On Equality.

civil rights

The rights of citizens to political and social freedom and equality.

I think most of us hear “civil rights” and think Martin Luther King, marches on Washington, sit-ins at the Woolworth counter, and countless other images of the 60’s.  We think of race, and perhaps class and gender.  When learning about the Civil Rights Movement in elementary school, I was taught that separate but equal was an outdated and prejudiced idea. I was taught that all Americans are entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness and that this country was founded on the ideal that we are all are created equal. I said the Pledge of Allegiance every morning, along with the rest of the schoolchildren in this country, declaring “with liberty and justice for all” before I started my day.

Then I grew up and realized that as much as we are all probably taught that these struggles for civil rights are a part of our history, they are very very much a part of our present.  I understood the meaning behind that Pledge of Allegiance I said so mindlessly every morning for more than a decade, with my hand over my heart.  I learned that the American brand of equality is conditional.  

Growing up in a household with deaf parents, the motto was: accept everyone.  One of the most valuable things my mother instilled from an early age was the importance of tolerance and equality. She continually reminded us to treat everyone the same, because we are all people.  It’s such a simple message, but it’s a powerful one.

I went to an all- women’s college.  I work for it presently.  I have many friends and colleagues who are gay and lesbian.  I am incredibly proud to live in Massachusetts, where we have been granting gay marriages since 2004- the first state to do so in this country.


As far as I am concerned, there is more than one civil rights movement.  Today we watched one of those play out in what will surely go down in history as a pivotal point in the fight for LGBT equality.  When I read that DOMA is dead, I cried.  It’s progress.  It’s progress that should’ve been made long ago.  It strikes down a despicable legacy of discrimination known as the “Defense of Marriage Act,” signed by a President who had about as much respect for his marriage as I do for Scientology (read: ZILCH.).

The Supreme Court decision today gets the federal government OUT of people’s bedrooms.  It tells children of gay couples that their parents are not weird or wrong to love each other and that the family they’ve forged is just as valuable and meaningful as the one with a mom and dad.  It tells gay and lesbian couples that their relationships will no longer be considered unworthy of the same protections and respect by the country in which they probably pay taxes, vote, and contribute to society.  It means that loving couples can express their commitment to each other in the same way that I can.  It means that they can enjoy the same legal and financial protections as heterosexual couples.

If there is ONE thing I have learned in life it’s that you cannot choose who you love.  Gay or straight- doesn’t matter.  You love who you love. So, a hearty thank you to the five Supreme Court Justices who decided that we will no longer SELECTIVELY grant our citizens the rights to life, liberty and equality (to the remaining four- I say, “HA. Nice try. And Clarence Thomas of the Anita Hill scandal- I can’t say I’m surprised.”).  It’s a huge step in the right direction in an ongoing fight.


It’s been a banner day for Civil Rights today.  Thanks to the incredible fortitude and bravery of Wendy Davis in Texas (of all places!), women there will go to bed tonight knowing they’ll wake up on more days of NOT being told what they can and can’t do with their bodies.

This fourth of July, there is so much to be thankful for.  I’m proud to live in this country today- slowly, but surely, we are working towards making the words “liberty and justice for all” ring true.


Miss Communication

Here are a couple of  little public service announcements for you.   First, always be careful when signing “hungry.”


More than one swipe of your hand and it means hungry for something else entirely.  Second,  if you teach your friends how to sign “bitch,” it’s probably going to come back and bite you in the ass at some point.  Voila! Those are my announcements for today.

Anyway, this morning, I made my usual pit stop at Starbucks for my usual overpriced (yet delicious) latte.  While I was waiting for said latte, I spotted a guy wearing this shirt for gay pride today in Boston:

For those of you who don't know how to fingerspell: this says "equal" and it's part of the human rights campaign for gay, lesbian and transgender equality.

For those of you who don’t know how to fingerspell: this says “equal” and it’s part of the human rights campaign for gay, lesbian and transgender equality.

Curious as to where he got it, I politely inquired, and wasn’t shocked when he didn’t respond, but looked up in a delayed reaction and signed, “sorry, deaf.”  I smiled and proceeded to sign, “No problem.  Where’d you buy your shirt? ”  He was pleasantly surprised and we struck up a quick conversation.  The entire time we were chatting, all of Starbucks stared.

Now, I’m accustomed to being stared at when I sign with my mom.  It’s blatant and I think that it goes with the territory.  It’s not all that commonplace for many people and so they’re curious.  It doesn’t bother me.  But certainly, in this case, the irony of this was not lost on me.  We were chatting in sign language about a shirt that advertises “equality.”  I was reminded of the fact that there are inequalities that befall people like my mom and others who are profoundly deaf- it’s everywhere.

Every movie theater that doesn’t offer accommodations, every insurance company that won’t cover hearing aids, every play or public event that doesn’t have interpreters, shitty captioning on Youtube, Netflix offerings without captioning, people who say nasty things, think deaf people are stupid, and don’t bother to repeat themselves- they are all perpetuators of inequality.  Shame on them.  And while we’re at it, shame on anyone who thinks it’s within their rights to tell ANYONE who they should or shouldn’t love.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how we communicate lately, in my master’s program studies, as a designer, as a hard of hearing person, as a daughter of deaf parents, and it blows my mind to think about the thousands of different ways that we deliver messages- literally and figuratively-to the world around us.  But let’s be honest- there is nothing like a little deaf (mis?)communication for a good laugh, so here are some good ones as of late.

During an increasingly desperate search for a lamp for my new parsons desk:

Me: Let’s go to Cardi’s furniture.  I’m desperate- I’ve been looking for a lamp for my new desk for a MONTH.

Mom:  I HATE that place.  They stalk you and follow you around.  They told nana she had to have someone with her when she went in there!

Me:  Well, THAT’S creepy…

Mom: I KNOW!  Let’s just sign the whole time, pretend to be deaf mutes, and they’ll leave us alone!


It’s always super fun to pretend to be stone deaf and then shock the crap out of people when I speak.

Late one night on text:

Josh:  What do you think are the odds mom will get me Taco Bell on her way home from work?

Me:  Er…She’s not so good with the drive thru and that’s the only thing open now, yes?

Josh: I really want Taco Bell.

Me: First, ew.  But, sometimes she drives up to the speaker, waits until she hears SOMETHING (or not), yells, “I’m deaf, I have to come to the window!” and just drives on.  Sometimes I can still hear them yelling as she’s driving away.

Josh: Ok, so, maybe no.

A few days later….


I’m pleased (for my brother) to report that this one was a win, people!

Elements of Party Style in a Pinch

Pinterest mocks the best intentions of every party hostess with its myriad photos of perfectly executed fairytale parties for little girls and twee vintage inspired decor for adult parties. What's a gal with a full-time job, design deadlines, and zero time to do?

(Click for source)

First, I accepted the fact that I could not execute a party to rival the scale of TomKat's nuptials, and no one was expecting me to pull a Martha and construct the table and chairs from hand-hewn wood planks I carved in my backyard. It was just a party with some friends and they understand the demands of my life. They were coming for the booze, anyway.

This did NOT mean that I needed to sacrifice my artistic vision competely. I assessed the possibilities amongst things I already had. I knew that I didn't need anything over the top- the setting for my party is pretty idyllic in and of itself- A little brick backyard patio with lights already strung from a wooden sukkah that covers the patio (my landlords are Jewish and built it last Easter- I love it!) and a cute little table. My favorite feature? Definitely the lights!

First, the table. This is where my hoarding of pretty/interesting/funky/cool fabrics (your mileage may vary) comes in handy.

I happened to have these on hand and decided that these could double as tablecloths. They contrasted nicely- in a “patterns gone wild” kind of way- with these paper plates I picked up from Ikea ages ago in anticipation of a shindig just like this.

Yes, this picture was taken the night of the party and yes, that is an empty wine bottle in the background. I TOLD you they were just in it for the booze!

But the piece de resistance? My vintage pyrex collection, which I rarely break out, due to a debilitating fear of something breaking into a thousand pieces (especially my “Colonial Mist” bowls). I think it's on par with this:


This stuff conjures up visions of frilly aprons, casseroles, frigidaire tiffany blue rerigerators (maybe that's just me?), and makes me want to do my best Jackie O. hairflip imitation and put on Mad Men.

I have this! The dish, not the crappy husband. (click for source)

It's bright, colorful, and adds just a little vintage flare to any meal without having to break out the tuna casserole recipe. Every year, I go to Brimfield Fair and pledge to only buy a couple of rare pieces and every year, I surpass this alotment. By a lot. So sue me.

Temptation at Brimfield- how am I supposed to resist??

Having raided my stashes, I then thought about additional touches that I could make myself. I'm not talking papier mache statues of each guest, but small measures that give an added element of festivity. Naturally, I turned to my embossing gun (it was either that or my glue gun and after the last time I got burned with it, we're on the outs) and one rare free night, I used swatches from my paint chip collection (built up over many years of hoarding paint chips on the rare occasion I make it to the suburbs and a Lowes or Home Depot) and made little menu cards- one for each dish. This is a clear glitter, so it's not over the top, but adds a little sparkle that will reflect nicely in candlelight when it grows dark.

Lastly, the flowers. I needed a vase or other acceptable vessel-something for (I hate this word. Gag me for using it) the tablescape (auto spellcheck wants me to type “tables ape”- how utterly fitting). This was easy. I have an unnatural love for decoupage, and one of my favorite canvases is the wine bottle. I love that I can make candlestick holders or little vases. I figured I could pair my favorite one with a blue mason jar picked up at Brimfield Fair last year and voila- table decor.
A couple of clear mason jars for utensils and BOOM, I was in business and ready to move onto the menu. But that, my friends, is for another post.