How Twitter Empowered a Deaf Writer
Tired of answering ridiculous questions, Sara Novic raised her voice on Twitter.
Photo courtesy of Sara Novic
Are you allowed to get married? Do you read Braille? Do your ears get cold in winter?
As a deaf person, I'm sorry to say I've fielded all these questions. The hearing world's prevailing ignorance has always irritated me, but one night several years ago I reached my limit. I was at a party in New York, in a warm apartment bustling with writers having smart conversations, when I found myself having a not-so-smart one. After politely replying—yes, my ears get cold; they're attached to my head—I went up to the roof and cried. The next day, I joined Twitter.
I wanted to raise the hearing world's awareness, so I tweeted fact sheets about deafness and sign language. I also found a huge number of fellow deaf people. Slowly, Twitter transformed from a soapbox to a home base where I could chat with people like me—swapping jokes about stupid questions, spreading sign language poetry and webcasts and music videos.
Then last year, after The New York Daily News interviewed a hearing actress who was playing a deaf character—the latest example of Hollywood's practice of shutting out deaf actors—the deaf community on Twitter rose up in protest. Eventually we got #DeafTalent trending, which landed us at a roundtable hosted by the National Endowment for the Arts. In a New York conference room, we talked about how to support deaf actors, writers, and artists. It was exhilarating to see a discussion of deaf art coming from real live fingertips. I wasn't far from that rooftop of several years ago, but now I felt understood—and the ridiculous questions of old were nowhere to be found.
As a deaf person, I'm sorry to say I've fielded all these questions. The hearing world's prevailing ignorance has always irritated me, but one night several years ago I reached my limit. I was at a party in New York, in a warm apartment bustling with writers having smart conversations, when I found myself having a not-so-smart one. After politely replying—yes, my ears get cold; they're attached to my head—I went up to the roof and cried. The next day, I joined Twitter.
I wanted to raise the hearing world's awareness, so I tweeted fact sheets about deafness and sign language. I also found a huge number of fellow deaf people. Slowly, Twitter transformed from a soapbox to a home base where I could chat with people like me—swapping jokes about stupid questions, spreading sign language poetry and webcasts and music videos.
Then last year, after The New York Daily News interviewed a hearing actress who was playing a deaf character—the latest example of Hollywood's practice of shutting out deaf actors—the deaf community on Twitter rose up in protest. Eventually we got #DeafTalent trending, which landed us at a roundtable hosted by the National Endowment for the Arts. In a New York conference room, we talked about how to support deaf actors, writers, and artists. It was exhilarating to see a discussion of deaf art coming from real live fingertips. I wasn't far from that rooftop of several years ago, but now I felt understood—and the ridiculous questions of old were nowhere to be found.
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