Give Me a Sign

by Anna Sortino

“Awkward.” She leans into the sign, wobbling her body side to side while she raises and lowers three extended fingers on both hands.

Deaf waving isn’t like a casual hello. Rather, it’s like reaching out to slap a table to get someone’s attention: You bend your wrist forward to hit the air horizontally as many times as it takes to get the person to look at you.

Isaac holds up one finger on his left hand, drawing his right hand to his chest where he signs the word “hungry,” slowly running the C shape down from the base of his throat. He holds his left hand forward with one finger out to emphasize the single movement.

He signs the word the way I did, moving his hand up and down his chest more than once. He shakes his head no, raising his eyebrows.

“It’s fine.” I tap my thumb against my chest, confident I know this sign.

with plenty of facial expressions still.

Gary knows to face Isaac as he responds, and Isaac glances back and forth between him and Ethan’s interpreting.

Mackenzie throws both hands into the air to start a round of sign language applause.

wiggles her fingers in the air in silent,

It sucks that someone like Mackenzie can make money while Deaf creators often struggle to get views.

There’s so much energy, emotion, and personality that goes into ASL, and it clearly translates to their approach to this job.

The way they move around, eager to take up space. It’s not just vocabulary and grammar that I need to learn, but also how to set my expressions and movements free.

So Isaac lifts his foot high and stomps the floor, which gets them to look up.

I can tell that Isaac switches over to a more English-based sentence construction when communicating with me, which is easier to follow since I’m still unfamiliar with ASL grammar. But when Isaac, Natasha, and Jaden all use true ASL, I’m lost—picking up words here and there, but not truly comprehending yet.

amused by his playful banter despite the cultural misunderstanding.

“What are you waiting for?” he signs, kicking his feet frantically beneath him so he can hold both hands out of the water.

“Later,” he signs to her with his tongue sticking out

Someone stomps the floor and makes a loud “hoot” for attention while flicking the lights on and off.

“Finally.” His mouth makes the “pah!” shape

“It’s fine,” I say and sign, jabbing my thumb to my chest.

It’s not long ago that “deaf and dumb” was the actual label. The incorrect assumption that those who use a visual form of communication aren’t as intelligent. A driving force behind oralism and audism. It’s absurd and plain wrong.

He lifts a single finger to the side of his head, flicking it up once while raising his eyebrows in question. “Understand?”

“True business, that really happened.”

To Mackenzie, sign language is a skill to get followers on YouTube and use whenever it’s convenient for her. She’s trying to use it as a deterrent, when in reality a disability doesn’t save you from harassment. Rather, it often makes deaf people more of a target for harm or abuse.

“Exactly what for?” I ask, signing “for-for.”

“Kiss,” he demonstrates, using both hands. He presses his fingers against his thumbs and brings his hands together so that his fingertips touch, representative of two people coming together.

“If she wants to sign in her videos, she needs to be clear that she’s only learning. Not qualified to teach. It’s not fair she gets this many followers when Deaf creators have to work so hard.”

Isaac’s in charge of recording, lest anyone make the mistake of filming vertically.

“She’s a C-D-I,” Isaac quickly explains to me. “Deaf interpreter.” “Oh,” I say. “Like, she’s Deaf?” He nods and quickly looks around, pointing out the hearing interpreter off to the side, relaying information to the certified Deaf interpreter on stage. “More style. Better ASL.”