From the newsroom of the Orlando Sentinel, Olando, Florida, Thursday,
January 27, 2005 .....
FACES & PLACES: SEARCHING FOR COMMUNITY IN CENTRAL FLORIDA
Deaf culture fades
E-mail and closed-caption television supplant deaf clubs as centers of the
community.
By Jeff Kunerth | Sentinel Staff Writer
In Philadelphia, where Jim Schooley grew up, there were four different deaf
clubs. They sponsored basketball and baseball teams. There were pool tables
and dart boards. During Christmas, a deaf Santa handed out presents to the
children.
The deaf clubs were the center of the deaf community, the portals through
which the deaf became indoctrinated into deaf culture.
Not any more. Throughout the nation, deaf clubs are on the decline. The
younger deaf are eschewing the deaf clubs of their parents for the Internet,
text-messaging and e-mail.
"There is a big fear we are going to lose deaf culture because of
technology," said Rosanne Trapani, coordinator of Deaf & Hard of Hearing
Services at Valencia Community College.
Those who consider themselves part of the deaf culture use American Sign
Language as their primary means of communication. Based on national studies
of the deaf who are proficient in sign language, the deaf community in
Florida is estimated at 38,400 people.
About a fifth of those -- 7,300 -- live in Central Florida.
But at the Orlando Club for the Deaf, which has been around since 1949,
membership numbers less than 30.
At a recent gathering, middle-aged and elderly deaf members sat at long
tables, eating egg-salad sandwiches and playing bingo. A strobe light
signaled the winner.
Efforts to expand the club's membership have been futile.
"We tried for the last three years to pull the youth in here, but when they
see the old people, it's not their thing. They can't relate," said club
historian Tim Wata, a 50-year-old Lockheed Martin engineer.
Schooley blames it on technology. Televisions come with closed-caption
devices. Hollywood movies can be ordered with "open caption" subtitles.
There is e-mail and Internet chat rooms for the deaf. A hand-held
text-messaging device is growing in popularity. And a new system called
video relay allows a deaf person to communicate visually with another deaf
person or interpreter through a TV set.
"Most of them stay home -- just like the hearing people," said Schooley, 70,
who worked in graphic arts.
Lost to the new technologies of e-mail and text-messaging are the emotions
and inflections of deaf communication. To watch two deaf people talking is
to witness an interpersonal silent movie that involves pantomime and
improvisation as much as hand signals. Eyes narrow. Shoulders shrug.
Eyebrows raise. Heads shake.
The traditions, customs and language of the deaf community are all visual.
American Sign Language, first formalized in 1817, is as much about body
language and facial expressions as it is hand gestures.
The essence of deaf culture remains face-to-face interaction. But the way
that interaction takes place is changing.
Instead of one club that is all things to all deaf people, the deaf
community in Orlando is divided into several groups. For some, it's the deaf
bowling league and softball teams. For others, it's the "coffee chats" at
Starbucks and the "silent dinners" in the mall food courts. And for others,
it's the deaf church ministries.
The desire to be with other deaf people is often served by deaf events -- a
performance by deaf poet Peter Cook; a revival by deaf evangelist Ronnie
Rice; the annual Deaf Fest, which last year drew 1,200 deaf people to the
Central Florida Fairgrounds; or Deaf Awareness Day set for July at Wet 'n
Wild.
Events and activities have replaced club membership in satisfying the
overriding desire among the deaf to be with other deaf people -- the sense
of belonging that comes only when you are with someone who understands
exactly who you are.
"Many of the deaf are so isolated. They can't talk to everybody, so if they
meet another deaf person, they are so hungry for conversation," said Debra
Jenkins, a deaf training specialist at the Center for Independent Living in
Winter Park.
Despite the communication technologies available to the deaf, it is still
direct contact that holds the community together.
"The unifying characteristic is deafness," Trapani said. "When they get
together, it's an all-night event. Time means nothing."
After every silent dinner or deaf club meeting or a night of friends getting
together for cards, there is a reluctance to leave the community of the deaf
for the world of the hearing.
"The deaf never leave," said Debbie Bennett, president of the Orlando Club
for the Deaf. "They stay and stay and stay. It's the deaf way."
January 27, 2005 .....
FACES & PLACES: SEARCHING FOR COMMUNITY IN CENTRAL FLORIDA
Deaf culture fades
E-mail and closed-caption television supplant deaf clubs as centers of the
community.
By Jeff Kunerth | Sentinel Staff Writer
In Philadelphia, where Jim Schooley grew up, there were four different deaf
clubs. They sponsored basketball and baseball teams. There were pool tables
and dart boards. During Christmas, a deaf Santa handed out presents to the
children.
The deaf clubs were the center of the deaf community, the portals through
which the deaf became indoctrinated into deaf culture.
Not any more. Throughout the nation, deaf clubs are on the decline. The
younger deaf are eschewing the deaf clubs of their parents for the Internet,
text-messaging and e-mail.
"There is a big fear we are going to lose deaf culture because of
technology," said Rosanne Trapani, coordinator of Deaf & Hard of Hearing
Services at Valencia Community College.
Those who consider themselves part of the deaf culture use American Sign
Language as their primary means of communication. Based on national studies
of the deaf who are proficient in sign language, the deaf community in
Florida is estimated at 38,400 people.
About a fifth of those -- 7,300 -- live in Central Florida.
But at the Orlando Club for the Deaf, which has been around since 1949,
membership numbers less than 30.
At a recent gathering, middle-aged and elderly deaf members sat at long
tables, eating egg-salad sandwiches and playing bingo. A strobe light
signaled the winner.
Efforts to expand the club's membership have been futile.
"We tried for the last three years to pull the youth in here, but when they
see the old people, it's not their thing. They can't relate," said club
historian Tim Wata, a 50-year-old Lockheed Martin engineer.
Schooley blames it on technology. Televisions come with closed-caption
devices. Hollywood movies can be ordered with "open caption" subtitles.
There is e-mail and Internet chat rooms for the deaf. A hand-held
text-messaging device is growing in popularity. And a new system called
video relay allows a deaf person to communicate visually with another deaf
person or interpreter through a TV set.
"Most of them stay home -- just like the hearing people," said Schooley, 70,
who worked in graphic arts.
Lost to the new technologies of e-mail and text-messaging are the emotions
and inflections of deaf communication. To watch two deaf people talking is
to witness an interpersonal silent movie that involves pantomime and
improvisation as much as hand signals. Eyes narrow. Shoulders shrug.
Eyebrows raise. Heads shake.
The traditions, customs and language of the deaf community are all visual.
American Sign Language, first formalized in 1817, is as much about body
language and facial expressions as it is hand gestures.
The essence of deaf culture remains face-to-face interaction. But the way
that interaction takes place is changing.
Instead of one club that is all things to all deaf people, the deaf
community in Orlando is divided into several groups. For some, it's the deaf
bowling league and softball teams. For others, it's the "coffee chats" at
Starbucks and the "silent dinners" in the mall food courts. And for others,
it's the deaf church ministries.
The desire to be with other deaf people is often served by deaf events -- a
performance by deaf poet Peter Cook; a revival by deaf evangelist Ronnie
Rice; the annual Deaf Fest, which last year drew 1,200 deaf people to the
Central Florida Fairgrounds; or Deaf Awareness Day set for July at Wet 'n
Wild.
Events and activities have replaced club membership in satisfying the
overriding desire among the deaf to be with other deaf people -- the sense
of belonging that comes only when you are with someone who understands
exactly who you are.
"Many of the deaf are so isolated. They can't talk to everybody, so if they
meet another deaf person, they are so hungry for conversation," said Debra
Jenkins, a deaf training specialist at the Center for Independent Living in
Winter Park.
Despite the communication technologies available to the deaf, it is still
direct contact that holds the community together.
"The unifying characteristic is deafness," Trapani said. "When they get
together, it's an all-night event. Time means nothing."
After every silent dinner or deaf club meeting or a night of friends getting
together for cards, there is a reluctance to leave the community of the deaf
for the world of the hearing.
"The deaf never leave," said Debbie Bennett, president of the Orlando Club
for the Deaf. "They stay and stay and stay. It's the deaf way."
