Every semester, I teach a Deaf Studies class that covers the basics—the history, physiology, socio-linguistics, education, and art and literature of deaf people in a kind of crash course. And every semester, somewhere along the way, my students get stuck in a time warp. “It’s terrible that deaf people were once discriminated against,” is a version of things they say a lot, as if audism were just another black and white photo of Helen Keller, or a villain from a fairy tale And while it’s true that in many ways discrimination against deaf and disabled people has improved across the global North, inclusion and access are not checkboxes we can just tick off. Access is a living, continuous need. So, in honor of my students, I present with some recent deaf fairy tale villains:

1. Once upon a time, my Good Author Friend* and I decided we wanted to do an event together, and reached out to Corporate Bookstore in our city. When GAF made contact, they said they’d be delighted to host us, and started making plans. When we requested an interpreter, they said they could not provide one. Maybe, they said, GAF should just come by themselves. Being a badass ally, did the legwork to procure an outside interpreter.
   
   Except, the day before, volunteer interpreter ghosted. We ended up hiring and agreeing to pay out of pocket for the interpreter at our event. Very luckily, a star one was willing and able to work on such short notice. The event went well. Deaf and disabled folks saw themselves in our work. Corporate Bookstore posted on their Instagram about how our conversation was a beacon of access and inclusion.

   

   
   *Annie is a complete badass. Buy their book and also check out this killer Atlantic piece from this week: T at 42.

2. Once upon a time, a large nonprofit organization with the self-stated mission of working “toward a future without discrimination where all people have equal rights under the law” by producing LGBTQIA+ Pride events, hired interpreters. They and the interpreting agency agreed on a three-year plan that would center certified deaf interpreters and allow deaf people to be in decision-making roles.
   
   Except it only took until year two until they began to cut the budget and break down communication channels, leaving deaf attendees without clear information about where access would be available, in some cases removing access completely. Without clear collaboration, direction or payment, the interpreting agency pulled out.
   

3. Once upon a time, I took my sons to see Inside Out 2. I arrived early to give my driver’s license to the teenaged child who is now de facto in charge of accessibility for this multimillion dollar corporation, in exchange for “caption glasses.” Caption glasses are bulky (especially over regular glasses) plastic rectangles that run light green LED captions across the bottom of the plastic. If you move your head the glasses and/or the captions go flying. If the movie is too light, you cannot read the captions against the brightness of the screen. I wore the batshit goggles in the theater, interpreting through the dark to my deaf child who is not old enough to read. I counted myself lucky, in that typically the glasses are not charged, or sometimes are broadcasting the captions of a totally different film, depending on the competence of the teenaged child who is de facto in charge of accessibility for this multimillion dollar corporation.

   When I wrote later online that I dreamed of a world where picture-in-picture ASL interpreting was available for children’s movies, (for whom the target audience largely cannot read) I received a complementary mansplain lesson about supply and demand. With deaf people as a minority, there was no way to make money off it; therefore, the idea was worthless.
   

4. Once upon a time, there was an unlikely hero in all this—the National Hockey League. (Really!) The NHL recently created a deaf access stream for the Stanley Cup Finals that went beyond most nondisabled people’s basic conceptions of access. While previous sports groups have offered out-of-sync ASL interpretation on streams separate from the action of the game (therefore requiring multiple devices and a lot of bandwidth), the NHL stream contained not only the game, but also two deaf hockey commentators, a visual volume representation of the ambient noise from the crowds, as well as emojis and avatars to visually underscore exciting game moments. The NHL stream reminds us what is possible when deaf people are actually included in the creation and provision of our own access. The NHL stream made me watch hockey.

In some ways, these instances are small because they relate to access to the arts and extracurriculars, to communities, rather than basic needs like healthcare and employment (though discrimination also remains in those areas!). In some ways these instances are big, because those of us in the arts and humanities tend to fancy ourselves open-minded and “inclusive,” and maybe need some reminding that the box is not yet checked, is not a box at all.

I’ll keep dreaming of a world where deaf kids can watch and understand movies alongside their families. I’ll keep dreaming of a world where monetary gain isn’t the singular measure of a person or idea’s worth. But even if we can rope ladder our way over the wall, actual inclusion can’t happen without work from the people on the other side. To make it a reality, it may have to become some of your dreams, too.