Transgressing the Object:
Audism is Not Just a Word
ALA & RC : February 2012
“When you stare into the abyss the abyss stares back at you.”
-Friedrich Nietzsche
Let’s just get one thing clear right from the outset: Audism is not an appalling, unspeakable word. It describes a dynamic in which deplorable actions (and inactions) are occurring.
Making the choice not to discuss audism or use that particular term does not mean that audism is not taking place. In fact, we are of the belief that the very act of discouraging conversations about “audism” (including use of the term) is in itself an oppressive act. It is an act of privilege, a decision that is usually made by those in power and it is one that will most definitely result in a situation where audism and audist behaviors are perpetuated. And those who are oppressed will continue to be made to feel powerless.
That powerlessness builds within a tight container of silence, silence that is enforced by subtle threats and is buried within walls of fear. It soon turns into something else: rage. It becomes the deepest, most destructive kind of anger and sooner or later will create a division between groups that feels almost impossible to bridge. It turns an ordinary human being simply going about her life, working towards happiness like anyone else, into a blindingly angry deaf woman that those who refuse to change will hold up as an example of how irrational deaf people are and why it is not a good idea to talk about. . . audism.
When discussing education, we often point to the importance of “attitude.” We interrogate ways in which attitudes have the power to affect our teaching, our expectations. In looking at why “Deaf Education” fails, we must stop ignoring and denying the single most driving factor that leads to failure: audism. You cannot fix the problem of why so many Deaf children experience barriers to achievement without discussing and addressing dynamics of power, privilege, and oppression.
During our brief tenure at Michigan School for the Deaf, we attended one staff meeting that quickly turned hostile. This was during a time when great waves of hearing-deaf tensions were flowing through the school. That wound inside of us, borne of the iron fist of the oppressor, which we were not allowed to expose or have validated, festered, became an infection. It created this deep immobilization that is difficult to describe. How can one be so filled with a passionate anger, with a fierce sense of justice, and yet not move? We couldn’t. We couldn’t find the words. There wasn’t space to, really.
The topic at hand during this particular meeting was related to staff resisting the idea of having an ASL festival for students. At one point, a young, gifted, audist—yes, there it is, that word—instead of attempting to give us space to explain our frustrations, broke down crying. We were being so, so mean, you see. Us angry deaf people were frightening to her. She tried so hard, and yet we didn’t appreciate her. She sobbed in great gasping heaves.
Just when we thought we couldn’t be any more hurt, that burning rage expanded into this huge fireball and we could, for that one moment in time, call ourselves insane. Not that we did anything, not then- but it was there, inside, that complete spontaneous combustion that left us with no choice but to disconnect, the way that trauma victims do. How dare she talk about pain? About being unfair? How dare she cry, when we couldn’t?
Maybe in the halls and in meetings and in the classrooms, no one is using the word. But audism is a gremlin, scurrying in and out of every classroom, every office. It’s wide-toothed grin hangs upside down while slimy fingers poke and prod and drive people to depression, to quitting, to meaningless relationships and desolation—all of which spills over into our students. They feel it, that hopelessness and helplessness, that lowered expanse of sky – where, if they stand up, stand tall, they’ll smack their heads against some invisible brick that no one dares to talk about.
The good news is that there is a way to have conversations about audism, without throwing out words like weapons, pointing at someone and saying, “You audist!” It does no good when groups of people, in behind-closed-doors meetings, gossip maliciously and make suppositions about the intent and behaviors of others.
What does seem to be effective is something called dialogues. Conversations where people make a genuine effort to listen, with hopes of understanding what the other person is experiencing. Dialogues are not debates. They are not about convincing someone or winning an argument. Dialogues that are well facilitated (and ongoing) are a tool that can be utilized by people who are invested in personal growth and genuine human interaction.
Understand, however, that the presence of dialogues does not mean an absence of tension. Tension is a normal, necessary part of life, and just as it rises so, too, will it diminish. What we too often forget is that the tension that comes alive and is felt by the oppressor when oppressed groups resist was there all along. That tension was once a cloud of frustration, a suffocating sense of utter lack of fulfillment and self-worth, and it was seated heavily inside of the chest of the oppressed.
Dialogues are a powerful way to create the safe environment that is necessary in order to explore fears. Letting go of power will provoke anxiety in most people. It means a loss of identity or a loss of control. The process of exploring our internal drives is so deeply personal -- to see and show parts of ourselves that we are ashamed of. Because we’re not just finding the “audist” that exists in all of us, we’re also taking long look into that part of us that maybe feels good when we are controlling someone else, maybe a little bit better (or stronger or prettier) than someone, and that usually comes from a very painful place, an unmet need, wounds of our own. In other words, when we look into that inner abyss, we aren’t always comfortable with what we find looking back at us.
Dialogues are a place where stories are welcome. When we hear about someone’s pain it is a little bit harder to continue behaviors that create or trigger that pain. That’s where real change happens, where meaningful relationships are built, where people start showing up and trying harder, creating and laughing and loving. And our students stand taller, reach higher, and some days they actually touch the sky.
*To learn more about audism, check out Audism Free America at:
