My last employer was a selective liberal arts college, and the institution had a deaf studies program and minor. American Sign Language courses were extremely popular with students. Overall, the college was known for its friendliness. People would say hello to one another, and an endearing aspect of campus culture was that everyone would hold doors open for others. I was therefore very surprised when I noticed several times during faculty and staff gatherings, the deaf faculty were often just standing on the side chatting with the ASL interpreters. All of the other faculty and staff, and especially new faculty, were given a warm welcome by the community. The deaf faculty, however, were simply not approached.
I did some digging to better understand what might be happening. After a couple of conversations with some hearing colleagues I had built some trust with, the truth came out. Most of our hearing faculty and staff simply had not had the opportunity to interact with deaf people. They did not know basic etiquette. Were they supposed to look at the deaf person or the ASL interpreter? Could they use words like “hear” or “listen” when communicating with individuals who are deaf? Most importantly, they were simply afraid of saying or doing something that would offend deaf individuals. Fear was the motivating factor, and it was simply easier to avoid rather than engage. Surely, someone else would be brave enough to approach them, right?
I don’t want to underestimate or judge that feeling of fear. If you have felt fear, anxiety or nervousness when interacting with someone who is different, you are not alone. The only way we get over those feelings is by making a conscious decision to try. What might that look like? First and foremost, I spend some time exploring why I feel the way I do. What have I been taught — consciously or unconsciously — about the individuals or community in question? Furthermore, I try to ask myself what I might gain from developing those cross-cultural skills? Why should I care? How do my values, ethics and faith help me answer those questions?
The second step is to learn more! Often a quick internet search, such as “tips on how to interact with deaf individuals,” might yield a lot of results. In a sea of options, I often find that the most helpful tips might come from organizations that serve that community. They have the most direct lived experience, and often their goal is also to break down these barriers. Books, movies and documentaries often help me unlearn some of the myths that I might have been taught. As I learn more, I am often left with more questions. For example, I might become curious to explore something I was taught — that many deaf people can read lips and that reading lips is an equivalent alternative to ASL. Interested to know the answer? Do a search on the internet and see what comes up! (Yes, I am encouraging you to practice empathetic curiosity with an openness to find out that what you might have been taught was either partially or wholly untrue!)
The most important step on this journey is to practice. It is a conscious decision to say that you know enough to give it a try. However, it is important in this step to remember that you are trying to make a connection with a whole person. We may be tempted to focus on the differences between us, but the reality is that we might have a lot more in common than apart. The goal therefore would be to start the conversation in the same way I would with any other person: “Hello, I’m Amit. I don’t think we have met yet.”
I often think it is important to share both our successes and our mistakes as learning tools. Let me tell you mine. The very first time I had an interaction with a deaf student was in the 1990s. My second question, unfortunately, was “So, are you in the deaf studies program?” My brain and my anxiety simply had put this student in a box. Instead of an open-ended question like “What is your major?,” I decided to focus on the difference. No sooner had the words come out of my mouth that I realized that I had done something wrong. Thankfully, the person gave me direct feedback in the form of a question. “No, I am in the law school. Why did you ask if I was in deaf studies?”
This story brings me to my last point, and that is about the power of a simple apology. The Canadian part of me is just very comfortable with saying “I’m sorrrey” (that’s “sorry” for my American friends). I did not launch into an explanation of my intent or behavior. A defensive posture doesn’t help. I had caused some offense. Now it was time to own up to it. I followed up with: “I’m sorry. I made an assumption and that was wrong of me to do. I will do better in the future.” Thankfully my apology was accepted and we ended up having a long conversation about our interests. We quickly realized that we had a lot in common. We both loved techno music. Within minutes, our conversation had evolved from difference to the DJs we both loved seeing. Now if your brain is saying, “Wait, this person is deaf! How can they love music?,” let the internet again help you reveal some answers!
The principles for cross-cultural communication are the same across many lines of difference. I hope this column encourages you on your own journey to learn and develop these skills. If fear keeps us apart, let empathy, kindness and understanding help us transform fear into connection.
Amit Taneja
Senior Vice President
Chief Inclusion, Diversity, Equity and Accessibility Officer
