April 28, 2022

The Future of the Deaf Community Belongs to You

Sara Nović, author of True Biz, on her hope that the hearing world will see what we all share

The Future of the Deaf Community Belongs to You

Sara Nović, author of True Biz, on her hope that the hearing world will see what we all share

In these whirlwind days since the release of True Biz, a lot of people have asked me whether there will be a sequel. Sometimes, they say, they’ve so enjoyed their time with these characters that they simply wish there was more to see and do (thank you!). Most of the time, though, readers want closure. And I get it—as readers, we often turn to fiction as a means of escape from our own chaotic worlds, and there is pleasure in seeing the proverbial giftwrap bow at the end of a book. I empathize with that, and yet—there is very clearly no bow at the end of this novel. Because the future of the deaf community belongs to you.

The medical world and the media approach deafness as a binary—in their view, one must either choose to assimilate via surgery or choose the deaf community, sign language, and isolation from the “real world.” But the choice is a false one, a failure of the hearing imagination. There’s no reason a deaf person must pick between assistive technology and having a culture and community of their own—we can have both, just as any number of multicultural or bilingual hearing people can, and do.

Deaf and disabled advocates work tirelessly to raise awareness and push back against ableist systems, policies, and cultural norms. But when it comes down to it, there are far more hearing people in the world than there are deaf ones. Your behaviors, needs, and wants dictate what society considers “normal.” Over 90% of deaf children are born to hearing parents, and only 8% of those parents ever learn enough American Sign Language (ASL) to hold a conversation with their child. The reasons for this are manifold, but the outcome is the same: the hearing world is right now, and often unwittingly, deciding whether deaf culture and sign language will continue to exist. If recent advances in gene and stem cell therapy are also to proceed unchecked, deaf people will cease to exist entirely.

I could list the benefits of allowing deaf people and deaf culture to continue—the beauty of sign language; the powerful art, writing, and theater we create; the critical thinking and problem-solving skills that come naturally to a community on the margins; the innovative technological and scientific advances to which we’ve contributed. But it is my hope that the characters of True Biz have made a different kind of case for us: that we deserve to exist because we are equally human. Like you, we laugh, cry, bleed, have sex, raise families, make mistakes, and feel love. There is nothing more universally human than the desire to be understood, and it’s my hope that the hearing world will see what we all share, and embrace deafness as just one more aspect of what makes us as people interesting, diverse, and strong.

What happens to a place like River Valley School for the Deaf, or to kids like Charlie, Austin, Eliot, and Kayla after the final pages of this book? It’s up to you.