A Deaf ally is a specific term used within the Deaf community which distinguishes someone from a friend of our community to a more trusted and respected position within it.

I like to think most people would probably consider themselves an ally to most communities, but a Deaf ally is really someone specific. 

A Deaf ally is a hearing person who not only supports, advocates, and partners with the Deaf community but also actively promotes and models accessibility and inclusion.

In addition to this, and distinctively, a Deaf ally does not speak for Deaf individuals. Rather, an ally uses their privilege and platform to uplift Deaf voices, while respecting Deaf culture and language. 

Well, that’s a lot, huh?

Not really.  We just get wordy about it because people still categorize themselves as an ally without thinking about it too much and then go do something an ally would not.

So we get specific.

 

My First Deaf Ally

As a Deaf kid in a hearing mainstream setting, I’d get bullied periodically. Not that there’s ever a good reason to be bullied, there were various things about me that made me more targetable: I was chubby, sensitive, wore glasses, and wore a hearing aid that was pretty obvious. The kids knew about the hearing aid, poked fun at me every chance they got, but never connected what I was: Deaf. 

One day, a kid I knew peripherally flagged me down, signing, “Come sit with me.”  The kid had Deaf friends that went to a different school and had learned sign from them.  The kid’s friends had Deaf parents and it was really fun to hang out at their house.  The kid said I should come sometime. 

That kid was my first Deaf ally.

When I had lunch with my new friend, we would sign in ASL.  At first, other kids would snicker, but when we saw them do that, we’d also laugh. It didn’t bother us because we knew they were ignorant.  After awhile, some of the other kids joined us for lunch where they’d learn some sign from us. Any questions about ASL or Deafness, the kid would direct them to me. One of them told me they thought my purple hearing aid was cool and they wished they had one.

The ally-kid, who had other Deaf friends, witnessed Deaf family dynamics and had experienced being the only hearing person among Deaf ASL signers, understood Deaf people as their equals–they just used a different language.  They felt honored to be learning it so authentically from them. They understood they were newer to it and would never dream of speaking about ASL or Deaf people from an authoritative stance, or speaking over them. 

As an ASL user and Deaf ally, they also saw an opportunity to widen their circle to me, knowing most people do not accept Deaf people as peers. 

This is allyship. 

Alas, in my case, my ally was just a dream. 

But I held onto this person in my mind, knowing they must exist. 

I was right. They do.

 

Why Deaf Allies Are Important

 

If you are studying ASL and the accompanying Deaf culture and history, you know that Deaf people have been on quite a journey. From the earliest records of the American Deaf community in Martha’s Vineyard in the 1700s, we’ve ridden through high points such as the advent of ASL and the formation of the first Deaf school in 1817 and the resulting “golden age of ASL” to the devastating consequences of the Milan Conference in 1880, which sought to eradicate ASL and produced century-long ramifications to our education and livelihoods.

The 1960s to the present represent a resurgence in Deaf power with the invention of telecommunication technologies such as the TTY, then videophones and smartphones giving us greater accessibility than ever before. Legal wins in the IDEA, the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 and the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 made it so that Deaf people had equal access to education and reasonable accommodations in public services. Further legislation required captioning on televisions. Societal wins came through the Deaf President Now movement as well as recognition in the arts helped to increase the Deaf community’s visibility and autonomy.  

Still, we are marginalized by audism, language deprivation, and outright discrimination. So much work is left to do.

None of those victories happened because Deaf people fought alone.

Many hearing people stood beside us. Not in front of us. Beside us.

That’s what a Deaf ally does.

Hearing allies often have access to rooms we aren’t in yet. They may notice barriers we can’t see from the inside or have influence in places where Deaf people still struggle to be heard.

That’s a powerful position. Used well, it opens doors.

But even with the best intentions, it can close them.

 

So.. How Can You Be a Good Deaf Ally?

A good Deaf ally provides access without taking away the Deaf person’s agency.

In other words, a good ally stands with a person ensuring they get the same good spot and protection they do.  They don’t grab a Deaf person and fireman-carry ’em around while screaming about a fire. 

Most people are trying to help. But knowing how capable, strong and resilient the Deaf community is, it can be hard to know where the lines are in terms of uplifting a community and hurting them. 

I’ll be honest, sometimes that line is really thin. 

Like many things involving our community, it comes down to who keeps the decision-making power. 

When you’re on the fence, you can ask yourself:

Does this give the Deaf person more control over their own life…or less?

Here’s some examples of good Deaf allyship:

Provides Access

These are the “common sense” things Deaf allies do.

• Ask if an ASL Interpreter is needed
• Use text, email or messaging 
• Turn the captions on your TV, caption your own videos
• Write messages down on paper or use your phone
• Point, be visible, face the Deaf person when speaking
• Use ASL if you know it
• Get someone’s attention respectfully

 

Doesn’t Replace Deaf Voices

These are the “oops” we see a little more–often by well-meaning ally-ists:

• Speaking for us without including us – “she’ll have the tuna salad” – waitress came by while I’m still looking at the menu.  I look up, you’ve ordered for me and the waitress is gone.
  
• Speaking about us without including us – explaining to another hearing person about “the deaf” while I’m sitting right there, yo.
  
• Automatically making a hearing person to be in charge of something – hearing does not = qualified.
  
• Gatekeeping communication – insisting a deaf person sits with the only other signer in the room. If asked, we’re probably cool with it, but like everyone else, we may have preferences. Also, sometimes we want to meet other people too. Access shouldn’t become control.

 

Respect Deaf Ownership of ASL and Deaf Culture

Learning ASL is awesome, seriously. We love seeing people learn it.

But learning ASL and representing the Deaf community are two different things.

ASL is the language of a cultural and linguistic minority. Learning that language is a privilege–it isn’t ownership. Good allies recognize that difference.

That means they don’t: 

• position themselves as experts because they’ve taken classes or hang out with Deaf people.
• become the public authority on what Deaf people are like.
• build an audience explaining Deaf culture while Deaf people struggle to be seen.

 

Whenever possible, point people toward Deaf teachers, Deaf creators, Deaf businesses, and Deaf organizations.

That’s allyship!

 

Create Opportunities, Not Tokenism 

Allies often want to give Deaf people opportunities with access, which is fab-u-lous.  We advocate for that, making space for Deaf people where there normally would not be.  That’s inclusive and really, really nice.

Scholarships, business offers and partnerships, as well as friends embarking on creative ventures are exciting opportunities for everyone.

When Deaf people respond to that opportunity, you know you’ve spoken to a real need and will get someone who is not only qualified but will passionately pursue the opportunity.

However, sometimes well-meaning hearing allies seek to create a vision entirely around an unknown Deaf person’s involvement. Sort of a “Build it And They’ll Come” scenario. Unfortunately that has the potential to veer into tokenism, so care should be taken to avoid it.

If an idea is conceived without Deaf involvement, and the Deaf community is not responding, as a Deaf ally you may want to ask yourself these questions:

• Were Deaf people involved from the beginning?
• Was this responding to a request or solving an actual need?
• Or was it solving a problem hearing people imagined we had?

 

The best inclusion doesn’t happen because hearing people were inspired by Deaf people.

It happens because Deaf people helped shape it from the very beginning.

 

Be Willing to Learn

The best Deaf allies I know have learned how to be one in real time. I mean, you can study and prepare, but you can’t be prepared for everything. You just have to clarify your perspective and.. get out there.

Because guess what? Eventually..

You’re going to say something awkward, misunderstand something, miss an accessibility issue, or other things that wouldn’t faze me.

The difference isn’t whether you make a mistake, it’s what you do next.

Listen. Ask questions. Adjust. Keep showing up.

 

Don’t Be a Hero, Just Be an Ally

In my dream, my first Deaf ally was a bit of a hero to me because their small invitation saved me from the oppression I was (really) facing. But from their perspective, they were just including me and thought it was neat to be able to use ASL at school too. In reality, being a Deaf ally is something you demonstrate over time. 

We don’t need you to be our hero. Just be an ally.

Being one is easier than you think. Know when to step forward. Know when to step back.

The best Deaf allies don’t want the spotlight.

They want to make sure Deaf people have the opportunity to stand in it, too.

Next: What Is a CODA? Understanding the Real Experience of Children of Deaf Adults