emanuelle sippy—assignment 25—whether told through sign language interpreters or in thick-accents

I think it's hard for me to write this one because I feel like I've told bits of pieces of my story in responding to all the prompts and have already been repetitive. I don't want to say the same thing, so this time I'll try something different—less me, more the people who've shaped me and my sense of purpose in the world. 

Grandpa Lachman immigrated to America as a graduate student; he was only one of 6,000 Asian Indians to enter the U.S. between 1947 and 1965. In his retirement, he spends countless hours tutoring children and helping them access opportunities that might otherwise be out of their reach. 

Nani listened to patients in mental health crisis in Richmond, CA, counseling mothers who resorted to feeding their babies McDonald’s in order to keep them from starving. 

Grandpa Jonathan heard the shots of the 1972 Yom Kippur War, but he also heeded calls for peace, removing shrapnel out of the eyes of soldiers, Palestinian and Israeli alike. 

Grandma Carol documented the stories of Holocaust survivors, so we not only remember for those who came before us but also for those who will come after. 

Mom seeks to make the strange familiar and the familiar strange through teaching students the nuances of religion & violence and women & gender studies. (She claims if you put certain words in the titles of your classes, more students will want to take them. Hence: Sex, Jews, & Gender, Desire & Diaspora, and Sexuality & Religious Controvestory).

Aba builds interfaith coalitions through hearing and uplifting the experiences of others, addressing that the undocumented community has largely been left out of COVID-19 relief. 

Working to repair the world may not be genetic, but for me, it’s never been elective; it’s an expectation. 

The first roundtable I ever attended was at the Kentucky School for the Deaf. I was in eighth grade, sitting in an over-air conditioned room with strangers, but ironically, this was the place I learned the power of listening.

A few weeks later, I sat down with refugee and immigrant students. I became immersed in their words—the dichotomy between their unflinching gratitude to this country and the daily slur of their classmates’ insults, which they repeated without anger and with remarkable eloquence. 

Stories are vital, whether told through sign language interpreters or in thick-accents. I'd like to think mine lies in listening (but tbd I'm a bit too much of an extrovert for that to be the case).