“On Fighting ASL Stigma and Amplifying Deaf Voices”: An Interview with Sara Nović

Sara Nović’s latest novel True Biz is an exposé of the marginalization of the Deaf community borne out of ASL stigma and abuse of power by the hearing world. Set in a residential school for the Deaf, True Biz is brilliant not only in terms of its swift prose but also in its rendition of the nuances of race, identity, and the American Sign Language (ASL). There is a fiery undercurrent to the novel that kept me turning the page and feeling an affinity for the three protagonists: February Waters, headmistress of the school and a Child of Deaf Adults (CODA), Austin Powers, the school’s star kid who enjoys the privilege of having been born into a family with generational deafness, and Charlie, the newly admitted student whose hearing mother is against the idea of enrolment in the school, adamant that Charlie’s deafness could be “fixed” with a cochlear implant and speech therapy. To be able to garner such reader affection for all protagonists is truly a testimony to Nović’s skill as a writer. She had me captivated from the first page until the last and to say it was an enlightening experience would be quite the understatement. I knew though from the moment I picked up the book and devoured it, I had to seek out Nović and extend the dialogue on ASL stigma, language acquisition, ableism, and the fight to amplify deaf voices. And thus follows our email exchange. 

Bareerah Ghani: In a 2015 Electric Literature interview, you brought up the early beginnings of what’s now True Biz. At the time, you said you were working on a short story that kept “getting fatter and fatter.” How did that growth and progress take shape into a novel? 

Sara Nović: This is apparently part of my writing process, because the same was true for my first book—Girl at War was initially a short story that, after I’d “finished,” I felt like I didn’t want to leave behind. With True Biz, several of the characters were initially in short stories and after I’d finished those, I was still interested in their trajectories, and wondered what it might be like if they met one another. I think maybe this is my subconscious’s way of getting me to start writing a novel without feeling overwhelmed by the size or time commitment it’ll ultimately take to get the job done. 

BG: You’ve spoken at length about cochlear implants being seen as a “fix” for deafness and a way to prevent the need for ASL. This problem of ASL stigma, and cochlear implants and ASL being viewed as mutually exclusive is at the heart of True Biz. Do you think fiction offers an ample and effective opportunity to expose and examine these issues?

SN: The data that deaf kids do best when they have access to ASL (whether or not they have hearing aids or a cochlear implant) is plentiful already—but it’s hard to get that into people’s hands, and heads, especially in a society that values black-and-white dichotomies and fears disability. So, it’s my hope that True Biz will cultivate the empathy necessary for hearing readers to understand deaf people as fully human and fully their equals. Maybe by opening their hearts, they’ll be more willing to open their minds to the information when they encounter it, too. 

BG: I am fascinated with the ways in which language appears in True Biz. Speaking specifically about dialogue, it’s remarkable how clearly a reader can tell when characters are speaking and signing. In an earlier interview, you mentioned not knowing exactly how to make this ASL/English divide clearly visible and understood. Can you speak to the experimentation process that helped you figure this out? 

SN: I tried all sorts of wild things when I started writing this book—different colors, different kinds of spacing manipulation. The one that probably comes to most people’s minds first is what we call ASL “gloss”: transliterating ASL into English but following ASL grammatical rules and syntax. I did try this, too, but quickly realized it wasn’t doing the work I wanted it to. Since ASL syntax is often the reverse of English, I worried hearing readers would just see “broken” English and continue to assume ASL was inferior. But, for deaf people, ASL is actually more vivid and clearer than English, and that’s when I realized I needed to leverage the spatial elements of ASL on the page somehow. I came up with the idea of what are essentially visual dialogue tags, because when people or objects in an ASL conversation are placed into space, a conversant will remember what’s what based on its tether to that location. So that’s how the characters in True Biz sign, each of them speaking from their own designated space on the page.

For deaf people, ASL is actually more vivid and clearer than English, and that’s when I realized I needed to leverage the spatial elements of ASL on the page somehow.

BG: Beyond dialogue, language also appears in the interludes dedicated to ASL history and diagrams which delineate how the language has developed and help make clear its nuances and linguistic richness. The 3-D diagrams are actually very interesting and useful—they got me to practice the signs with my hands and try to learn how to say different things in ASL. How did the idea to include these originate? Was the intention behind it to raise awareness/combat the resistance to ASL learning? 

SN: I’m glad to hear that they got your hands moving—even though this book can’t show you the three-dimensionality of signed language in full, it’s my hope that if people pick up their own hands, they can get a glimpse of what these conversations might really look like. 

Usually when I’m writing stories about deaf characters, I find myself resisting the editorial requests that I explain something about deafness or deaf culture—I believe deaf characters should be allowed to exist in a story without having to do the work of educating anyone, just like hearing characters do. However, once I realized this book was going to be set at a deaf school, and that one of the main characters, though deaf herself, is really hungry for much of this information, I saw an opportunity to teach without fully exiting the world of the story, through essentially what became Charlie’s ASL “workbook” and February’s lecture notes. I made pretty rudimentary mockups of what I wanted these pages to be, and I’m so fortunate to have Brittany Castle’s illustrations in the finished book—her artistic talent as well as her expertise in ASL made the collaboration a perfect fit. 

BG: What were some of the challenges of rendering ASL on the page? Given that it is a three-dimensional language, how did you ensure it wouldn’t get flattened?

SN: Even though I’m happy that I got to integrate the use of space on the page in this book, and the illustrations, there’s still a lot that’s lost in the translation of ASL to English—some of its playfulness, its beauty, its urgency. That’s probably true of a lot of translation processes. I’m glad that I got to have the italicized ASL dialogue and the actual illustrations in the book though, so that people can get just a touch more exposure than if I’d come at it from only one angle. 

BG: In the book, while ASL is featured heavily, there’s also some focus on Black American Sign Language (BASL) and its nuances. There’s also the depiction of how ASL is perceived as being “better” than BASL which rings true of several languages when pitted against one another. How do you contend with this harmful idea of language superiority?

SN: One of the reasons I thought it was important to highlight the differences between ASL and BASL is because the Deaf community, like any community in the US, is unfortunately not free of white supremacist hierarchies. I think often people look at a community like ours, which is traditionally stigmatized, and it doesn't occur to them that there is still intersectional oppression happening on top of the overarching marginalization that everyone there is experiencing. There are many ways this plays out in the Deaf community, just like in the hearing world, but I thought the distinction between ASL and BASL is a powerful reminder to everyone that when we, especially as educators, take a hardline prescriptivist view of language and uphold the "standard" way of speaking or writing, we are perpetuating white supremacy. 

On a lighter note, I wanted to include BASL in the book because it's a fascinating and integral part of Deaf culture. For those interested in learning more about BASL from a linguistic perspective, I highly recommend Dr. Carolyn McCaskill's book The Hidden Treasure of Black ASL. There's also an ASL version online!

BG: An important throughline of True Biz is the intersection of identity, language, and belonging. You’re fluent in English, Croatian, and ASL, but have spoken previously about having a fraught relationship with English. You say, “it can never truly be mine” which surprisingly is very apt for Charlie as well—we see her wanting to reject English as she comes to learn and embrace ASL. Are elements of Charlie’s experience influenced by your interaction with languages? Can you speak to how Charlie originated and her character development in connection to language forging identity and sense of belonging?

SN: It's funny because when I started writing True Biz, it felt like a completely new and different project from Girl at War. And it was, superficially American instead of Croatian, third person instead of first, kind of big and sprawling in its scope and structure. But, at its core, it’s still examining those same questions of how to live between two languages and identities of code-switching and feeling like you don’t quite fit. I was in a publishing meeting right before the book came out and someone from Random House said, “Charlie is Girl at War!” and she really is. Different battle, same difficult path to finding her place in the world. Certainly, those questions are something that I reflect on in my own life, and that’s why they keep showing up in my work. They’re things I don’t have answers for yet, those big life questions, and that’s what keeps fiction-writing interesting even through a project that takes years to finish. 

At its core, it’s still examining those same questions of how to live between two languages and identities of code-switching and feeling like you don’t quite fit.

BG: There’s a heavier focus on Charlie’s turbulent relationship with her mother which is seen to have an impact on her ability to acquire language. This is juxtaposed with February (who is hearing) sharing a somewhat smoother relationship with her mother (who is deaf) and perhaps as a result, finding more comfort in ASL. I am curious about your choice to use maternal figures as crucial to swifter language acquisition and development of identity. Could you speak more to that?

SN: I think every reader can identify with having a challenging relationship with a parent, particularly as a teenager, so for Charlie’s character, that may be one of the most universal elements of her story. It’s just that in Charlie’s case, we can see in really concrete ways what happens when a parent chooses not to accept their kid for who they are; this of course, happens to varying degrees to many people. I also viewed February and Charlie as foils for one another and wanted to explore the notion that February has a strong relationship with her mother and Charlie doesn’t, but they both end up feeling as if they have something to prove. 

In general, I believe one’s language and identity are inextricable from one another, and the Deaf community presents a really interesting case study in what happens when that language and/or identity doesn’t match your mother’s, which for so much of society is an automatic assumption.

BG: Your young adult characters seem to find catharsis in various forms of violent protests—there is an escalation from using punk rock as a protest form to resorting to social upheaval. How and why did you decide to push your characters in these directions? How necessary do you think such avenues of protest are for causes that are in dire need of political/social attention and action? 

SN: The students of River Valley, Charlie and Eliot in particular, have had violence inflicted on their bodies in a very real way by the hearing world, so I think their response, while misguided, stems from that. I don’t think their protest method is effective, ultimately, but it’s not just coming out of nowhere, either. 

Unfortunately, it’s statistically much more likely for a deaf kid experiencing language deprivation or social isolation to inflict harm on themselves, rather than externalize it in the way the students have done here. 

I believe one’s language and identity are inextricable from one another, and the Deaf community presents a really interesting case study in what happens when that language and/or identity doesn’t match your mother’s, which for so much of society is an automatic assumption.

BG: In the last few scenes of True Biz, we see Charlie and Austin enraged to the point of wanting to take a drastic action. And while they actively contribute to the creation of the explosive, February intervenes at the right time, leaving Slash and his punk rocker friends to take the front seat on the execution of that plan. Can you speak to this narrative course in connection to the importance of d/Deaf allies and the impact they can have when they amplify d/Deaf issues?

SN: The truth is, ableism is so rampant in today’s society that the majority of hearing people would rather listen to other hearing people talk about deaf issues, rather than listen to deaf people. The media looks to parents of deaf kids, “advocates” for us, or hearing ASL interpreters, rather than talk to us, the actual experts. That’s how strong the stigma of ableism is. So, to that end, I believe allies in the hearing world are imperative to turn nondisabled people’s attention back toward those of us who live these experiences. 

BG: We see an interesting portrayal of power and privilege in the book—in Austin’s character, February’s position as the headmistress and, through the intersectionality of deafness, identity and race. I am interested in learning how you approach power and privilege within the Deaf community and allyship.

SN: There are so many intricacies in Deaf community power dynamics. A big one that most people don't even think about is language access. Most deaf kids are born to hearing parents who never learn to sign, so those children learn sign language at school, much later than natural language acquisition happens at home. The result can be a gap in language proficiency, and sometimes people in the Deaf community who have had access to language (like Austin's character) look down on others who haven't, even though it was almost never their choice to come to ASL late. This, along with the intersection of race, is what we see at play in the exchange between Austin and Kayla. Additionally, because all deaf people experience discrimination from the hearing world, I think some white Deaf people view the Deaf world as their "safe space," without taking into account the ways systemic oppression of multiple-marginalized people are still in play. 

The experience of being CODA is also something that's come into view more lately, probably due to the film CODA winning Best Picture. CODAs are an important part of the Deaf community—they are our children! They are often native signers—but, when they walk out into the hearing world, the world views them as hearing, so they have that privilege, too.

The Deaf world has a long way to go toward equity, particularly with respect to racism and privileges related to language access, but I am glad that we are actively having these conversations every day as a community, instead of sweeping it under the rug. For me as a white Deaf person, that means doing a lot of listening and amplifying Black Deaf people and Deaf people of color when I get the chance. If anyone wants to learn more about intersectionality and racism in the Deaf world, I highly recommend the work of David Player. 

Most deaf kids are born to hearing parents who never learn to sign, so those children learn sign language at school, much later than natural language acquisition happens at home.

BG: In your author’s note, you say, “It’s my hope that we will find allies in the hearing world willing to stand with us and fight for our self-governance, dignity, and the value of human diversity before the effects of educational isolation and genetic manipulation are irreversible.” What practical actions can an ally take for the eradication of d/Deaf and ASL stigma and essentially to fight for a cultural and structural change that would result in the acknowledgement of deafness as a separate linguistic context and culture?

SN: Amplify deaf voices. Learn ASL from deaf teachers. Buy ASL-related materials and products from deaf creators and businesses. Cast deaf performers in deaf roles, and in lots of roles. Treat deaf adults like humans rather than objects worthy of pity. Consider the accessibility of your workplace and events on the ground-floor of planning; don’t make us beg for it. (It’ll be easier and more cost-effective if you budget it in at the start instead of trying to retrofit it in later, too.) Include deaf and disabled people in your statements, and practices, regarding diversity and intersectionality. If you see injustice, use your privilege to speak out against it in the moment, then refer people back to deaf people for more information. Listen.

BG: Lastly, what are you currently reading? Also, who are some other deaf authors/creatives we should be keeping an eye out for?

SN: I just finished Elena Ferrante's first novel, Troubling Love, which was a treat, as is all her work, and started Nicole Chung's memoir All You Can Ever Know this morning. Early days still, but I have a feeling I will love it. 

As for deaf creatives, there are so many talented deaf writers, ASL storytellers, artists, and performers out there! For those working in English, I really love the short stories of Ross Showalter, and feel confident he is going to be a star one day soon. Poets Sarah Katz and Jon Lee Clark also have new collections of poetry out this month—Country of Glass and How to Communicate, respectively. 

Sara Nović is the author of the novels True Biz and Girl at War, as well as the nonfiction project America is Immigrants, all from Random House. She teaches creative writing and Deaf studies at Emerson College and Stockton University, and lives in Philadelphia.