Ask Away Sunday: How I Forgave My Bulliers

I had someone ask me a good question. They had just finished reading Love Request and the bullying side-story struck a nerve. The question was: How did you learn to forgive them? The questioner prefers anonymity.

I had to really ponder my answer. Truth is, sometimes I wonder if I have forgiven them...but in the end, I came to the realization I have. I cannot pinpoint when but I can tell you how. For me, it wasn't anything anyone else said to me; it wasn't therapy; it wasn't church. It was just...well, realization that came over time.

I was bullied from second grade until I was a junior in high school. I was called names, beaten up on the playground, I had spit balls thrown at me, I was the brunt of endless jokes. The hearing-impaired girl could do no right.

A common "game" I remember the kids playing--this is sometime after elementary school when the kids no longer cared to risk rolling around in the dirt with me to place bruises and kicks on me and yet before they discovered drugs and sex and got distracted from their torture, so middle school. I always sat in the front of the class to better read the teacher's lips. Behind me, boys would constantly whisper--just loud enough for me and those around us to hear, but not loud enough for the teacher to hear--"Tara, Tara." This was followed by snickers.

If I turned around and glared, they'd laugh their arses off because OMG I heard them! If I didn't turn around, they'd laugh even harder because of course, they just assumed the dumb deaf girl didn't hear them...No matter what I did, I was laughed at. Sometimes this had spit balls involved.

This "game" stayed with me throughout my life for some reason. I think it impacted in me what I just said above: "no matter what I did, no matter how I responded, I could do nothing right."

Bullying continued into adulthood, just changed forms. As a hearing "impaired" person trying to work in the hearing world, I was denied jobs as soon as my "affliction" was mentioned. I was fired for not answering the phone--which I couldn't hear on. I was escorted off the shop floor because my hearing aid made me "unsafe". There was no end to the humiliation.

I tell you all this not because I'm bitter, but so you know.

So how did I forgive? HOW?

Well, as I told the questioner, over time I realized 3 things. And this was the catalyst, the point where I learned to let go.

1. These people (bulliers)  must feel real bad about themselves because they only feel good about themselves when they are making others look or feel bad.

Obviously, these people have issues with their own image and self worth. I have not walked in their shoes and I can't judge, but rest assured, they are the ones with the problem here, not me.

2. They are intimidated by me. It has been instilled in humanity for some time that deaf is dumb. Even if people don't say it anymore, they act it. When people look at us and start speaking really really slow and loud, they send a message to those around us--including their children--this person is stupid. Look how I have to talk to them. he he. And the cycle continues. Actions speak louder than words.

And here I was, handicapped from the get-go, making straight As. I was not and am not dumb. And when you have someone supposed to be dumb/retarded doing just as good or better than you...

3. Had they not treated me bad, I wouldn't be who I am today. Heck, I may have been the one treating people bad! Because of what I went through, I know better. I'd rather be treated bad than live knowing I treated someone else bad, that I possibly scarred them for life.
Conclusion: People fear what they don't understand. If you're being bullied (and adults get bullied too!), try to tell yourself these things and remember...you're not the one with the problem, no matter what they say. It's them. 

Will this make your problems go away? Nope. But it may help you face it.

Want to ask me a question about me, deafness, my books, editing, publishing, whatever, for next Sunday? Head over to this post to fill out the form.

Ask Away Sunday: How My Dad AFFECTED Me With Stories of Joan of Arc and the Interesting EFFECTS of Onions

This last week, two questions landed in the inbox, one personal, one editing.

The personal, from a lady named Dee: What made you want to write about strong women?

That's a good question. The answer may be a bit long-winded. Bear with me... Growing up, my father was always talking about women like Joan of Arc, strong women who fought for their beliefs and rights. Now, looking back, this seems odd as my dad is an old-fashioned type...you know "women belong at home cooking dinner and raising babies.." So how did he end up raising a feminist? And why?

Now, I'm not a mind-reader, but I think I know why he did this. I believe he was preparing me. He no doubt knew the world would be a bit tougher on me because 1. I'm a woman 2. I'm Hispanic. 3. I'm deaf. According to him, that was three strikes already. He always told me I was going to have be smarter, stronger, braver, and I was going to have to work twice as hard because in others' eyes, I'm already lacking.

He knew the prejudice I would face and worked daily to prepare me. And sometimes he did this by inspiring me with stories about strong women facing adversity. By the time I started school, I was dying to know more about these women. When a class assignment was "write a report about the American Civil War", I chose women spies and researched them. Every chance I had, I was reading about strong women. My choice of fiction literature was always girl sleuths and the like. Strong girls.

And...now I try to write them. 

Question two, from Morgan: Is there some easy way to differentiate between affect and effect that is easy to remember? I find myself vacillating over the two words most of the time. I understand the difference in their meaning, but I can't make anything stick in my head to remember it. :(

Hum. Excellent question. I honestly didn't come up with a cute riddle or anything. I learned this rule by repeating weird stuff over and over in my head till it came to naturally.

First of all, though Morgan already knows this, I'll share it here for those who may not know. Affect is a verb. Effect is a noun. The two are easily confused. Below is a correct way of using the two words.

Onions affect my digestive system. The effect is bad gas. *I honestly find this a foul, but effective way to remember. If it makes you laugh, it'll stay with you...just like bad onion gas.*

If I call you bad names, I affect (evoke an emotion from) you. The effect (result): you cry.

Just in case the onion sentence doesn't do it for you, I did a little research to see if anyone else had a cuter way of remembering this rule. Grammar Girl does. She even has a little graphic, but I won't steal it. Click on the name to see her post about this rule.

Her sentence: 

The arrow Affected the Aardvark. The Effect was Eye-popping.

Notice a-a and e-e.

But if the onion sentence stays with you, feel free to use it.

Onions affect my digestive system. The effect is bad gas.

Thank you, Morgan and Dee, for your questions. Got a question for me? Use the Ask Away Sunday form and I'll do my best to answer.

My Visit to the Kansas Deaf Cultural Center

Two weeks ago I was on vacation. Yes, I know. You had no clue. Thank Blogger for allowing me to schedule posts in advance. There wasn't a single boring day on Book Babe...at least I hope not.

Well, I went to Missouri and while there, my wonderful stepmother agreed to drive me to a town called Olathe in Kansas. That's where the Kansas School for the Deaf is and also, the Cultural Center.

I met author Shanna Groves there. She's the author of Confessions of a Lip Reading Mom and like me, she's hard of hearing. First of all, I was overwhelmed to the point I almost cried--in a good way. I discovered I'm not alone.

Now, I've always known there are others like me out there. I talk to them online. I've read their books...but to meet someone in person who understands what I go through, who goes through it herself, and even has some words of wisdom. It was a humbling experience and I feel I made a new friend.

We talked about our hearing husbands and the trials that come from this clash of hearing/deaf partnership. We talked about family and how some folks push us to go..."get fixed". We discussed her anti-bullying campaign and when she told me she wanted to use me as an example in a video she's making, I was flustered to the point I was nearly speechless. I'm really not sure what finally came out of my mouth. One of those moments, you know?

A very wonderful tour guide walked us through the museum.

I saw photos of the Deaf school students in the 1800s learning how to cook, run printing presses, playing sports. There's a fake apartment to show hearing people how we live: the gadgets we use, the light we need. There's a video that explains in a clear and yet touching manner the difference btw hard of hearing and deaf and the cultures. There's an area dedicated to a Deaf painter who went to school there and after a really bad accident caused him to be paralyzed, he didn't let that stop him...No. Deafness never stopped him and this wasn't going to stop him either. He painted with his mouth!

The thing that amazed me most of all though: I actually understood everyone. The tour guide, my stepmum, my new friend Shanna, the lady who ran the museum. I was in a group of people and understood every word.

You know why? They cared. I realize now that I don't have to be lost and confused. I don't have to let people (yes, this includes family members!) talk over my head as though I'm not there. They CAN make the effort if they want to.

Whether you have a hearing "impaired" member in your family or not, make it a practice to speak clearly and enunciate. It's really not that hard.

This post..it really has no point. I just wanted to share a bit of myself with you. This day, this experience, this new friendship...was just something so wonderful that happened to me.

Thank you, Chuck (the wonderful tour guide) and Shanna Groves for a memory that I will always cherish.

Special Post for My Hard of Hearing Friends (Or for those who also have hard of hearing friends)

I've totally come to terms with the fact that I can't hear, that I'm slightly different from everyone else, and I'm okay with that. But even though I say, "I can do everything you can do, except hear", I've had to admit there are some frustrations. One of them has always been the telephone.

Growing up, my mother would have to listen to my phone conversations on another line and cover the mouthpiece while she relayed what they were saying to me. Everyone was always asking me what that echo was... I was too ashamed to tell them the truth. It was just one more thing that made me different from everyone else...something else for them to make fun of.

As an adult, I used VCO (Voice Carry Over). The process went something like this: 

I called a 1-800 number, a relay operator. I would tell the relay operator what number I was calling. The operator dialed that person and connected us. The operator then proceeded to listen to our conversation and type out whatever the other person was saying. The words would appear on a screen. I would talk back. We had to remember to say "go ahead" every time we were done speaking so the operator would know to switch lines again.

The upside to this:

I could make my own phone calls without my mother having to drop everything and listen in.

The downside:

More often than not, folks would hang up on me. "I'm not buying anything. Sorry." Also, the process of explaining to everyone how it all worked and what they  needed to do...eh.

And I had a stranger listening to all the details of my personal life.

This was before text messaging.

Then text messaging came along and I thought I'd never need anything else...but you can't text the doctor and make an appointment. You can't text the groomer and get your dogs hooked up and so on...

So hubby became my secretary after a while. Poor guy.

But to make a long story short, there is now something for us. It's funny how this came about. I follow another deaf author named Dawn Colclasure. In her newsletter a few months ago, she mentioned yet another deaf author, Shanna Groves. Shanna and I connected and as I was heading her way (Kansas City), we agreed to meet in person. We met at the Deaf Cultural Center (more about that soon) and while there, my stepmum grabbed the latest edition of Hearing Loss Magazine.

In that magazine is an ad for CapTel with Sprint.

And tomorrow I am getting a new cell phone!!!!!!!!! That I will be able to talk on!!!! I will no longer have to text 15 messages to relay the latest drama in my life when crap goes down. I can just call my friend! Just like anyone else. And my hubby no longer has be my secretary.

How it works: You register with CapTel. *You must have an Android-powered cell phone, but this service is FREE. HOWEVER, there's also a home phone. I did not check into this though. I use the cell for everything.* Someone calls your CapTel number...and they just natter away and the program itself converts their words to text on your screen right before your very eyes. You natter back. And the program also works for voicemail!!!!

I'm very excited about this and as I learned from talking to Shanna last week, for some reason, people are not advertising that they have stuff for the hearing "impaired". You have to ask for it. And I'm not afraid to ask for it.

The people in the Sprint office hadn't even heard of this feature their own company is offering. It was a learning experience all the way around. I just want to share this...we need to spread the word about this awesome feature. I'm sure I'm not the only one who didn't know of it. I hope that this post reaches at least one Deaf/Hard of Hearing person who can utilize this feature.

Find out more about it here or here

My Aunt is My Everyday Heroine

Over on the HerStory blog this month, we've been talking about our everyday heroines. Everyone has a different idea of what that is. Some think of a disabled friend who shows up to work every, no matter her pain. Some think of a mother juggling sick kids and a career. Some think of policewomen or brave women of the past who helped others.

I think of my aunt and this is my post...

When you were a little girl, there was that woman you looked up to. She hung the moon in your eyes. She was just COOL. You said, "When I grow up, I wanna be just like her!"

Mine was Aunt G.I. Jane.

Due to her current occupation, my aunt wishes to remain anonymous and I am giving her a code name of her choice. It suits her. Not because she looks like Demi Moore, but because she has been in a position such as G.I. Jane more than once.

At the moment, she rises and works really long days (we're talking over 10 hours) with all male prisoners. She dresses in Battle Dress and starts her day with a morning wake-up run. Then she proceeds to do things we aren't allowed to reveal, but she is the ONLY woman drill instructor out of ten, disciplining 60 male prisoners.

Can you put yourself in her combat boots for a minute? You think it's awkward maybe giving a presentation in a room full of men? Imagine how she feels running, yelling, commanding, bossing men all day--and remember they've been put in prison for a reason. I'm sure more than one have a nasty attitude toward women.

Sometime in the afternoon, she runs again for 2 miles in 17 or 20 minutes.
There's also marching, cadence, drill movements, and other things.

Why does she do this job? you wonder. "Surely it's to help the women's rights movement," you declare.

She does this job because she got tired of working in a sawmill--not tired of the work itself, but tired of worrying about the constant layoffs and if she would have a job from day to day. There's nothing heroic in her career choice. She says that some of the greatest women in history didn't do what they did to prove anything to anyone but themselves. Instead of saying, "Look at me. I'm doing this," she says, "They did it to prove to themselves they could do it."

And that is how my aunt is. She does what she feels is right. She's not out to impress anyone, just prove things to herself.

She worked in a sawmill for seventeen years, another male-dominated profession. She witnessed fingers being cut off, arms pressed flat, and her first day on the job, a man actually asked her, "What are you doing here? Are you lost?"

You know what Aunt G.I. Jane said?

"No. What, are you afraid I'm going to take your job?"

She says the man retired shortly thereafter, but other men doubted her at first. "Oh, you better go help her. It's going to get nasty", was a common attitude when she was around, but not for long. They would come to "help" her and she'd outwork them by doing both her job and theirs.

On top of this, her own family wasn't supportive of her career choice. "That's not a woman's job!"

I picture her back then, my aunt, chin up, eyes narrowed, a spunky grin on her face, as she puts on her hard hat and gloves. I imagine she looks much the same now as she gets up and puts on her BDUs and laces her combat boots. And I know what's going through her head as she did/does these things because her advice for women in male-dominated professions is quite simple: "Don't take their shit. Stand up for yourself. Keep your head up and trudge on."

My aunt never intended to be a feminist. There were no motives behind her life choices beyond "get a job, keep a job, do my job", but she's an everyday heroine. She's my everyday heroine. When I was a kid, teenager, young adult and I was trying to choose a career path for myself, I heard a lot of "You can't do that. You're deaf". But if anyone dared to say to me, "You can't do that. You're a woman", all I had to do was think of my aunt. "Look at this woman! Look at all she does and has done! Now tell me again a woman can't..."

She's a woman who faces obstacles everyday in her work, obstacles such as "She's a woman. She better be careful. Go help her. Is she lost? That's not women's work", yet in her mind she only has to prove herself to herself. That's tough. How many of us can say the same? That we don't have an agenda beyond ourselves for whatever we are doing?

What's HER idea of an everyday heroine?

"A person who does great things without expecting a reward or a pat on the back."

What's yours?