Where Do You Fit In?

By: CaspHer

Feb 22, 2018

Question:

Where do you fit in, exactly?

Lately, I have been on a few radio/broadcasting shows and have been talking about all of the projects that I’ve been involved with. I am booked to talk to a much younger group of people who are blind and visually impaired about confidence and fitting in with groups.

In actuality, anyone who knows me a bit better than most people already know that I do not and have not ever sought to fit into any group or crowd. I have enjoyed being on the outskirts of everything from early on in life. In fact, I am comfortable with not “belonging” to any group or crowd at all. There are some or millions of people who drive themselves crazy trying to fit into someplace that wants nothing to do with them, the only way they’d realize they aren’t wanted is by being rejected harshly.

Originally from Miami Florida and raised in Boston, Massachusetts identifying as deaf blind and never having contact with anyone who lived with sensory challenges from birth until I was 24. I am 28 years old now and have learned a lot about my peers within the blind and deaf community. In respects to the adaptation to the blindness training and sign language, those parts of my life have developed as they should, I have adjusted to access to information around me.

Someone asked me if I feel like I fit into any group or community of people with disabilities and my answer was that I did not. I do not feel as though I belong to the blind or deaf and hard of hearing community. I can learn to communicate effectively but I will never have ownership of that sense of “belonging” because I was without that exposure for most of my life. I sometimes feel like I am intruding on all communities of people with or without disabilities. I am far too comfortable not being included and realize that it requires too much effort to prove if I am worthy of being part of a community of some kind.

I know my worth and would not need to seek validation from anyone about whether or not I should be able to feel confident about myself and my skills in certain things.

The Culture:

One day, someone asked me if I spoke any other languages other than English and I said that I did. In fact, I speak two other languages besides English and those other languages are ASL and Haitian Creole. Both of my parents are from Haiti and moved to Miami FL and that is where I get to say that I am from Miami. I learned to speak Creole from my mother and uncle always speaking in the language they feel comfortable with. I learned to use ASL for one reason and that reason is because I was born H.O.H (hard of hearing) and currently losing hearing in the remaining ear. I have an awesome mixture in the meantime. I wear Bluetooth hearing aids out in public and at home almost until bedtime. I usually disconnect from the world an hour before crashing so that I can enjoy practical silence without my device.

One day, I was at my office in the Massachusetts state house and I had run into former constituents who spoke my parent’s native language, one of them had been given a run around and was frustrated. In the midst of his frustration, he made a comment about my Haitian Creole skills and how “American” it sounded and that I needed lots of work on it. I left him with the last remark, “Well, if you understood what I said back there in the office, then it’s all good,” he was there behind still pissed and I carried off with the rest of my day. When someone who is straight from Haiti says something about another person’s Creole sounding too American and not Haitian enough, you are being criticized even after helping them get where they needed to be. If I were them, I wouldn’t worry about how “Haitian” I sounded, I would be more worried about getting the help I came for. I would appreciate the help I was getting from someone who at least made an effort.

In the eyes of most people who comes directly from another country speaking multiple languages, anyone who knows their language that isn’t from their country isn’t enough of that particular culture.

The disabilities:

Blindness

I am aware that a lot of people are not born blind or with low vision but I was born with blindness and deafness and I know no other way. There are organizations for the blind around the world and some are older than others. Some of these organizations have a very rigid and outdated philosophy while others are laid back. I have not been involved with each and every group but I have been involved with one for a short period of time. I quickly realized that I also did not fit in with any organization for the blind as well shortly into my training experience a few years ago. I kept noticing the treatment that was given between those who were totally blind or had low vision. It seemed like there was more favoritism towards those who were the classic totally blind individuals as opposed to those who had anything so much as light perception left, they treated with less respect. If you were someone like myself who had another disability outside of blindness, you certainly weren’t getting past the gates of being treated respectfully, the discrimination for not being a typical blind person is profound within the blind community.

I instantly identified as deaf blind and made sure those from the organization remembered to address me as a deaf blind student. I did not accept the title as just a casual blind person when being spoken to, only responded when the correct title was used. The same way they were strict about their rules, I had to be equally as strict about my personal rules as well. In the long run, they were forced to acknowledge that blindness was not the only disability in the world.

I graduated feeling relieved and greatly disappointed but glad I’d never waste my time with anything like this ever again. I felt that I certainly had no business calling an organization like that my family at all. Once again, bumped back to the outskirts of groups and crowds but feeling grateful of that reminder, a reminder that let me know again that I am a powerful person. I needed no group or person to tell me I was good enough for anything, I know that I am.

The Deaf deaf/blind and HOH (hard of hearing):

The first year of submerging into the deaf and hard of hearing community was easy going and smooth. I thought I would feel far out of place seeing how I was clearly the blind person walking around a deaf organization but all was well. I was welcomed into the deaf, hard of hearing community as the deafblind. Within the first few months of becoming a part of the deaf community, I acquired my sign name from a sign language instructor at Perkins, which was cool. I started taking sign language right after I graduated from the training center for the blind in 2015 going to 2016. It took a while to get used to “no voice” in classes but now that I have more experience, I could go a few hours longer with using strictly ASL. I have gotten to the point where I can use ASL interpreters and the sort with my skills. I am still improving and I would like to become a lot better in the future. More and more of my deaf and hard of hearing peers understand me clearly when I sign and that’s the best part.

During the summer of my first year with the deaf community, I learned a lot about how to address someone who uses an interpreter from events and gatherings. Although blindness is my leading disability, I am able to acknowledge other disabilities outside of my own at least. During that summer, I had more hearing than I do now but was still classified as deaf-blind.

A few years later, I am much more developed in my use of American Sign Language and still losing hearing in the remaining ear. Many people take classes just to learn the wonderful language or for work while very few actually use it for themselves. I am using it for myself and others I may come in contact with in the future. I have no problems learning new communication techniques as I find that experience to be very helpful.

I have met some folks who would try to decide for me if I belong in the deaf or hard of hearing community based on where I attended school and whether or not if I used sign language. At the time, my skills were nowhere near usable, I used an interpreter to interpret for me at the events. No, I have not ever been to a school for the deaf or blind and yes, I am oral. In the deaf community, “oral” means you speak with your voice before using sign language. I am an oral deaf blind woman. In my earlier years, I had speech therapy for speech impairment and that was where the mistake was made; there should have been someone around to teach sign language. I use amplification devices to hear in my remaining ear but would rather use an interpreter now that I have the skills and comfort. As the years go by and there are new comers, I will not make them feel uncomfortable at all. I would hope they feel as if they fit in or belong when they arrive whether to a training center for the blind or an American Sign Language class.

As far as fitting in, i do not necessarily fit into one box but I get along with both sides relatively fine.

I’ll ask again; where do you fit in with any list of communities you are involved with?

Shame Talking

By: CaspHer

November 19, 2017

First of all, I hope everyone is having a cool and relaxed week and is in the mood to keep relaxing.

I’ve got some unveiling to do yet again and I’ve got lots of things on my mind. I am turning some of my deepest hidden journals into online blogging. Unfortunately, I will not turn all of what I have been hiding from the public into blogs. Certain things will remain hidden forever.

Questions for you:

• Are some of you the kind that call out unfair treatment when you discover it?

• Are you passionate about anything?

• Do you dare to make changes when you see they are needed?

• Do people try to shame talk you or someone you know into sitting back and letting others step all over you or them?

• Are you a minority?

• Are you or do you know someone with disabilities?

Well, this is certainly for you if you can relate to any of what I have asked.

Predators are normally the culprits behind the shame talking of their victims and trying to keep them from speaking out about the horrible things being said and done to them. Shame talkers are also bullies and come in many shades, shapes and sizes and are often found in congress offices. Shame talkers are found everywhere. The predators are often fixed on the seemingly vulnerable people but are usually in for a hurtful and traumatic surprise from their victims.

While dealing with the situation of shame talkers and shame talking, it is always beneficial to avoid and have avoidance skills. I have learned that if you ignore people who are not a part of your movement, you are better off. The more they are allowed to bother you, the longer they stick to you and all that you are doing. Watch them act like fools while you ignore them and keep going with your day. You may ignore them but also watch your six. A lot of the victims need to keep an eye and an ear out for the predators that slither into their lives through new avenues. By other avenues, I mean; people you know and the connections you have. Try not to have the predators and shame talkers be around you when you are making plans or on the phone. These social parasites may ruin any potential opportunity you may have, anything that may allow you to succeed in getting away from these predators.

Some of the triggering characteristics of the predator is that they like to be the only one talking and in control of all meetings and calling all of the shots. They love to insert themselves where they are certainly not wanted just as long as they can hear themselves talking.

The shame talking will begin almost instantly if you are someone of different background from theirs yet you seem successful in their area.

Example: I have no background in politics or congress but I started some powerful legislation and it seems to be doing well in Massachusetts. Someone who has been there for many years sees me doing well decides to haunt me each day to tell me that what I am doing is bad. It is bad that I am passionate about disability awareness training. Because I lack background in politics but still doing well, I am expected to fail and do miserably. I did not ask for his help, therefor any and all of what I do should not go well. Unfortunately, his perceptions of me with all of my disabilities and being a woman were drained instantly. I am a strong human being and could do just about anything anyone else without disabilities can do. He noticed publicity taking off about my bill that has not passed yet but he wanted to unhinge any and all good things.

THE BEGINNING:

Earlier this year after I came back from Minnesota in March of 2017, I decided to speak with my legislator about some new legislation. I figured since Massachusetts was the beginning of many great things, I believed Massachusetts would be a great foundation for my idea as well. I grew up in Massachusetts and lived in Minnesota for a while but New England seemed better fit for now. Despite the fact that Minnesota is awesome in their own way, this legislation idea had a better chance in Massachusetts due to its rich history and my familiarity with it. I’ve visited both state capitols in one month and they’re both amazing. I started some legislation in Minnesota but decided to put it on hold while I flew away to my home state Massachusetts, while I was there in the twin cities, I got connected with lots of wonderful people at the state capitol, we are still connected by the way. Once I got everything started, my state rep in Massachusetts assigned my idea for legislation a bill number. Between April and July, I had a few meetings at the state house as a constituent, I was seeing a lot of that building by June.

THE MIDDLE:

By June, I landed an opportunity at the Massachusetts State House with a cubical and a computer that was readily accessible to me due to my blindness. This opportunity opened up right after filing a complaint against a regional supervisor at the Massachusetts Commission for the Blind. Their staff member has an awful reputation for talking to women like they are sluts and bags of smelly trash, also has a hard time keeping his hands to himself. He believed that because he is blind that it was okay to open his mouth and release his toxic negativity into my direction. After he slandered Pine Manor College’s name by repeatedly blubbering, “Pine Mattress” I reported him to an agency above the commission for the blind. Feeling totally violated by an old blind predator, I restored myself by writing a letter to the agency having them promise to never let him into my meetings ever again, for as long as I am a resident of Massachusetts. I promised that if he ever uttered another word to me again, I would oust them to the media instantly. They made him send an apology letter saying he was sorry for what he said about Pine Manor and me. Did you really think someone like that is truly sorry? Not a cold day in hell would I have taken his pathetic tail seriously. That letter lives on a shelf near other books collecting dust just like him. He offends any and every person he comes across the moment he steps into a room and opens his mouth, which is part of his problem! He entered my meeting with all intensions of starting trouble with me but it ended differently. This meeting in June was intended to meet a new case worker and continue the summer, not get harassed and insulted by an older blind person. An interview was set up at the Massachusetts State House, during the interview, they asked me when could I start working with them, if I had time to start that day. Unfortunately I could not start working because I had a ride coming for me and I did not have an accessible computer ready. Days later, I was given a cubical and my computer was set up, I had my braille displays set up with a phone at my desk and all. After the official day of working and getting things in order, I had already blasted through a week’s worth of tasks and projects.

Baking hot July 7th came around and I found a letter in the mail from the House of Representatives of Massachusetts saying that my bill had been filed. To think that something that was once a simple word document on my personal computer became recognized and become legislation; I was stunned and couldn’t believe what I found. I’ve never done anything like that before but here I was standing in the office posing for a photo with my bill in hand. Later that day after the photo, I got to meet attorney general Healey in the halls of the house. In the middle of speaking to her briefly, her aide came and gave me his contact card to continue our talk which I did. When I returned, the shame talking started from the supervisor that overseen me and a few others. He saw that I was happy about my legislation and decided to slither into the moment of my deserved excitement and ruin the moment. He began to tell me that what I was doing was not good and that it was not going well. He compared the simple expression of excitement I gave to Kanye West which was absolutely foul and uncalled for. After that comparison, he was needing a snarky response which he got instantly. He was rude to me and I instantly gave him a dose of his own medicine without thinking twice, starting off with doing what I needed to do, getting my work done.

He realized that he was not getting any more reactions from me which lead to him focusing on bothering me for the rest of the week and the following weeks. He was often caught shoulder surfing at a distance to see what was going on in my computer. After I found that out, I turned my screen black while I could still use JAWS screen reader for the blind. He inquired about wanting to learn my technology and I simply ignored him, he never spoke of the blindness equipment I used again. All of the screens to anything I used around him were turned off and operated with braille displays and audio output with increased speed, I was fully aware of how paranoid it made him.

I found a copy of my bill ripped from the wall above my computer and he was the only person that could have done something like that. Everyone else was cool with my posting things on the wall near my computer even if I couldn’t see it but I felt the rip near the bottom of the page. I never removed the paper with the rip. I let it stay there so everyone else could see his jealousy against me on that piece of paper.

A few weeks later, state house news heard about my legislation and decided that they wanted have an in-office interview with me about the bill. I agreed to do the interview without informing the supervisor because this was not concerning him or the office at all. This bill was not connected to any of the projects I had been given to complete. All of my work was done and I did the interview without him around. He was the kind of person who always wanted to hear himself talking and be in control of anything that allowed another person to be noticed. I hated him a lot at the moment and even more as the days went on. Any of the days that he was not around was pretty good and I was allowed to feel somewhat comfortable, hoped he stayed away much longer. Any of the offices that called to speak to me, he needed to listen in on another phone nearby so I gave them my cell phone number in respect to our privacy.

As I left the building to go home, state house news came out with their cameras and took photos of me for their articles, I suspected he was lurking somewhere in preparation for a new day of intense shame talking to me any chance he got. As any other person would, I spoke to my mother about this predator and she and my friends agreed that he was indeed a “hater”; for sure. I was absolutely right about my first gut feelings when me and this shame talker crossed paths. He emitted the dusty aura of someone that liked to take advantage of seemingly vulnerable people.

If you suspect someone has a cloudy dusty aura, please go with your first gut feeling and keep them at bay if you can.

THE END:

August 15 came around and I was surprised by the House of Representatives and given a citation for all of the work I was doing. When I appeared at the office to go into my separate space, there were a group of women sitting around at a table. I left them to their conversation as it had nothing to do with me. One of them stopped and said, “Hey! You’re the woman I just saw on the newspaper downstairs” and she shook my hand as did the others. I kept my large citation nearby and headed home instead of staying the rest of the day. I figured I would ignore him some more and enjoy the much deserved excitement that I worked hard for. When someone is presented with a citation from their state house, that usually means they’ve been involved for years. I had only been there for a short period of time, already, I was getting praises and recognition. I received all of the attention that the shame talker wanted for himself.

I did not go home and party like it was 1999. I went home, put on my sweatpants and took a lovely nap on the recliner. My family was happy about my achievements as well as my friends. As the days went on, I noticed more news articles in the Boston area were posting my photos as well as the organizations that provided my ASL interpreter. The other Massachusetts government offices saw the articles and contacted me as well. During that time, the state house was on recess and so was I.

The new Jim Crow of 2016

The New Jim Crow of 2016 

 

Feb 12 2016

By: Casandra Xavier

 

 

Every single day we step out of our houses or wherever we’re coming out from, we’ve experienced something like the Jim Crow. I have always wanted to write about this for a long time. Now that I can, I will. I am an African American woman that can certainly talk about this subject. There was a blog online a few days ago and this topic came up. It was great to see that some people could have a conversation without getting wild. I watched the thread go on and not one person got rude.

I decided to write yet another article about Jim Crow and I would publish it this time.

I guess I could tell you all a few stories about my experiences with this happening each time I step into a store. It took a long time to write this entirely because I wanted to be sure that this subject was properly approached. Now, I am ready.  

I know there is a lot going on with all of the race stuff and I still contemplate about sharing this on any public platform. I wrote about my Jim Crow story back in college but I wanted to come back to that time again. I will do just that. Ever since I wrote an essay about this topic many years ago, things have changed with me and the world around me. Yet, this experience stuck with me for several years.  

 

What happened?

 I was in college at the time taking an African American course and this question came up. Our instructor asked us to write our own Jim Crow experience and I did what she said. It took a while to get it all out of my brain and into a computer screen. Gladly, I got it out. I wrote about my guitar shop voyage gone horribly wrong. I would like to go back to the time I sat in a class in Haldan Hall with my instructor.

I was at least twenty one at the time when this happened and I am now twenty six years old. Time has changed and so did I. I was so into music that I carried my guitar with me so that I could play during down time in college. I played at school events, even while the weather was warm and I would sit on the grass with some people looking on at me. I got to the point that I needed to get my strings changed. I decided that it would be a good idea to go to the guitar shop near Boston College that was split apart by the deadly train tracks I feared crossing. I crossed that road with my heart in my throat all of the time. My mobility skills were crap at all times of the day. I often found myself getting painfully impaled on objects that jutted out into my path. I was a hot mess traveling around but I’m not anymore. I barely hit things anymore. I am a good cane traveler. I am glad that they’ve moved the guitar center to another location. I don’t know where it is now but I’ll figure it out. I was also afraid to admit to people that I got hurt from getting stuck on objects because I didn’t want to draw attention to myself and lack of vision.

I arrived to the guitar shop after being rained on and in a crossfire of thunderstorms, a sense of relief washed over me the moment I smelled guitar wood. I knew I was home-free from traveling misery. I had both of my guitars on me that day, I cherished these guitars as if they were my children that I’ve never had. I had my own strings specifically for my guitar type and waited patiently to be seen by the guitar-guru.

He spoke to me with an uncertainty in his tone as I walked toward his voice, “Ma’am, how can I help you today?”

“I would like to have both of my guitars get string changes and tunings, sir. Thank you,” I replied respectfully. He sized me up and down. I knew he did. I felt the tension from his eyes roll up and down my physical features and my guitar cases. I interrupted his gaze and handed him the electric guitar, “Here’s the first guitar and its strings, sir,” he took it from me and began to unwind and clip the bad strings. The environment in that place became flooded with heavy medal lovers and it got really loud inside of the place. I found a chair and sat down with the other guitar as I waited for the guy to finish.

Suddenly, he came over to me and asked, “Excuse me, I would like to know if you stole or purchased this guitar and where?”

I replied, “Excuse me?”

He repeated the question with the straightest voice ever and I shifted in my seat, “Am I not allowed or deserving of owning guitars like the ones your tuning and changing strings on? Are these guitars too good for someone like myself to own?”

He didn’t say much except waiting for me to answer. I answered his questions with questions because I found that to be very rude and condescending to think that of me. I knew for a fact that the majority of people in this store and constant customers were not African American like myself. I asked him to give me back both of my guitars after re-stringing and tuning them. I never answered his question about my musical instruments that I paid for. I didn’t have to show him any proof of owning these devices as I’ve owned them for many years.

We argued back and forth about whether or not I had to show him anything at all. In the end, I didn’t show him anything, I walked out unharmed, my guitars came out of there with me as well. I told him that I was going to report his terrible service to the owner of the store. I did just what I said when the owner came out. I wanted nothing but changed strings and to be able to use my guitars peacefully. Instead, I get someone with an awful attitude who is still stuck in the old times still believing that a guitar was much too good for an African American woman to own. No, there is no instrument that is too good for anyone to own. I felt as entitled to own a guitar or two just like any other person who went into that horrible establishment.

When he gave me back my guitar, the strings were not in the right places and I mentioned this to him about the horrible job he performed on my precious child-guitars! In the near future, I eventually found someone who replaced and rearranged my guitar strings. I needed the strings changed in time because I was getting ready for a major performance, I was going to raise money for Haiti by way of playing guitar and singing.

I have never stepped foot in there ever again since that time. Plus, they got shut down.

 

I am good enough to own a guitar no matter what my skin color is and I still do own both guitars.