First Issue of The Tactile Mind Weekly

THE TACTILE MIND WEEKLY #1
22 April 2003

To subscribe, go to: http://four.pairlist.net/mailman/listinfo/weekly

CONTENTS

~From the Publisher: John Lee Clark
~On Hand with Trudy Suggs
~Belfast Graffiti: Shane Ó hEorpa
~Man on the Street: Christopher Jon Heuer
~Coffee Shop Notes: Sara Stallard
~The Significance of Reality: Adrean Clark
~A Crossroads and an Impasse: Shane Feldman
~Palm Lines: Raymond Luczak
~Readings


*****
FROM THE PUBLISHER

Sign hey, readers:

Welcome to the inaugural number of THE TACTILE MIND WEEKLY, a free 
e-zine of the signing community. It is my hope that TTMW will help to 
elevate our community's discourse in ways leading to higher cultural 
knowledge for us and more refined awareness for others.

This debut issue of TTMW is rather long for an e-zine issue, but all 
involved are excited and wish to make a big first impression.

While many of the slots in each issue will be maintained by regular 
columnists, we accept contributions from non-regulars.

Direct all correspondence related to this publication to 
creative@thetactilemind.com.

Please feel free to pass on TTMW by word of hand, by discussing its 
contents and forwarding it to people you believe will enjoy it. Hoping 
that you will find reading TTMW a fulfilling experience, I am

John Lee Clark, Publisher
The Tactile Mind Press
http://www.thetactilemind.com


*****
ON HAND WITH TRUDY SUGGS

Deaf Expo and DeafWorldWide are having shows in Philadelphia within 
weeks of each other this summer. Newcomer DeafBuy isn't far behind, 
running to catch up by offering free admission at its shows. Whose 
bright idea was this?

When I went to one of those "trade shows," my enjoyable day consisted 
of standing around and chatting with friends, completely oblivious to 
the skits and presentations taking place. The brochures I picked up 
that day ended up in the trash can the next day. Besides, there are 
only so many free pens a person can take home (unless you're my 
stepfather, then you take every freebie you can get. . . every single 
freebie).

Why are these companies trying to compete with each other instead of 
actually focusing on what's the most beneficial for the deaf community? 
Are they really trying to provide venues for information exchange or 
are they trying to turn a profit? I don't know, but I do know what a 
Philadelphian said: "I ain't gonna look at the same booths twice. Waste 
of time."


*****
BELFAST GRAFFITI
The Writing on the Wall
Shane Ó hEorpa

BRUSSELS: Helga Stevens, a Deaf sign language user and the CEO of the 
European Union of the Deaf, is selected to stand for a seat at the 18 
May 2003 elections for the Belgian Senate, the upper chamber of the 
federal Belgian Parliament. Her Party is Nieuw-Vlaamse Alliantie (New 
Flemish Alliance). Her seat would cover the Flanders, Belgium's 
Dutch-speaking northern State.

Through this Stevens can target Deaf people and their families and 
allies all over the Flanders, instead of limiting herself to one 
provincial district.

This announcement has received enormous and positive media attention; 
she appeared on television and in newspapers in one of European Union's 
smallest member-states whose population is about 10 million.

More details (in Dutch) at: http://www.n-va.be


*****
MAN ON THE STREET
Christopher Jon Heuer

Statues and Stereotypes

I am not a big fan of the Alice Cogswell statue.

You know the one. It stands out in front of Gallaudet University, with 
Tom sitting in his chair finger-spelling an 'A' to a certain little 
girl named Alice. For a hundred and fifty-odd years, his hand has never 
lowered, and her face has never lost its awestruck expression.

As a writer and an English teacher I can tell you that stereotypes have 
a longer shelf life if they are picture-friendly. Every science-fiction 
novel you pick up in Waldenbooks. . . what's on the cover? A 
mean-looking space pilot in silver tights. Every romance novel? Fabio's 
nipples brushing against those of a swooning Southern belle.

Stereotypes are not answers. They are not even reasonably decent 
definitions. Not every science-fiction novel is about a space pilot in 
silver tights. Not every romance novel has a hero who looks like Fabio.

Not everything related to deafness has something to do with sign 
language. Not every savior is Hearing. Deaf people are capable of 
expressing a range of emotions. After a hundred and fifty-odd years of 
the same 'A' being thrust forward as an answer to everything, the last 
expression you should expect to see on our faces is one of dumbstruck 
wonder.

I am not opposed to historical treasures. If that statue represents a 
part of our unique heritage, so be it. But if it ever becomes a 
stereotype used to define us, watch out. When we talk about audism, 
don't flash an 'A' in our faces. Depression and isolation among Deaf 
children? That 'A' isn't doing the job anymore.

Come up with something else.


*****
COFFEE SHOP NOTES
Sara Stallard

View the artwork this article discusses at 
http://www.thetactilemind.com/TTMWeekly/manny.html

A love for the natural shows up in Manny Vazquez's sculptural form. The 
swelling contours of his miniature figure work reflect upon the fleshy 
and earthly quality of the human body, which is the object of his focus.

Manny sculpts these 5-inch figures with his bare hands. He uses the 
balls of his fingers to manipulate the clay into smooth shapes, and 
employs a minimum of cut-away techniques to create defining features 
such as the belly button and the eyes. There is an abundance of 
expression within his deceptively simple work--the large proportion of 
the head to the body and offset posture create a child-like quality.

While the arms are absent, the stomach is engorged and its fat bugles 
around the middle, echoing the slouch of the figure's bell-bottom 
pants. The hair is real. Manny succeeds in infusing ceramic form with 
organic life.

MANNY VAZQUEZ is an artist and a fashion maven when he is not working 
or at the fore edge of action in Washington DC's Deaf and Gay 
communities, such as emceeing in Drag at Rock Festival 2002, 
participating in pageants, or giving workshops on safe sex to college 
students, as well as leading the weekend's club entourage with his 
splendid plumage.


*****
THE SIGNIFIANCE OF REALITY
Humor by Adrean Clark

The hearing vice president of a company being bought out by a 
Deaf-owned company crams in ASL to save his job, but loses it anyway 
when an attempt to wish "Good Morning" goes awry.

Having a desire to cash in on a derivative from the lucrative lipstick 
business, a Deaf woman invents designer elbow-length gloves for ASL 
users. The spring line includes a variety of styles, of which a leopard 
print and a techno-conscious design incorporating pockets for pagers 
will be unveiled.

The NBA attempts shadow interpreting at a Timberwolves game. One of the 
interpreters is fired after accidentally dunking in the opponents' 
basket.

It is discovered that the "other deaf people" in the sentiment "I can 
read and understand this, but what about other deaf people?" are 
actually living on a deserted island off the coast of Greenland.


*****
A CROSSROADS AND AN IMPASSE
Shane Feldman

These antonyms define the dilemma that grips our deaf community. We 
pull our nexus towards bewildering directions in the face of imminent 
danger. It is a peril that we feign to comprehend but conveniently 
ignore.

When confronted with a looming demise with no chance for flight-fight 
to an uncertain end or accept and quietly perish. Our reaction to this 
panic will define our quality of life and our legacy.

It has been said time and time again that our community will vanish.

Some blame our eventual demise on Cochlear Implants, an unfounded fear. 
A deaf person with a CI is still a DEAF person. We do not call deaf 
people with CIs hearing people. The CI scare will join the hearing-aid 
scare of the past as crises that came to pass.

However, genetic engineering has brought the deaf community to an 
impasse. This technology can transform deaf people into hearing people. 
Genetic engineering poses some disturbing quandaries.

In Michigan, the state wanted to implant two children who were wards of 
the state despite the parent's objections. The deaf community rallied, 
enraged that the state would take away parental rights. But are we 
hypocrites if we rally against genetic engineering, arguing that a deaf 
child is a member of our community, therefore has a right to exist?

Do the parents have the right to make their own decisions? Would you 
support imposed decisions on your child's genetic makeup? If hearing 
people may consider it criminal to make a hearing child deaf, why isn't 
it being argued conversely? With 90% of deaf children born to hearing 
parents, will we lose our population if we compromise?

Bioethics hinges on the influences of powerful organizations, 
businesses, and people jockeying for their own interests. Where does 
our community fit in? What are our opinions?

Discussing the issues NOW does not necessarily put the cart before the 
horse, for the horse has long galloped away. Before genetic engineering 
is perfected, our community has an uphill battle against a society that 
persecutes, marginalizes, and oppresses us. These are not esoteric 
issues; everyone must begin and engage in dialogue. . . now.

At this crossroads, the decision is ours. Fight or perish.


*****
PALM LINES
Raymond Luczak

Chapter One of LANSEL, a novel-in-progress (NOTE: More installments 
will appear in successive TTMW numbers.)

"You lie finish."

She stared at me as I picked up the last of my suitcases and walked out 
the door of our house. I pushed them into the trunk of my car. She 
stood there, shivering in the cool evening wind, looking more beautiful 
than ever with her tight jeans and a V-neck pink cashmere sweater. If I 
hadn't known what she really was like, I'd have fallen in love with her 
all over again. Easily. Her eyes were those of a siren's, beckoning me 
back into her world of darkness and madness.

We had been married for not even a year, but I kept telling myself: She 
was the one who lied, not I. We had met a year ago at one of the 
basketball tournaments at the Lansel School of the Deaf; I had been 
divorced for a few years, and I was there with Dale Burton, my best 
buddy in town. Dale's son was on the Lansel team, and there she stood 
across the court. She was wearing a designer parka with its hood lined 
with mink fur, and she was waving to me.

The tight game--Olney High, a hearing high school a two-hour trip away, 
was leading by ten points--suddenly felt inconsequential.

At least that was what I thought she was doing until I saw whom she was 
waving to.

I turned around and saw Robert Biggles, the football coach at Lansel. 
He was short, squat, and moustached like a walrus. I had known Robert 
slightly, but I felt comfortable enough to ask him later who that woman 
was after Lansel won against Olney High, 112 to 95. His eyes strayed 
carefully away from hers. He was, of course, married.

"Angela Marstone," he fingerspelled before he glanced around to see 
where she was. "Don't mess with her finish."

I turned around to look for her, and there she was. She had thick lips 
that begged to be kissed and savored. More than that, her eyes had a 
fire that flared out of nowhere, and it was burning like a geyser for 
me. Her eyes never swayed from mine as she walked across the court.

I don't think we even noticed Robert removing himself as we made small 
talk. It turned out that she was a third-generation deaf woman from 
north of Lansel. She seemed pleased that I had grown up with hearing 
parents, and that I was the new counselor at Lansel. As the janitor 
swept onto the court with his wide mop, I looked up at her. "Introduce 
myself finish?"

She laughed. "Funny how strangers deaf bab-bab-bab before name 
introduce."

I felt warm inside. "Me name A-l-a-n W-o-r-x." My name sign is the 
letter "A" in the sign for "work." I added, "Last name sound like 
'w-o-r-k-s.' Yours?"

"A-n-g-e-l-a M-a-r-s-t-o-n-e," she said, adding her name sign as in an 
"A" hitting her fist as in the sign for "stone."

She looked up at me and smiled. "Funny how name sign yours mine almost 
similar."

We gazed into each other's eyes, laughing and carrying on. It was so 
thrilling to feel able to talk to a woman so easily without feeling 
that constant shadow of the code of ethics that all counselors are to 
follow.

I felt a hand clasp my shoulder firmly. "What?"

It was Robert. "Excuse me," he said to Angela. "Alan-me whisper-private 
must."

We went to the hallway around the corner from the locker room. "Angela 
bad n-e-w-s. Almost destroyed my-marriage. Angela come here? My wife 
not come. That why my wife not here. Don't involve Angela finish." 
Robert's eyes were full of warning.

As I left for the basketball court, I found her standing alone by the 
folded bleachers pushed against the brick walls. People kept a certain 
distance away from her. I think in that moment of weakness, I felt both 
desire and pity for her. Little did I know that as I approached her, 
the game of love we were about to play would be far nastier than any 
basketball game I'd ever seen.

http://www.raymondluczak.com


*****
READINGS

 From BROKEN SPOKES: A PLAY IN SEVEN SCENES by Willy Conley 
http://www.thetactilemind.com/books (NOTE: The formatting in this 
excerpt differs from that found in the book.)

WESTON: That's you... ooohhh, and what's in this little bag? (REBECCA 
snatches it away.) C'mon, what is it?

REBECCA: Pack, tiger.

WESTON: Something else for the bike shop? (REBECCA shakes her head.) 
Something for our new apartment? (REBECCA shakes her head.) Something 
for after we get married? (Growls and takes a swipe at her, trying to 
maul her in an affectionate way.)

(JACKSON walks in and casually helps himself to a can of Coke from the 
refrigerator. He watches.)

REBECCA: Something we will work in--in our bike shop.

WESTON: Gloves!

(REBECCA pulls out two cycle caps and puts them on WESTON and herself. 
He hugs and kisses her.)

WESTON (Sees JACKSON.) Aaahhh!

JACKSON: Hey, West. Working hard?

WESTON: What're you doing here?

JACKSON: I live here, remember?

WESTON: Not any more. What's the matter with your new apartment?

JACKSON: What's up, Bec? You're lookin' good.

WESTON: Did you put up that bookshelf for Mom and Dad yet?

JACKSON: Did I come at a bad time?

REBECCA: What's it look like?

JACKSON: Looks like a good time to me. Except most people take their 
clothes off. I remember you used to do that pretty good, Bec.

WESTON: What are you talking about? (No response.) Rebecca, what's he 
talking about?

REBECCA: Oh, he just has diarrhea of the mouth.

JACKSON: Oho, good one, Bec-babe, good one. Don't forget our. . . 
(About to say something obscene but instead uses facial expressions and 
gestures something obscene in an obscure way.)

WESTON: What's going on here?

JACKSON: Hey--I just came over to check up on how your move's coming 
along. I see you move pretty quick, hahaha. She slowin' you down?

WESTON: We're taking a break, all right? Thanks for helping out.

JACKSON: Hey, I already did my share.

WESTON: Yeah, you moved out your clothes.

JACKSON: Wow, where did this sign come from?

WESTON: (Kisses REBECCA.) My fiancée made it.

JACKSON: A social worker? Impossible, they don't know what to do with 
their hands.

REBECCA: I sure--

WESTON: Jack, why're you here?

REBECCA: What skills do you have, you dumb turkey? (Combines the sign 
"dumb" with the graphic sign for "turkey"--"dumb" handshape goes 
against the palm of a "five" handshape.)

JACKSON: You've--ahem--forgotten my skills?

http://www.thetactilemind.com/books


*****
THE TACTILE MIND WEEKLY Copyright © 2003. All rights reserved. THE 
TACTILE MIND WEEKLY is a free e-zine of the signing community, 
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