Death. Deaf.
I had to laugh. A very common mistake. However, the way he said it got me thinking . . .
What he said was quite a metaphor. By meeting us two Deaf (aka Death) travelers, his ideas regarding so-called disabled travelers changed. We brought the end, or the death, to his old ideas.
In a very small way, he was a changed man simply because he had discovered an idea that allowed him to readjust his view of how the world is working.
We as the Deaf people are quite a paradox within this world, forever representing the humankind's potential for leading a fulfilling, happy life while frequently being perceived as sadly lacking something that is often thought as being fundamental to our identity.
We are constantly surprising the world simply by breathing. Many travelers we encountered on the road were in awe of us, calling us "brave" for daring to venture out to see the world, even though they were doing the very same thing.*
I wonder, maybe by calling us brave, they do not mean we are brave in spite of our deafness. Rather, from their perspective, we are brave for walking among people who could not understand us, among people who do not always communicate with us, and among people who are many worlds away from us.
They are amazed that we are willing to take the risk of placing our trust in strangers' hands. They are watching us, perhaps incredulous by the way we converse in this beautiful, strange language that nearly nobody around us speaks, nod, and then turn to strangers, conceding to their insistence to help us.
They are gasping over our willingness to go with the flow without totally understanding what is going on. They are shouting out in surprise over our horror tales of a mission gone awry, of a request gone misinterpreted, and of a plea gone ignored. Perhaps they are imagining how the hell can we remain so willing, so trusting, so excited about our journey in spite of everything.
Ah, courage, they thought, it must take courage. It has to be courage. We are brave enough to travel. We travel because we are brave.
Maybe they do not know that it does not take courage for us to travel. We are as brave as they are to go far away from our country, to replace comfort with the unknown, and to always feel so small in this big, big world.
They perhaps do not realize that, to us, placing trust in strangers' hands isn't risky for us. We have been spending all our lives doing this kind of thing: allowing strangers to do things for us simply because it is easier, faster and more convenient.
Being Deaf in this world has trained us since birth or early age to determine how much we should allow a stranger to help us. We are rather gifted in that way: we are able to distinguish the difference between total takeover and simple trust.
We are also very conscious by how we are perceived by the "non-disabled." They are pitying us. Their hearts bleed for our so-called misfortune. They want to help.
And, as bad as it sounds, we are taking advantage of their pity.
Our smiles widen as they promise to guide us straight to our seats, knowing it'd mean skipping the hassle of communication breakdown, confusion about how things are managed, and sometimes even security screening that other travelers have to put up with.
Our eyes flutter as we look down to calm down our desire to laugh out aloud as they run around, pointing at us and demanding that we are to be helped to our next destination. That would mean less money to lose, less time to waste, and easier traveling for us.
Doesn't the world know that because we are Deaf, we get disability discounts and sometimes even free admission into famous places?
Doesn't the world know that because we are Deaf, we gesture better and understand others' body language faster than the average individual?
Doesn't the world know that because we are Deaf, we receive more protection, support, and kindness from foreign strangers than other tourists would normally receive?
Doesn't the world know that because we are Deaf, we are experiencing the world at a level so utterly foreign to others that our apparent bravery probably stems from our comfort with the idea of being a foreigner since we are already foreigners in this world?
It is very possible that we don't travel because we are brave. We travel simply because we want to, just like many other travelers.
We are smart. We are adaptable. We are experienced. We know how to adjust to different situations. We know how to get along with hearing people. We know how to live.
Hmm.
Wait a second.
I am wandering away from the entire point behind this post. There is one reason why I am saying all this stuff . . .
To the woman in Bangkok who advised us against traveling in Myanmar/Burma, implying that our deafness will probably fuck things up and we will turn up dead somehow:
Hello.
Look at us.
We've made it.
We are not dead.
We are Deaf.
*The late comedian and disability rights advocate, Stella Young, coined a fantastic term: "inspiration porn." This term refers to the "non-disabled" people's inclination to view the disabled as the source of inspiration, failing to recognize that the disabled is not here to inspire the world and that like the non-disabled, they simply live their lives out. "Disability doesn't make you exceptional, but questioning what you know about it does," Young said during one of her presentations.
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