The Freedom of Expression
The house was quiet, other than the rain dancing on the skylight, irregularly dripping and sliding, over the glass. I watched the rain, silvery and slippery, and heard the quiet of the house underneath the rippling water. I stood and walked noiselessly to the hallway, under another skylight, down thirteen steps to the brightly lit kitchen, and was greeted by a explosion of expression, an orchestra of movement, the exchange of thoughts without sound: my parents’ conversation.
I watched their hands forming pictures, words, and ideas; watched them throw their bodies into their discourse; watched their faces picture their feelings. My father stepped back, raising his eyebrows, showing, my mother’s amazement; my mother touched my father’s arm to interrupt; they watched each other’s faces to understand emotion, to recognize unspoken intonation. Their hands were messengers: hammers driving their statements into the air, doves carrying their voices from cage to freedom.
I am fascinated by a language I’ve known all my life; I have watched, understood, and felt the meaning of my parents’ conversation, laughed at their jokes, and, finally, have discovered what it means to be deaf. I realize that deafness means learning to use one’s body as a valuable tool of expression, not merely an enclosure for one’s mind and soul. While deafness destroys one sense, it provides the opportunity to use every other sense as a powerful means of expression.
Eyes become a deaf person’s ears. They are tools for interpreting, they see the music of movement; they watch for signals, changes in light, color, and emotion. The body is equally valuable. My mother tells me her body sets her free — to have her hands tied would be unbearable. Her voice would be imprisoned without her body. And though I can hear and speak, I understand her. I know how she feels because I am her daughter and I grew up in a world of silence, expressing my emotions and thoughts with my body, learning to sign before learning to speak.
I know two worlds that contrast in countless ways. I understand two languages as separate means of communication and two cultures — one that glorifies the body, commands attention with motion, and another that uses sound waves and tones to express. Deafness is a part of me as much as is my ability to hear. I will always be connected to the deaf world, and am proud of my relationship with people who have turned their disability into a beautiful characteristic — who have learned to speak with their hands.
Ms. Houghland will attend Oberlin College, Ohio in the fall of 1998. She attended Sehome High School and as very active in theater. In addition to being a straight A student, Sarah has acted and directed plays as part of her high school career. She has received awards for her academic performance and numerous recognitions for her theatrical work. She has worked on improving peoples understanding of Aids, volunteered at a local nursing home, and assists in an auction to benefit battered children. Most notably, she has been recognized for her work as director of a of a play by William Shakespeare.
