who use them are called animals and subject to deportation. Even though Eyeth is a colony planet for Deaf people, the community of Milan treats sign language as a crime and forces its Deaf population to use a combination of hearing aids and speech reading. Young hints at the possibility that at some point in the past of this planet, it was ruled by people who used American Sign Language (ASL or Ameslan as it is called in Young’s story) and therefore ASL carries a lot of stigma.

Young’s tale is about a teacher who risks everything to teach a student manual languages since he is struggling with oral language, bringing attention to issues with our own history of forcing Deaf students to learn by oral method and also bringing attention to the teachers who resisted school policy to help their students succeed. This is a powerful story of Deaf Futurity that also recognizes the continuing presence of past (and continuing) oppressions.

To discover more about Tripping the Tale Fantastic: Weird Fiction by Deaf and Hard of Hearing Writers, go to http://handtype.com/books/tripping/

The Cinematic MRI

A review of Paul McGuigan’s “Victor Frankenstein” (Davis Entertainment Company, 2015).
By Derek Newman-Stille

I’ve been giving thought to the cinematic gaze lately and the way that is configures disabled bodies. Frequently camera angles focus in on bodily difference, breaking disabled bodies on screen into dismembered parts – zooming in on prosthetic legs, panning to blind eyes. The camera breaks the disabled body up into parts of difference, divorcing it from its bodily context and from the personhood associated with it. 

This figuring of the disabled body as parts mimics the medicalized lens, brining attention to individual parts of the body in isolation, as pathologies rather than parts of a bodily and identity wholeness. Much like the freak show and the medical theatre, film seeks to break people down into their parts

“Frankenstein” was written by Mary Shelley as a body text, exploring the idea of how life and death are entwined into bodily existence and examining the perception of medical science that it could conquer the body and bring nature to heel. 

In the many adaptations of her text, the monster’s body has taken an iconic voice of its own, the monster losing his original eloquence to become the childish, silent figure of film, a creature that was all body and no voice.

Paul McGuigan’s film “Victor Frankenstein” continues his bodily silence and performs the medical apparatus of the body. Building on the investigative lens used by the BBC’s Sherlock, with camera panning into key pieces of evidence, the camera work of “Victor Frankenstein” takes a medical investigative approach to the body, giving both Victor and Igor the ability to see the inferiority of bodies, medically diagnosing them with a glance. Bodies are written over by anatomical drawings, writing skeletal and cardio-pulmonary systems on the exterior of the body.

The body is rendered a passive object, offering up its inferiority to the diagnostic gaze.

We first get introduced to Igor at the circus where he is functioning as part of the freak show due to his hump. He becomes the circus medic through private learning and thus has the potential to complicate the notion of disabled body/ medical doctor by inhabiting both roles. However, when first seen by Victor Frankenstein, he is rendered a passive subject by Victor’s medical gaze, prefiguring him as an object in the same way that people witnessing the freak show had done. 

Freak show transforms into medical theatre when Victor takes Igor, still treating him as property, and alters his body without his permission, piercing his hump and forcing him into corrective clothing to adjust his posture. His body becomes property of science and he loses any ability to disrupt the simple binarism of medical practitioner and medicalized body offered by his own knowledge of medical science.

Igor is partially complicit in his own enfreakment, desiring normative bodied identity and visiting a medicalizing lens on the body of the monster that he and Victor construct as a medical fix-it for death. 

Victor Frankenstein” constructs an enhanced medicalized lens by not only focusing the camera on parts of the body that are non-conforming to ideas of bodily normalcy, but also by rendering the interior of these bodies onto the externality of the body, turning the camera into medical equipment – part cinematic camera and part MRI. This lens, combined with the treatment of bodies as open to experimentation and modification, marks the film as one of disabled bodily passivity and medicalized control. 

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/

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/