Without A Voice (Based On A True Story)

So It Begins

Thursday, March 11, 1993. A typical day for most people. The birds chirped cheerfully in the trees, no significant differences in the weather; it was just a normal day around the world. A normal human occurrence happened in the little town of Hilo, Hawaii. A child was born. That child, as most expect, was me.

 I was given the name James, named after my uncle.  My family was elated with the exciting addition to their family. My brother was only 2 years old at the time, but he was ecstatic to have a new playmate. My parents wept with joy as they held me in their arms. Nothing could possibly ruin the blessed moment in our lives. Little did they know, the medical staff found a way to damper the joy.

The doctors removed me from the operation room to conduct a physical exams. This is a routine process for newborn children, therefore was not a concern to my parents. However, an uncommon result surfaced from a hearing test. I was not responsive to noises emitted by the machines. I did not cry or even look in the general direction. The doctors were stumped; they had no solid idea as to this phenomenon. Was I just not attentive? Was there still fluids obstructing my hearing? Further inspection determined that I was in fact hard-of-hearing. 

My parents were distraught and thoroughly confused as to how this could happen. No one in our family has been born with such a deficiency. This was impossible. However, it was the sad reality and nothing could be done to fix it at the time. My family looked towards the bright side, in that I was healthy and breathing. 

I was welcomed to our small home by many smiling faces. Our tiny apartment was filled with family and friends anxiously waiting to meet the newest  member of the family. I was passed around like a hot potato among the crowd. Their mouths moved, without any sound being produced. In an era without text messages or wireless internet, the family heard the tragic news about my disability as my parents greeted them. Everyone was shocked, looking at me sympathetically. Condolences were shared with my family and everyone had an opinion on what to do with me. 

We were not a rich family at the slightest. We lived paycheck-to-paycheck just to survive. I wore hand-me-down clothes from my brother, while he wore the same five sets of clothes he was given from Christmases and birthdays. We had little toys and limited television channels. Our one-bedroom apartment was located in the lower-income part of town with crime rampant through the streets. My mother was a secretary for a local fast food restaurant chain, and my father was a deputy sheriff for the state. With their income, we were able to buy just enough food for survival.

We grew up in a typical Asian household, more specifically a Japanese home. With this lifestyle came certain expectations for my brother and me. We were expected to maintain respect and dignity in and out of the house, not complain about any difficulties, and much more. Think this is tough? This isn't even the beginning. In the traditional ways, there are no disabilities or defects. If there is no visual evidence, then the disability does not exist. My mother was a little hesitant in believing the validity of my hearing defect, but she still treated me differently. She still said things to me, but it obviously failed. 

We were also the first grandchildren for our maternal grandparents. However, there were speculations and indirect conflicts between us and our grandparents. As children born of mixed races, we were deemed to be inferior to our grandparents older traditions and ideals. With my disability to add to the fire, they felt we were lesser than previously thought. My parents knew of the discrimination since their marriage, and wanted to shield us from this environment as long as possible. 

My brother and I were babysat by a great aunt who lived about 10 minutes away from us, along the way to our mother's workplace. We spent the day at her house until our mother finished work at 5 in the afternoon. Her house was very large compared to our apartment. She and her husband lived on the top floor of this two-story home. The portion of the house had a large, carpeted living room and a tiled kitchen and eating area. I stayed in a crib in the living room, which my brother stayed in when he was an infant. I spent my days watching my brother run around the house, playing with her various toys, and watching television. He seemed to have a lot of fun, at least that is all I could assume based on his facial expressions. 

My aunt knew of my disability and tried to accept it. She checked on me frequently to make sure I was safe and healthy. I felt safe in her home, like I was welcomed into her home. For years, we spent our days at her home while we waited for our parents to come and pick us up. We were happy and safe from the outside world. I was able to grow up and learn. 

My aunt's television was able to display the closed captions during the programs. This was my medium for education. I learned to read lips and match them to the captions. Children's programs, news stories, all were not a restriction to my techniques. As time passed, I built my skills to read books and later newspaper comics. My aunt was astonished by my early development. She encouraged my intellectual growth and gave increased the reading materials' difficulty. From the age of two years old, I was able to read books first graders struggled to read. 

My aunt praised my accomplishments to my mother. She was very impressed by how little my disabilities held me back. I think it was because I didn't know what it meant to be deaf. The concept was foreign to my young mind. I was aware that I was not able to hear, but how would I know that this was not a normal thing. I thought everyone read lips just like me. Regardless, my mother was overjoyed to know she has a borderline genius in her hands. She anticipated a great future for her young child. 

The next year, we welcomed my younger brother into the world. I could not contain my excitement. I was going to be a big brother to a new life. I had someone that would look up to me. John was a great older brother, but he was very independent and did his own thing. I was never close to him, nor was he to me. We both had the mutual respect as brothers, along with the sibling rivalries. He asserted his dominance as the elder brother, and did not expect me to step out of line to challenge him. I couldn't even hear what was happening around me. I couldn't even speak. How was I supposed to say "no" without a voice. 

With that thought, I realized the conundrum: how can I teach my newborn brother things if I could not speak? I realized that this meant an adjustment to my aspirations. I needed to become more of a silent role model; in that I needed to lead by example, not by instruction. I had to show little Jacob how to be a good student, good brother, and a good son. I accepted my role in Jacob's life and promised to let him do my best to make his life one he deserved. 

With Jacob's entrance to the world, we realized that our apartment was much too small for all of us. We needed to uproot and move the home we once knew. My parents were able to move to a larger townhouse on the opposite of our beautiful island. It was not a cheap option, but this was the best for our family. Money was now tighter than ever. We stretched every resource as long as possible. Toys were scarcer than before, food was limited in variety, and clothes were needed bought less frequently. This was not ideal, but I was not as affected as John. I survived on books and newspapers, not toys. John continued to play with his small collection of toys and slowly accumulated my toys. Jacob was happy with his forms of entertainment , like our old mobile. However, he had more of a personality than John and I did at his age. He did not like the cartoon characters on our old clothes, nor did he like the shows we watched. My mother entertained his picky attitude and bought some sets of new styles for him to wear. I personally didn't care; my younger brother should get whatever he wanted, as long as he was happy.

Our lives were slowly stabilizing. We established a daily routine from our new home to our maternal grandparents house. Since our new home was further away from our aunt's home, we needed to cease our visits to her home. Our grandparents were much more attentive to my brothers. Since they knew I was deaf, they did not have anything to talk about. I was aware of their behavior, but I didn't mind. I knew it was a strange thing to cope with, and I understood their lack of knowledge. I kept mostly to myself and read my books. Life was starting to feel normal again.