Access and Dialogue Go Together
By Megan Garrity, Maine H&V
Our carry on, check.
Our identities, check.
Our deafness, check.
Request for wheelchair, check, …wait a minute.
My very first flight alone gave me one of the biggest learning experiences of my life. I can remember being unsure of whether or not security would ask me to take my Chaco sandals off before going through security. Shoes off, check. Empty pockets, check. Jewelry removed, check. Hearing aids … I wondered, will they set off this weird machine as I walk through? Hold my breath, check.
Flying was not a part of my typical everyday routine. The noises, conversations, unsaid expectations, and rules were all quite foreign, from the muffled intercom announcements to the unique noises only found on a plane, it was all new to me. Even with all the commotion, I was excited, nervous, and eager to feel the experience – starting in one place and ending at your destination. Travel has always been a strong motivator for me.
Flash forward ten years later: our Maine Chapter was sending nine of our Deaf and Hard of Hearing Guides to Cheyenne, Wyoming for the Hands & Voices Annual Leadership Conference. How exciting it was to travel with a group of Deaf and Hard of Hearing adults and professionals who shared the common goal of meeting and supporting families of Deaf and Hard of Hearing children along their journey. We had a clear goal: a chance to learn about the parent perspective in depth and to offer our own insight as Deaf adults and professionals
Each of us in our own right offer so much, but all together, we could feel the power we share in unity through our diversity. You can imagine the excitement we felt being given the opportunity to travel together. Shoes off, check. Empty pockets, check. Jewelry removed, check. On this flight, something else none of us quite expected would be added to our list.
You could feel the wheels meet the tarmac as the pilot was guided to the designated gate. The plane creates a high hissing sound as the propellers wind down and the antsy movement of passengers begins. In the briefest of moments, everyone’s checklist comes roaring to their minds. As you gather belongings, secure a spot in the slow-moving single-file line of exiting passengers, and wonder where the team will gather once at the gate.
What we did not include or anticipate on our checklist was waiting for all of us on the air bridge as we stepped off the plane. Our carry on, check. Our identities, check. Our deafness, check. Request for wheelchair, check, wait a minute. As passengers exited the plane, we saw a line of wheelchairs crowding the air bridge, with airport staff displaying the names of individuals who required the accommodation. To our honest dismay, several of our guides found their names on the tablet associated with the line of wheelchairs.
No one in our group required mobility assistance through the airport. No additional needs were ever requested by our team when tickets were purchased or during our travel that day. Laughter and shock was the first response for most of us. But then confusion and disbelief set in on the faces of the team that such an assumption would be made. This was our connecting flight home after such a heart-filled conference. Within a moment, we seized the opportunity for education and asked the airline attendant why the wheelchairs were there in the first place. She turned her computer screen toward me and showing specific individuals who were brought wheelchairs and who were assigned a tag alongside their name, “Deaf.”
The airline attendant was genuine in her lack of understanding. I took the moment to explain that requests for such accommodations was not made by us. It was important to me to take the opportunity to educate this individual as politely as possible but explained that if a Deaf individual desired further assistance they would explicitly request it themselves. “Deaf” does not correlate with wheelchair use; anyone who is Deaf would make any and all requests based on their actual needs.
This interaction became such an important piece of our journey, recognizing the need for dialogue, education, experience and vulnerability to face hurdles together. Together, Deaf and hard of hearing adults with a lifetime of experience with parents of Deaf and hard of hearing children facing everyday challenges and successes, ultimately supporting and working for and with Deaf and hard of hearing kids who will only expand upon the achievements we have made thus far. ~Editor’s note: Garrity is the Deaf/Hard of Hearing Guide Coordinator for the Maine H&V Guide By Your Side Program.