Page 16 of The Sign for Home

SignETHICAL: The edge of the “E” hand touches the outward-facing palm twice, once at the top, once at the bottom, as if it were placing the stamp of the “E” on an official document.

You’ve seen the sign before. But what does the word really mean? What isethical? If everyone else gets ethical, then you want ethical.

Arlo began to talk as I voiced.

“This is Arlo speaking now. Yes, Cyril is right. It’s good for theinterpreter to interpret everything. That’s ethical. If you let me join your class, I promise I won’t be any more work than other students. I really want a”—Arlo signshard+require+checks off five fingers like a list.I interpret this as—“demandingteacher.”

Professor Bahr began repeating herself about the class-size limits, but Arlo wasn’t finished so I kept voicing. His former timidity vanished, and his tone grew more adamant, which I tried to reflect.

“You’re the best teacher of English composition here at DCC,” he signed. “So, yes, you can say, ‘No, I don’t want Arlo in my classroom because there are just too many students!’ But you cannot reject me just because I’m DeafBlind.”

“I never said anything like that!” Professor Bahr interjected.

I attempted to get my hands into his to interpret, but Arlo was on a roll and refused to listen.

“Have you heard of the ADA law?” he signed proudly. “That stands for the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990.”

I was stunned. Arlo had obviously researched the ADA after I had mentioned it at the Abilities Institute the day we met. I did my best not to break into cheers. And even Molly was trying to subdue a proud smile.

“The ADA is a very important law from 1990,” he went on. “President George H. W. Bush approved and signed it. The law says a person or business cannot discriminate against someone for being disabled. What does that mean for me? Schools and doctors must provide an interpreter free of charge. This is called equal access. So, if you let the hearing and sighted students into your class above the fifteen-student limit, why not me? Because I’m DeafBlind? This would be ignoring the ADA law about equal access. But also, it’s just not fair…”

Fuck me!I realized “fair” was not the right gloss on the sign Arlo had used.Think! Better word, better word… Got it!

“Or rather,just! To not let me take your class isunjust.”

Pleased with the interpreting adjustment, I totally missed what Arlosigned next. I asked him to repeat it. But then, seeing what he wanted me to voice, I thought,No, no, no! You do not want me to say that! You are going to screw this up, buddy!Compared to hearing people, Deaf folk, in general, tended to be far blunter—sometimes shockingly so. In certain circumstances interpreters will do something called cultural mediation where, if it matches the Deaf person’s intent and tone, we mediate the language to prevent cultural misunderstanding. This doesn’t mean censoring a Deaf person who intends to be offensive. Deaf folks have the right to be rude, wrong, or downright offensive. It is always a delicate call. I looked over to Molly for support, but she just shrugged her shoulders in an unsympathetic “better you than me” gesture.

“Pardon me,” Professor Bahr asked, annoyed by my delay. “Is Arlo saying something I should hear?”

Taking a deep breath, I asked Arlo to repeat himself. What he was saying didn’t need cultural mediation, but my stomach still clenched at the content.

“Well, Professor,” Arlo signed, as I voiced. “You should accept me into your class because you are a Black person. Because your ancestors were from Africa and you have lived through the civil rights struggle, meaning you understand discrimination.”

“I beg your pardon?” Professor Bahr said indignantly, her eyes widening.

It felt like the entire classroom leaned forward to smell the impending bloodbath. I just wanted to hide until it was all over. But it was my voice delivering the message. Molly shook her head as if I was the one to blame. Professor Bahr pointed to Arlo but spoke directly to me.

“Why does he think I’m old enough to have lived through the civil rights struggle? How old does he think I am? Did you coach him on what to say?”

“No. I’m sorry,” I said. “This is Cyril talking now. Again, if you could please just direct the questions to Arlo. I’m really just an interpreter.”

“Yes, yes!” she hissed, frustrated at both me and herself. “You’ve said that over and over. I’m sorry!”

The class was hanging on Professor Bahr’s every word. She steadied herself and looked directly at Arlo, the DeafBlind young man who may or may not turn out to be a DeafBlind racist.

“So, Mr. Dilly. I’m curious now. Why do you assume so many things about me? You don’t know me.”

“Right. I don’t,” Arlo signed. “But I can guess a lot of things.”

“Oh, really?” Professor Bahr responded. “Like what? What else can you guess about me?”

Arlo paused.

“I think maybe you’re from somewhere in the Caribbean,” he began, as my voice tried to maintain his matter-of-fact tone. “Molly described you to me and said you have an accent. I think maybe you’re from Jamaica. At my old school I had a friend whose grandmother was from Jamaica. After vacations he would bring food back from her house and it smelled just like your breath today.”

Some of the students choked on their laughter while others squirmed in nervousness. My own queasiness was suddenly replaced with astonishment. Arlo, like a DeafBlind Sherlock Holmes, was completely able to infer significant things about the people and places around him based on the slightest shards of information. How much had I underestimated him? (How much had I underestimated Shirley and all DeafBlind people?) Truly knowing the world is less about whether you can see and hear and more about the intensity of your curiosity and intelligence.

“Interesting,” Professor Bahr finally said, placing a hand over her mouth. She looked embarrassed, but not angry. “I would like to point out I am not in the habit of eating beef patties for breakfast. I happened to be preparing lunch for myself and my husband this morning and, well, took a few nibbles and…”

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