By Betsy Hicks McDonald of Georgetown University
I am a CODA linguist , born into a Deaf family in 1950 . My home was a fascinating place that was filled with Deaf and hard of hearing people from my family and the community , communicating in a myriad of languages and methods : signed ASL , spoken English , Rochester-method fingerspelling , and mouthing . At that time , many Deaf families were encouraged not to sign to their children and our language did not yet have the name of American Sign Language . Luckily , I have lived long enough to re-claim the language of my home and hold it close throughout my personal and professional life .
While I only realize this looking back , my early bi-culturalism gave me a love for learning about other languages and cultures . In high school , I spent a summer in Finland , learning as much about the language and culture as I could . In college , I learned French and Russian . It was natural to me to open-mindedly observe how other cultures organized their thoughts and communities . I was delighted at the different ways they expressed their thoughts . I was a cultural traveller , but not yet bilingual in ASL and English .
That all changed when I discovered Linguistics , the science of language , in the early 1970 ’ s . In addition to studying language after language , I could apply my knowledge to studying the nature of language : what it is , how we learn it , how languages vary , and what counts as a language . This study thrilled me to my core . Early on , I wondered out loud about how sign language fit in the recently outlined design features of language by Hockett ( 1960 ). “ Oh ,” a professor told me , “ sign language is the same as English , except you use your hands .” I immediately recognized that this was wrong : If it were the same as English , why couldn ’ t I follow Deaf conversations fluently ? I leapt onto my own personal sign language bandwagon , reading the very early work circulated from the Linguistics Research Laboratory of William C . Stokoe , and the Salk Institute of Ursula Bellugi and William Klima , and published in the Sign Language Studies Journal that was first released in 1972 . At the same time , I also encountered very different ideas claiming that due to the lack of auditory input , deaf people would never achieve the higher aspects of syntax . As a linguist and CODA , I knew that the syntax of all languages was equally functional for the community ’ s purposes , and that Deaf people using ASL were not limited in their expression . To refute this inaccurate statement , I realized that I needed and wanted ASL fluency so home I went .
“ Take me to the Deaf Club !” I demanded of my father . I was aiming for immersion in the language and culture . After a very weak protest of “ But you ’ re hearing !” he took me . As I lay in bed afterwards , I could feel my hands and eyes throbbing . I quickly learned to fill in the holes in my ASL vocabulary , as the foundation had already been laid from my hours of watching the fascinating people in my home .
For me , my developing ASL fluency has provided non-stop learning about Deaf culture and our community . Let me give some examples . I learned that the concept of LIE is different across Deaf and mainstream American English cultures . In the hearing world , you don ’ t lie if you just leave something out . In the Deaf community , not telling everything you know is a serious offense . I learned that Deaf conversation includes numerous , very detailed stories that are really tutorials , shared for the collective good of the community . This realization came to me after a 45-minute story about buying insurance ! I learned that in the Deaf community , both members of a conversation have equal responsibility to explain and understand . The statement : SORRY +++, NOT UNDERSTAND / “ I ’ m
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The Power of ASL |
10 |
Spring 2017 – Issue 5 |
By Betsy Hicks McDonald of Georgetown University
I am a CODA linguist, born into a Deaf family in 1950. My home was a fascinating place that
was filled with Deaf and hard of hearing people from my family and the community, communicating in
a myriad of languages and methods: signed ASL, spoken English, Rochester-method fingerspelling,
and mouthing. At that time, many Deaf families were encouraged not to sign to their children and our
language did not yet have the name of American Sign Language. Luckily, I have lived long enough to
re-claim the language of my home and hold it close throughout my personal and professional life.
While I only realize this looking back, my early bi-culturalism gave me a love for learning about
other languages and cultures. In high school, I spent a summer in Finland, learning as much about
the language and culture as I could. In college, I learned French and Russian. It was natural to me to
open-mindedly observe how other cultures organized their thoughts and communities. I was
delighted at the different ways they expressed their thoughts. I was a cultural traveller, but not yet
bilingual in ASL and English.
That all changed when I discovered Linguistics, the science of language, in the early 1970’s.
In addition to studying language after language, I could apply my knowledge to studying the nature of
language: what it is, how we learn it, how languages vary, and what counts as a language. This study
thrilled me to my core. Early on, I wondered out loud about how sign language fit in the recently
outlined design features of language by Hockett (1960). “Oh,” a professor told me, “sign language is
the same as English, except you use your hands.” I immediately recognized that this was wrong: If it
were the same as English, why couldn’t I follow Deaf conversations fluently? I leapt onto my own
personal sign language bandwagon, reading the very early work circulated from the Linguistics
Research Laboratory of William C. Stokoe, and the Salk Institute of Ursula Bellugi and William Klima,
and published in the Sign Language Studies Journal that was first released in 1972. At the same
time, I also encountered very different ideas claiming that due to the lack of auditory input, deaf
people would never achieve the higher aspects of syntax. As a linguist and CODA, I knew that the
syntax of all languages was equally functional for the community’s purposes, and that Deaf people
using ASL were not limited in their expression. To refute this inaccurate statement, I realized that I
needed and wanted ASL fluency so home I went.
“Take me to the Deaf Club!” I demanded of my father. I was aiming for immersion in the
language and culture. After a very weak protest of “But you’re hearing!” he took me. As I lay in bed
afterwards, I could feel my hands and eyes throbbing. I quickly learned to fill in the holes in my ASL
vocabulary, as the foundation had already been laid from my hours of watching the fascinating
people in my home.
For me, my developing ASL fluency has provided non-stop learning about Deaf culture and
our community. Let me give some examples. I learned that the concept of LIE is different across Deaf
and mainstream American English cultures. In the hearing world, you don’t lie if you just leave
something out. In the Deaf community, not telling everything you know is a serious offense. I learned
that Deaf conversation includes numerous, very detailed stories that are really tutorials, shared for
the collective good of the community. This realization came to me after a 45-minute story about
buying insurance! I learned that in the Deaf community, both members of a conversation have equal
responsibility to explain and understand. The statement: SORRY+++, NOT UNDERSTAND / “I’m
sorry
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