What Do You Mean With That Face - Essay Example

Alessandra Angelini ENG 106 February 4, What Do You Mean With That Face? In the nineteenth century, the West created two words that differentiated two groups from one another- the normal and the abnormal- and the world has been very wrong since then. It was a beautiful, slightly windy, barely cloudy afternoon in the park, and I was sitting on a bench reading class materials and highlighting important words and passages. A few minutes later, a group approached where I sat. Something in the way they arrived, the anxious silence, self-conscious ways of looking around, and the awkward spaces between them called my attention. They had two small kids with them, but these kids were not making high-pitched noises like other kids would. They did not play pranks on one another. These kids were detached and cold to one another in ways that troubled me. For an hour, gestures, screaming sounds, facial expressions, laughter, and tears accompanied the ebbs and flows of a conversation of a young deaf child with her family who are not deaf in a situation where they have a background of onlookers and their whispers and judging talks. The group was a family, out on a day in the park. The family was composed of a father, a mother, a three-year-old girl, they called Liza and an eight-year-old boy, and they called Harvey. Harvey ran immediately to the monkey bars. Liza stayed behind with her father, while her mother went nearby Harvey. She The mother sat at a bench and started to read a thick book. Liza went to the swing, but she was not swinging it at first. When she did, she raised her hands to her ears, as if the swinging made her ears hurt. I could sense her anxiety from her scrunched-up face and tightly-closed eyes. She was making some dull screaming sounds I could not understand. Her father came to her and asked her what was wrong. She cried and pointed to her mother, and her father looked terribly confused. The bewildered look of her father must have antagonized her further. She cried and cried. The sounds struggled to come out of her throat, as if they were trying to escape a narrow, tortuous passageway. The father said: “Liza, what’s wrong honey? I can’t understand you. Can you please tell me, show me what’s wrong, honey?” He was already shouting, his arms raised toward his distressed daughter, looking angry and impatient. The people around them glanced to their direction. They were asking what the matter was too with the crying child. I could hear an old lady saying, “What a commotion! What’s the matter with that girl? Is she retarded or something?” Another lady in her late twenties, reading a book, looked up. She was with who could be her eight-year-old son because they had the same wavy blonde hair and blue eyes. Her son said, “Mom, is that girl freaking deaf or something? She’s sooo noisy. Couldn’t she shut up?” His mother replied harshly: “I don’t know, maybe a spoiled girl who deserves a good spanking.” She was shaking her head and rolling her eyes, angry of this interruption into their lives. A group of teenagers, around six of them, ages fourteen to fifteen years, went closer to the commotion. They were whispering around, first smiling, and then laughing. Two male teens, who were jogging, stopped. They looked at Liza. Liza looked around her, taking notice of those who were noticing her. A host of angry and irritated faces and voices were around her. Their gaze was hard and heated. She made more dull sad screaming noises and stomped her feet. I was as clueless as Liza and her father. What does she mean when she makes these scratching sounds in her throat? I knew she was deaf because her father was yelling at her and she did not seem to be bothered by it. She has a listening aid too, though I doubt it helped her. She only looked anxious and angry as her father tried to communicate with her, asking her what she needs and what bothers her in a loud, upset tone. Her mother must have been engrossed in the book because it took a minute for her to notice the commotion with her family. She ran to Liza. I looked at Harvey and he looked mad that his mother left his side. He went down from the bars and crossed his arms, unwilling to approach her younger sister. He yelled, “Moooom! Come back here!” Her mom looked back at him and said, “Just wait there Harvey, your sister needs me!” Her mother went near Liza and Liza took her face into her hands. Liza’s face was smeared with tears and stickiness from her runny nose, while her eyes were large, puffy, and red from crying. She was trying to talk, but it looked like it was a painful process for her. Dull sounds throbbed from her throat. Her mother tried to listen. She said: “Go on dear, mom’s here. What’s wrong honey?” Her voice was gentle and soft. One hand was caressing her daughter’s back, the other stayed on Liza’s face. Liza was quiet and closed her eyes. She was listening to words beyond what ears could hear. Her mother continued to tell her, “Honey, everything is okay. We’ll go there, wherever you want.” Liza continued to close her eyes, concentrating on her mother’s voice and touch. Her father started speaking, but his wife motioned him to be silent with a quick look and a finger on her mouth. The father looked frustrated. Liza held the swing and shook her head. She pointed at the bars where her brother was, and Harvey seemed to understand or misunderstood and angrily yelled “No!” He did not want to play with her sister. Liza cried even harder and stomped her feet. She stood up and pushed and pulled the swing chairs that crashed piercingly with one another. With hands on her ears, she ran away and her parents chased her. She stopped in the middle of the park. The people around them followed their direction with their eyes. Liza did not go very far, perhaps around five or seven meters. The mother was able to snatch her daughter by the shoulders. She went to her and told something to her. They spoke in a bizarre language of gestures and sounds. Liza listened for a minute. She took her mother’s face nearer to her. She made dull noises again and pointed to the monkey bars. The mother made monkey movements and said “Monkey-moo, monkey-mee! Monkey-moo, monkey-you!” Liza laughed. She smiled and embraced her mother tightly with both arms. Her mother took her face and wiped it with a handkerchief she took from her shoulder bag, and then she sang a lullaby near her ear. She raised her daughter and carried her, dancing her around. Liza went down from her mother and danced and twirled around like a beautiful ballerina. She swayed her arms left and right, gracefully, and when she closed her eyes, it was as if she heard classical music from Mozart and Beethoven. She was dancing without music, but music was inside her mind. She looked so lovely, as if she was flying and enjoying the air of silence around her. The father stood back, smiled and clapped his hands for his little ballerina. Liza opened her eyes and looked at him. She awkwardly went to him and hugged him with her right arm. He hugged her with both arms. Still, he looked sad. He was saddened perhaps that he could not participate in their bonding moment. Left alone, he went to Harvey and played with him. By this time, Harvey looked pacified. He was also looking while his sister danced. He smiled a little when his father went to him. His mother and sister joined them. They went farther, to another set of monkey bars beyond the group of people buzzing around. This family did not even look directly at these people, but I could sense that they noticed them too. Who would not notice the loud conversations and whispers around them? At one point, hearing the word “retarded” from those around them, the father wanted to look at whoever said it, but the mother held his face and said, “Never mind them. They’re ignorant. Let’s not stoop to their level.” His face was set hard. He clenched his fists and his jaw tightened. “Okay dear, let’s go there. These people are getting under my skin. I won’t stoop, but I might hit or verbally assault someone. They call themselves people, animals they are more likely.” After the family left, an elderly woman near me spoke with a middle-aged man beside her: “Poor child. She’s deaf. Her disability is her curse.” The man wanted to disagree, but I sensed that he thought hard to choose his words, careful of not disrespecting the older woman perhaps, because he closed his lips tighter, breathed in heavily, and then answered: “Mom, disability is never a curse. They are just different, not inferior.” She replied with a high tone: “Not inferior? Tell that to her parents and the rest of the world who would have to adjust just because she is disabled! And to be deaf is like being mentally disabled too! I mean think of our taxes, going to these disabled people, like we have to support them forever.” The man said: “Mom! Please not too loud!” Others around me whispered “retarded,” “deaf mute,” and “disability sucks.” One man said to his male companion, overhearing the old woman, “You know, she’s right. It’s not like it’s our fault they’re disabled. For all we know, it’s their parents fault. Bad genes or environment or whatever. But here we are taxpayers paying for their social welfare. I feel sorry for them, I mean, I’m no anti-disabled, but still, why are we funding for them?” His friend agreed, but said: “You’re right man, but these people need help, fixing or helping what’s wrong with them, won’t you want some government help if you’re whacked up inside too? His friend nodded his head, “You’re right too, it will be different if I’m disabled, changes everything I guess.” Many of them were adults and older than me, some were in their teens. One teenager said, “At least her mom understood her, and the world is right again.” Her peers laughed at what she said. Her male friend said, “Shucks Lily, so sentimental of you! What have you got going for these wackos? Got a disabled Alzheimered boyfriend?” The rest of the group laughed. Lily answered, “Wow Bogart, shame on you brute! You have any idea how it is to have a disability? Are you disabled? Do you know how it must feel to have a voice inside you, never to be heard because you are mute, or to not hear anything but images are popping right in front of your eyes, with people looking visibly angry around you, what to say, what to do, nothing? Nothing! Geez Bogart, get a life! Better yet, get some human soul, you a**hole!” She took her bag and walked fast away. Bogart snickered and said: “Whoa, someone’s disabled in the mind, bit**ing like that.” He and his group left. I wondered afterwards what disability means and why it is a wrong definition. In “Constructing Normalcy: The Bell Curve, the Novel, and the Invention of the Disabled Body in the Nineteenth Century,” Lennard J. Davis discusses the definition of “normalcy” that constructs the meaning of disability from the nineteenth century up to present times. I agree with him that “disability” is a marginalizing word that disempowers those who do not have “normal” abilities. Liza is deaf but she appreciates music, which makes her normal and disabled at the same time. But why does she have to be labeled as “disabled,” when she is just different? “Normal” is an unjust word to apply to a different body with a different world inside her. Longmore talks about the role of language in disability: Many activists identified language as the key to understanding harmful perceptions about disability. Words such as "cripple" and "deformed" identify disability as a defect needing a cure or a correction and to some extent disregard the identity of the individual. They also argued that defining exclusively from a medical perspective focuses on the individual physical impairment while ignoring the role that larger social, economic, and political forces play in determining the quality of life for people with disabilities. (343). His statement made me think of what one of the bystanders said about Liza, “these people need help, fixing or helping what’s wrong with them.” He is an example who stigmatizes disabled people as inferior in ways that must be fixed. The medical perspective has a way of demeaning the disabled and overlooking the wider social forces that affect their lives. After reading several writings, I also realized how little I know, or even, how little the world knows about disabilities. In the “Introduction” of A Disability History of the United States, Kim E. Nielsen explains that the disability history of the nation helps people understand the place and role of people with disabilities in the shaping of their country. I agree with her that disability is not exclusive to those who are different from people without these differences because they are a part of our nation; they are part of our humanity. In “The Spirit Chooses the Body it Will Occupy,” Nielsen tells the story of “disabled” Indians who contribute to their communities and how disability does not stop them from being members of their society. She reminds me of what I learned from Davis- that the word “normal” is only coined during the nineteenth century, making it a socially constructed word. “Normal” and “disability” are not “real” in their “differences” until people gave them differences through identifying words that give these differences. Instead of seeing “disability,” it is more accurate and humane to determine “abilities” of all people. For Emmanuelle and Liza, they can appreciate music and images. Those are their abilities. Those are the skills that must define them because it is what they have. I believe then that disabilities do not exist, only the differences that people impose on others who are different. In addition, I wondered how Liza experienced music and sounds, but Emmanuelle Laborit explained in “Selections from The Cry Of The Gull” that as a deaf person, she felt the sounds through their vibrations. If she felt the vibrations music through her feet on the floor of the music chambers where her father brought her before (Laborit 424), Liza must have felt the strong vibrations of the swing too, which antagonized her. To her, the swing may have presented horrible colors or vibrations or both. Her mother, on the contrary, is her source of comfort. Her voice must be melody to her, as well as her physical gestures and facial characteristics. Liza’s mother is the one who only knows what Laborit describes as the “umbilical method,” a natural form of communication that is based on their intimate gestures, sounds, and expressions (Laborit 431). When the teenager said that “[a]t least her mom understood her, and the world is right again,” she underlines what it means to connect through the umbilical method. Liza has yet to develop the umbilical method with others, but achieving that is difficult because not everyone wants to put themselves in the world of the deaf. Laborit also shared something insightful about her experience that helped me understand what happened to Liza. Laborit was talking about her love for her dolls that do not talk. She said: Silence therefore had a special meaning for me-the absence of communication. But from another perspective, I’ve never lived in complete silence. I have my own noises that are inexplicable to hearing people. I have my imagination and it has its noises in image form. I imagine sounds in terms of colors. My own personal silence has colors. It’s never black and white. (420). From Laborit, I thought about Liza and her dance. She must be hearing sounds in her mind in colors too. I could even now imagine her dancing to the images of Mozart’s tunes, his melody like a beautiful painting of unicorns, fairies, and elves in the most charming green rainforest. I agree with Eileen Paul, co-founder of an organization called Deaf Pride, who said: “this is a revolt against a system based on the assumption that deaf people have to become like hearing people and have to fit into the dominant hearing society” (Longmore 350). What Liza showed to the people, her ability to make images and noises her own way, is also a revolt to the thinking that the disabled must be “normal.” She has her own language and it is not less or inferior to what others use. Liza’s story and other stories from different sources argue that people with disability is under-appreciated and over-defined. These people have a rightful place in the past, present, and future, but mainstream education and media do not inform the public of this crucial knowledge. As a result, not many people understand who the disabled were and are, and they make unfair definitions and assumptions, calling them retarded, cursed, or pitiful. The disabled people are under-appreciated of what they are and what they can be and do. In addition, the definitions of “normalcy” and “disability” curtail people with disability because the former stereotype them into having dis-abilities, people who will always lack something. Instead of being impatient with those who have “missing” abilities, people who have “normal” abilities should strive to show empathy and to respond properly to the needs and concerns of those who are different from them. The world of plurality and democracy will never exist until “disability” is used to step on those who are disabled and to make them feel inferior and incomplete. Longmore explains the goal of Disability Studies. This meaning has an implication of how non-disabled people see disability too. Longmore says: Disability Studies reframes the study of disability by focusing on it as a social phenomenon, social construct, metaphor, and culture, utilizing a minority group model. It examines ideas related to disability in all forms of cultural representation throughout history, and examines the policies and practices of all societies to understand the social rather than physical and psychological, determinants of the experience of disability. (351). If people only had a basic learning of Disability Studies, they would have more understanding of the disabled, and with more understanding comes more compassion and empathy. Disability Studies can help people learn why the disabled is not inferior, but a strong distinct cultural group. In the park, Liza danced with such grace. She is a different person from me, but no less beautiful than others who can hear because she is as human as everyone else. She is dancing like an angel. I want to join her. If she allows me, I will hold her hands and together, we will dance our way to freedom from all discrimination and hate in this world. Works Cited Davis, Lennard J. “Constructing Normalcy: The Bell Curve, the Novel, and the Invention of the Disabled Body in the Nineteenth Century.” The Disability Studies Reader. Ed. Lennard J. Davis. New York: Routledge. 3-16. Print. Laborit, Emmanuelle. “Selections from The Cry Of The Gull.” The Disability Studies Reader. Ed. Lennard J. Davis. New York: Routledge, 2006. 417-434. Print. Longmore, Paul K. “The Second Phase: From Disability Rights to Disability Culture.” Why I Burned My Book and Other Essays on Disability. Philadelphia: Temple UP, 1995. Print. Nielsen, Kim E. “Introduction.” A Disability History of the United States. Massachusetts: Beacon. Print. --. “The Spirit Chooses the Body it Will Occupy.” A Disability History of the United States. . Massachusetts: Beacon. Print. Reflection I understood the assignment as narrating something about disability, a personal experience, either as a disabled person or by witnessing the experiences of the disabled. Writing this essay, I felt that I could relate because I have undergone surgery several times. I know the feeling of helplessness, and sometimes, hopelessness. The writing came most natural when I wrote the reflective part. I enjoy reflecting in a way that synthesizes readings and experience. It was difficult to narrate the experience with disability though because it means writing with all senses activated. I am not used to this kind of writing, being so aware of others and myself. Also, my pre-writing included making several drafts for the paper. The readings from Laborit, Nielsen, and Davis extended my thinking and writing because they talked about disability in different ways. I chose Laborit, for instance, because her experiences matched the little girl in my story. I like how she writes, so detailed and intimate. I like Davis because he offers a part of history of disability, while Nielsen talks about disability studies. They all provided academic information about disability that is related to the story. From my readers, I learned to include more suspense and intrigue in the introduction. The purpose of the introduction is to show, not tell. It should stimulate interest in the story in a creative way. I also learned from the first drafts of my peers, such as how they organized information and added important quotations. As for my draft, it needs more graphic details about the story and more flowing words. I am sure that I am doing my best to make the story interesting and have a lot of impact. It would help if you can focus your comments on the descriptiveness of my writing and the logic and interest value of my reflection. Finally, if I started this project all over again, I would have just focused on my personal disability experience. This would have made my story more emotional and intimate. Read More