Anyway, I knew I wanted to hit the ground running at Oxford, meet new friends, and start the process of getting to know people without all this painful navel-gazing. I've only got two years here (unless I decide to do a DPhil and stay for longer); that's not long at all! I knew, all spring and all summer, that I had no time to lose once I got to the UK. Carpe diem, as they say. Soak it up, live, learn, meet people, accept no limitations. Frankly, however, being immersed in such a high-level academic and social environment is difficult for any deaf person (especially when no other deaf people are around). It's difficult for me, for sure, especially where social interactions are involved. I love people and I love my friends, and over time I've come to realize how much and how truly I value all the relationships in my life, but I can feel like a fish out of water sometimes with strangers, or in group-based social situations. And so I reflected on many things this summer. And then I decided to embrace a policy of openness and brutal honesty.
By "brutal honesty," I'm simply giving myself a "go-get-'em" code word for being upfront. As a deaf person, it can be all too easy to meet new people, lipread for a bit, get along all right even if not perfectly, feel embarrassed about the things you miss along the way, and eventually chicken out of talking about your deafness much at all. Total honesty is the opposite. It means being vulnerable with near-complete strangers and asking for their help, or at least their cooperation and patience, and doing this from the get-go. It means saying, look, this is the way things are for me, and I hope you'll reciprocate by [speaking clearly/learning sign language/repeating yourself/whatever], since I'd like to understand you and get to know you and your own strengths and weaknesses. And, boy, is this difficult. It's hard enough to be vulnerable with friends, let alone strangers or people you've just met, let alone doing it over and over again. Rhodes House events; college events; department events; people I meet randomly around Oxford. I could still improve, but during this new beginning in my life I've taken a deep breath and tried to plunge right in, hoping that by putting people on the "fast track" toward learning how I tick, they'll open themselves up to me in return.
So far, so many of them have. In addition to fretting about myself and my strengths/weaknesses this summer, I also admit to dwelling over these as-of-yet-unknown Rhodies with whom I would be sharing the next two years. Reading their bios, looking at their pictures in the official Rhodes Trust announcements, was enough to make me fall into that so-called "impostor syndrome" right away. By which I mean, These people are so brilliant, and they've practically cured cancer by age 22! How on earth did I ever sneak into this cohort? How will I ever measure up? Fortunately, though, I've since found out that everyone else felt this way. We've had a bit of fun laughing over our "official" bios since we met each other. Also fortunately, everyone is incredibly nice. I don't know if I've mentioned it on this blog enough, but all the Rhodies are among the most brilliant and talented, but also the most kind and friendly and down-to-earth people I have ever met. Most of all, they are so normal. We've made corny jokes and capered around Oxford and fallen into the same newbie American flubs in the UK, and last night sang "Happy birthday" pretty obnoxiously in a pub for one of the members of our class. All while discussing larger questions related to philosophy, theology, physics, literature, social justice. It still feels surreal to be among this company.
Anyway, I've found that with this group of people that I can open up much more quickly than I ever expected. Upon popular demand (no, not even my own idea), I just started a weekly sign language group in Rhodes House. The first session, yesterday, was so packed with people that several had to sit on the floor, and I couldn't watch so many sets of hands all at the same time. People are fingerspelling at me right and left. They've sent me emails asking if they're making themselves easy enough to lipread, asking me if we can grab coffee and chat more in a quieter setting. Several have started gobbling up signs as quickly as I'll teach them, which has made gossiping about the rude bartender in the pub that much easier (and that much more amusing). I'm still needing to take that deep breath before I meet someone new and set out the ground rules, but my Rhodes cohort at the least has made that challenge much easier. I'm relaxing more, feeling more like myself, and doing that far quicker than I thought I would before I arrived in Oxford. This doesn't mean things aren't still difficult at times, as I talked about my last post about various international accents -- but that comes with the territory, and I know that the strategies and self-knowledge I've gathered over the years will continue to be helpful.
So, to culminate this ridiculously long post, onward! And here's to infiltrating this class of Rhodies (and the other Oxford people I meet) with an overwhelming amount of sign language and general deaf-awareness by the time I'm through.
So far, so many of them have. In addition to fretting about myself and my strengths/weaknesses this summer, I also admit to dwelling over these as-of-yet-unknown Rhodies with whom I would be sharing the next two years. Reading their bios, looking at their pictures in the official Rhodes Trust announcements, was enough to make me fall into that so-called "impostor syndrome" right away. By which I mean, These people are so brilliant, and they've practically cured cancer by age 22! How on earth did I ever sneak into this cohort? How will I ever measure up? Fortunately, though, I've since found out that everyone else felt this way. We've had a bit of fun laughing over our "official" bios since we met each other. Also fortunately, everyone is incredibly nice. I don't know if I've mentioned it on this blog enough, but all the Rhodies are among the most brilliant and talented, but also the most kind and friendly and down-to-earth people I have ever met. Most of all, they are so normal. We've made corny jokes and capered around Oxford and fallen into the same newbie American flubs in the UK, and last night sang "Happy birthday" pretty obnoxiously in a pub for one of the members of our class. All while discussing larger questions related to philosophy, theology, physics, literature, social justice. It still feels surreal to be among this company.
Anyway, I've found that with this group of people that I can open up much more quickly than I ever expected. Upon popular demand (no, not even my own idea), I just started a weekly sign language group in Rhodes House. The first session, yesterday, was so packed with people that several had to sit on the floor, and I couldn't watch so many sets of hands all at the same time. People are fingerspelling at me right and left. They've sent me emails asking if they're making themselves easy enough to lipread, asking me if we can grab coffee and chat more in a quieter setting. Several have started gobbling up signs as quickly as I'll teach them, which has made gossiping about the rude bartender in the pub that much easier (and that much more amusing). I'm still needing to take that deep breath before I meet someone new and set out the ground rules, but my Rhodes cohort at the least has made that challenge much easier. I'm relaxing more, feeling more like myself, and doing that far quicker than I thought I would before I arrived in Oxford. This doesn't mean things aren't still difficult at times, as I talked about my last post about various international accents -- but that comes with the territory, and I know that the strategies and self-knowledge I've gathered over the years will continue to be helpful.
So, to culminate this ridiculously long post, onward! And here's to infiltrating this class of Rhodies (and the other Oxford people I meet) with an overwhelming amount of sign language and general deaf-awareness by the time I'm through.
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