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Island woman finds her true voice - Staten Island Real-Time News - SILive.com
Every year, thousands of young people go to college to discover who they are and who they want to be.
For Staten Islander Lakshmi "Sasha" Ponappa, self-realization meant finding her true voice -- which she accomplished without being able to hear others speak.
Ms. Ponappa, born deaf, recently received her master's degree in social work from Gallaudet University in Washington, a renowned school for the deaf and hard-of-hearing.
At 25, the Willowbrook woman is searching for a job, just like so many others fresh out of graduate school, but she is also taking pride in her accomplishments: Most notably, she was chosen by her class to deliver the commencement address.
"I came to Gallaudet with an insular understanding of things, but ... my understanding of ... empowerment, advocacy and social change has widened," Ponappa said in her speech. Life, she said later, "is not so much the choices that we can make, as much as it is the freedom to make choices and the freedom to be heard."
These themes reflect her experiences growing up, and growing from being deaf in a hearing world. Her words were poignant, delivered through American Sign Language (ASL), her preferred method of communication, which she first learned at college.
No one knew that Ms. Ponappa was deaf until she was 2 years old, after her family moved to Staten Island from Bangalore, India. From then on, her education was focused on teaching her how to communicate through speaking and interpreting other people's speech.
Though the Board of Education provided services that helped her thrive academically in mainstream classrooms, they did not help her socially: "It was difficult to learn social cues, to freely participate in conversations."
Her confidence took flight when she left home for college at the National Technical Institute for the Deaf at Rochester (N.Y.) Institute for Technology, a school with over 1,000 deaf and hard-of-hearing students within the larger university.
"Not until college did I ever consider myself a part of a deaf community [or feel a] connection to the history of challenges ... that deaf people have gone through to get us where we are today," Ms. Ponappa said.
Her integration was made possible, in large part, through learning ASL, which she calls "a real language, with its own grammar, syntax, facial expressions, and gestures."
On a basic level, communication became easier: With sign language, words and their meanings no longer fell through the cracks, as they often did in lip-reading. The worry of being lost -- or losing someone else -- in translation was also a burden lifted from Ms. Ponappa's shoulders.
On a deeper level, ASL provided a jolt of empowerment. It led her to question the environment in which she was raised and the way she was educated.
"Ninety-five percent of deaf children are born into hearing families, so we do not have adults who understand what it's like," Ms. Ponappa explained. "In the deaf community, there's respect for the need to be a holistic human being. For many people, being deaf in the hearing world is fine because they are mainstreamed like everyone else, but it's not fine for everyone. Any person involved in a deaf child's life needs to be open to offering that child different options for communication."
According to Gallaudet University, roughly two to four out of every 1,000 Americans are "functionally deaf," which means that Ms. Ponappa joins approximately 1,000 to 2,000 Staten Islanders faced with the disability.
Back home for the time being, she visited the Advance office for this interview, where she was asked questions through an interpreter's signed translations. Though she made a passing reference to a "speech impediment," her voice was remarkably clear and expressive as she spoke her responses.
When asked about her postgraduate plans, Ms. Ponappa said she hopes to continue the kind of work she has done in her internships, incorporating her passions for social justice and deaf activism. She is especially committed to advocating on behalf of deaf individuals--primarily women--who have been victims of domestic and sexual violence.
"There is a great deal of need for advocacy, to break down barriers, to help these people reclaim their lives," Ms. Ponappa said. She pointed out that domestic violence is as prevalent in the deaf community as it is in the hearing community, but dealing with it needs more attention and funding.
Having experienced her own awakening, Ms. Ponappa is now inspired to help others: "In the deaf culture movement, the older generation helped get us where we are today," she said. "Now it's up to us to make changes happen."
Every year, thousands of young people go to college to discover who they are and who they want to be.
For Staten Islander Lakshmi "Sasha" Ponappa, self-realization meant finding her true voice -- which she accomplished without being able to hear others speak.
Ms. Ponappa, born deaf, recently received her master's degree in social work from Gallaudet University in Washington, a renowned school for the deaf and hard-of-hearing.
At 25, the Willowbrook woman is searching for a job, just like so many others fresh out of graduate school, but she is also taking pride in her accomplishments: Most notably, she was chosen by her class to deliver the commencement address.
"I came to Gallaudet with an insular understanding of things, but ... my understanding of ... empowerment, advocacy and social change has widened," Ponappa said in her speech. Life, she said later, "is not so much the choices that we can make, as much as it is the freedom to make choices and the freedom to be heard."
These themes reflect her experiences growing up, and growing from being deaf in a hearing world. Her words were poignant, delivered through American Sign Language (ASL), her preferred method of communication, which she first learned at college.
No one knew that Ms. Ponappa was deaf until she was 2 years old, after her family moved to Staten Island from Bangalore, India. From then on, her education was focused on teaching her how to communicate through speaking and interpreting other people's speech.
Though the Board of Education provided services that helped her thrive academically in mainstream classrooms, they did not help her socially: "It was difficult to learn social cues, to freely participate in conversations."
Her confidence took flight when she left home for college at the National Technical Institute for the Deaf at Rochester (N.Y.) Institute for Technology, a school with over 1,000 deaf and hard-of-hearing students within the larger university.
"Not until college did I ever consider myself a part of a deaf community [or feel a] connection to the history of challenges ... that deaf people have gone through to get us where we are today," Ms. Ponappa said.
Her integration was made possible, in large part, through learning ASL, which she calls "a real language, with its own grammar, syntax, facial expressions, and gestures."
On a basic level, communication became easier: With sign language, words and their meanings no longer fell through the cracks, as they often did in lip-reading. The worry of being lost -- or losing someone else -- in translation was also a burden lifted from Ms. Ponappa's shoulders.
On a deeper level, ASL provided a jolt of empowerment. It led her to question the environment in which she was raised and the way she was educated.
"Ninety-five percent of deaf children are born into hearing families, so we do not have adults who understand what it's like," Ms. Ponappa explained. "In the deaf community, there's respect for the need to be a holistic human being. For many people, being deaf in the hearing world is fine because they are mainstreamed like everyone else, but it's not fine for everyone. Any person involved in a deaf child's life needs to be open to offering that child different options for communication."
According to Gallaudet University, roughly two to four out of every 1,000 Americans are "functionally deaf," which means that Ms. Ponappa joins approximately 1,000 to 2,000 Staten Islanders faced with the disability.
Back home for the time being, she visited the Advance office for this interview, where she was asked questions through an interpreter's signed translations. Though she made a passing reference to a "speech impediment," her voice was remarkably clear and expressive as she spoke her responses.
When asked about her postgraduate plans, Ms. Ponappa said she hopes to continue the kind of work she has done in her internships, incorporating her passions for social justice and deaf activism. She is especially committed to advocating on behalf of deaf individuals--primarily women--who have been victims of domestic and sexual violence.
"There is a great deal of need for advocacy, to break down barriers, to help these people reclaim their lives," Ms. Ponappa said. She pointed out that domestic violence is as prevalent in the deaf community as it is in the hearing community, but dealing with it needs more attention and funding.
Having experienced her own awakening, Ms. Ponappa is now inspired to help others: "In the deaf culture movement, the older generation helped get us where we are today," she said. "Now it's up to us to make changes happen."