I am often asked what novels I would recommend with authentic Deaf characters. Unfortunately, there haven’t been any, so far, that have felt sufficiently authentic that I would recommend them. In the end, to see my Deaf experiences represented on the page, I had to write my own.
But now I have read True Biz by Deaf author Sara Novic, and I can wholeheartedly recommend it. If you enjoyed my book, Futre Girl (Australian title) or The Words in My Hands (North American title) you will probably love True Biz.
The book is set in a fictional Deaf school in America, and covers the perspectives of a Deaf lesbian CODA principal; a deaf teenager who cochlear implant failed her, leaving her with very little language; and a Deaf boy from a family with many generations of Deaf people, who grew up in an environment rich with language and culture. Those of us in the Deaf community will recognise the latter two as archetypes, though the hearing world may be oblivious to these types of circumstances and how they affect us. Novic does a good job of exploring their experiences in detail in a way that will help us better understand others with a similar background.
The book is well written, engaging, and every page is absolutely packed with Deaf experience, in a way that I found deeply satisfying. Many issues that come up within the Deaf community were touched on and I would love loved to see these explored further, though the book is already a substantial read, so that would probably need to be done in a sequel.
One example includes a black Deaf character who calls out a white Deaf character for racism, as he assumed the superiority of ASL (American sign language) as used by white people, not realising that BASL (Black American Sign Language) is a valid language in its own right that is actually closer to the origins of ASL than ASL as it is used today. At the Milan conference in 1880, it was decided (by hearing people) that sign languages were inferior and that deaf people should be exclusively taught using the oral method. This led to decades of oppression as white deaf children were denied the right to sign, and thus ended up with little language at all. Ironically, in being ‘forgotten’ and not included in this new policy, black Deaf children were in segregated schools and continued to sign. Thus the language evolved, creating the dialect that is known as BASL today. With a white supremist attitude, BASL signers are often told that their signs are incorrect, with the assumption being that the signs used by white people are the ones that should stand. I would have loved to know more about this character’s experiences and background, and to understand on a deeper level the racism she experiences, as this is a topic I was unaware of before I read True Biz.
Another example is a hearing interpreter with a Deaf family. In an interpreting job, he learns confidential information that will affect the future of his family members. As he is currently trying to decide the best pathways for his children, he has access to information that will influence his choices. And yet, ethically, he is supposed to remain tight-lipped and not share what he knows. The Deaf community is small and confidentiality can be a real issue. This is further compounded by the fact that Deaf people are frequently left out when it comes to acquiring knowledge of what is happening in real time, so it is typical for Deaf people to deliberately share knowledge with each other. In my own community, Deaf people have been known to miss flood warnings, with catastrophic consequences, so now if one of us learns of a warning, we will proactively contact others to pass on the news. This passing on of news is a custom in the Deaf community. Balancing this with the need for confidentiality in certain circumstances can be challenging. I would have loved the book to explore this further. There wold be potential to touch on a contemporary issue experienced by me and those in my local community – having hearing people decide on our behalf that it is better for us to ensure confidentiality by having services provided to us by people outside the Deaf community, rather than ensuring cultural competence by allowing us to access services provided by other Deaf people. I don’t believe that this is a decision hearing people should be making on our behalf.
I have been a Deaf activist for many years, but there was still much for me to learn from True Biz. Learning aside, it’s a great novel with an engaging story, and I quickly came to care about the characters. Having read a lot of school stories involving nastiness and bullying, it was heart-warming to read of the kindness of characters towards one another, and it was a world I felt drawn to re-enter, each time I picked up the book.
Yesterday my chickens arrived! They are a special meat breed of bird which apparently fatten quickly and make delicious eating. I was vegetarian for 20 years, but in the last couple of years I’ve started to eat meat again for health reasons. I’ve never had anything against people eating meat, though I’ve always thought it would be most ethical to raise the animals yourself, and probably kill them too. Since I started eating meat, I’ve been trying to gird myself to actually live according to my principles, and raise my own meat.
There are other reasons why I believe it’s good to raise our own meat. The meat industry can be pretty cruel. I only eat meat from local farms where I’m pretty satisfied that they raise their animals well and kill them humanely. But even so, surely I can give them a better life in a suburban backyard than when they are raised on a commercial scale. Afterall, our home-produced eggs are so much better than the most expensive organic free range eggs we can buy. Like the eggs, I’d expect the meat to be more nutritious – though who can really know. Also I am concerned about the amount of wastage that occurs. Despite repeated requests, I’ve never been able to obtain chicken heads or feet for soup. What happens to them all? Are they chucked out? Recently, watching a fisherman fillet a fish, and waste all but the very best bits of it, I realised that it’s probably the same in the meat industry. We are in the habit of eating the muscle meat but not the organs (though they are very good for us), and in our society it’s rare to make stock from bones these days.
I also want to really understand how much food I can produce in my backyard. I already produce 80% of my family’s fruit and vegies. Could I produce a good portion of our meat onsite too? I’d like to find out.
I am probably in for quite a journey, emotionally. The chicks that arrived yesterday are adorable. They are so cute I’ve already sat for ages, watching and watching them. To think that one day I’m going to kill them, with my bare hands, is quite astonishing. Somehow I’m going to have to gird my loins, toughen my heart and do it. I’m curious to see how I emerge on the other side of this.
In case you would like to consider raising your own chickens for the table, here’s the practicalities.
I bought the chickens from a hatchery in Queensland, Australia: Peak Poultry Supplies. They cost $2 per day old chick, plus $30 for shipping (up to 100 birds in a carton). I would have liked to buy them locally, but despite researching for two years I’ve been unable to find a farmer in Victoria who will sell me meat chicks. If you know of any avenues for me to research with this, please tell me! I’m still looking, for my next batch.
I bought starter crumble for their food, though I’m hoping once they are a little older I can mostly feed them worms, insects and greens from my garden. Ultimately I would like to make my own food for them from day one, but I haven’t found enough information to do this yet. I also bought a small feeder and waterer. I picked these up from a stock feed shop, where they were a fraction of the price they go for in pet shops. In an op shop I found an adjustable lamp, and I bought a 60 watt globe from the hardware.
For now I’m keeping them in a cardboard box. I lined the bottom with several layers of newspaper and a bag of well rotted sawdust I had lying around. When the sawdust has run out, I’ll put dirt on the bottom. I’ll compost all the litter when it’s too dirty for the chickens to use any more. As they grow, I’ll move them to my rabbit cage, which is bigger, and then I hope to put them in with my egg-laying chooks.
I’ve put the lamp quite low over their box, and in the coming weeks I’ll gradually raise it. If the chicks are too cold, they’ll huddle tightly together under the lamp. If they’re too hot they’ll fan out away from it. I’ll use their behaviour to tell me how high to put the lamp.
All up it’s costing me $6.40 per bird, though if I do this again it will be much cheaper since I’ll already have the lamp, waterer, feeder etc, and maybe by then I’ll be able to make my own food too.
With meat breeds of birds, because they fatten so fast, when they get to a certain age (weight), their legs may be too weak to hold them up, and they could break. In the industry they are slaughtered just before this happens – its cruel to have a chook live with broken legs. Thus the birds need to be slaughtered promptly at 6-8 weeks of age. My friend Roderick, who is joining me on this mission, and will show me how to kill the birds, tells me that home-reared chooks are much healthier and less prone to this problem – hence you can wait longer before slaughtering.
Other people I’ve mentioned this to say I should get a breed of birds that aren’t specifically for meat, so that I don’t participate in this cruelty. However, regular chickens can take 4 months to be fat enough for the table, which means you need to feed them a LOT more grain, a serious negative, both financially and for the environment. Because of my touring, I’ve decided to go with meat breeds so I can do it as a quick project. However, I’m hoping Roderick is right, because then I can start slaughtering at 6 weeks, doing two birds at a time (one for the table, one for the freezer), and really spread the killings over a longer period. That way we aren’t clogging up our freezer, and we can plan on eating, say, a bird a week.
If the birds are healthy, maybe we can even raise a breeding pair to egg laying age, get some fertile eggs, and then I can raise my next batch without needing to order from Queensland. Fingers crossed. Though I’m not very optimistic about this plan – I think a rooster crowing at 5am might do permanent damage to our relationship with our neighbours.
Chickens for meat update
Nov 28, 2011 by Asphyxia
Here’s my chicks when they were two weeks old:
I took these photos just after I moved them out of the cardboard box, and into the wire framed rabbit cage. They had suddenly grown fatter overnight and looked like they could hardly stand up. While in the first week they scratched at the dirt and did nice chicken behaviours, suddenly it seemed they couldn’t even stand on one leg to scratch. Their walk turned into an awkward waddle. I thought they’d need a bigger cage to make sure they got exercise and learnt to manouver their fat bodies around.
Unfortunately though, I think I moved them to the wire cage too soon. Being larger, it is also colder, even with blankets draped over it. They huddled together so tightly that two of the chickens got injured and died – trampled to death? I quickly moved the chicks to a wooden box instead, a bit larger than their original cardboard box. Since then, no more deaths, thank god. But I noticed that they tended to sit all day. If they were eating, they’d be eating sitting down. They’d only waddle the minimum distance they had to and collapse onto their bellies. I decided it was time for them to go outside.
For their first trip to the great outdoors, I put down a mini fence that is normally garden bed edging, and made sure I gave them a spot with both sun and shade. They were absolutely thrilled. Instead of sitting down, they all got to it, pecking around, exploring, testing out the plants and generally fossicking around.
After a few days of this, I was lifting them into the box to carry them back to the bathroom, when they suddenly worked out how to flutter their way out of the box. Clearly I was using a box that was too shallow. They were so happy, freeranging, that I let them go free for a few hours.
Today, they are three weeks old, I’ve let them go free in the garden all day, and guess what? They are doing all the things chickens should: standing on one leg to scratch, fluttering from one place to another, dust bathing, and pecking at everything… hooray! They seem very healthy. I think they were so bored in their cardboard box that they had nothing to stand up for.
For now they are hanging out in the box overnight, and I’ll free range them in the garden during the day when I’m home.
They eat so much food I’m in shock. They whipped through my 5kg bag of starter crumble in the first ten days. The amount they eat increases every day. I’ve now worked out how to make my own food for them. It’s more expensive and more work than starter crumble, but I’m sure it’s far, far more nutritious.
Homemade starter crumble recipe:
4 cups grain, coarsely ground – I use a mix of wheat, corn, barley, oat grain – whatever I’ve bought cheaply in bulk. 1/4 cup flax seeds – I don’t grind these as they go rancid quickly, and they are small enough for the chicks to peck whole. 1/4 cup seaweed – I collect my own from the beach, dry it in the sun for a few days, and grind it to a coarse powder. This provides minerals. 3 tsp salt – since I had washed the salt off my seaweed. If using unwashed seaweed, maybe just 2 tsp? Use unrefined salt to provide minerals. 2 tbsp cod liver oil – to provide vitamins A and D, and for general good health. I bought a big bottle of animal grade oil from a feed shop. 2 tbsp fat – I use the tallow that we scrape off the top of stock when we cook it. 1 tbsp molasses – provides vitamins. 1 cup protein – eggs, fish, meat….
Mix everything together and feed to the chicks.
Apart from the protein, I only had to buy the cod liver oil and flax seeds specially. These are both optional – I include them because I want the chooks to have optimum nutrition, and hence to provide very nutritious meat for me to eat. I buy grains and salt cheaply in bulk for my family, so it’s no drama to feed some of our supply to the chooks. The protein, however, has been a bit more challenging, since I want to get it for free. I got some fish carcasses from the market, ground up the meatier bits in my food processor, and then dried them in my dehydrator. The result crumbled into fine “pellets” that mixed well with the rest of the feed. When that ran out, I fed them scrambled eggs fried up with greens from the garden. The fish shop will have more free fish for me tomorrow, but in the meantime I’m not sure what to do for protein. I’ve got a bucket of snails that I picked off the garden last night – maybe I can crush them? There’s also worms in my worm farm – maybe I can pick out a handful for the chooks?
So far, at 3 weeks, the chicks have eaten their way through a 5kg bag of starter crumble, and 5 batches of the above homemade recipe. Yikes! I can see why eating a lot of meat is not good for the environment – they go through SO MUCH grain!
Meat Chickens update
Dec 12, 2011 by Asphyxia
Here’s my meat chickens at 3 and a half weeks of age…
Chickens for meat update
Dec 24, 2011 by Asphyxia
You might want to skip this post if you are vegetarian or squeamish. I did it – slaughtered my very first chicken for meat. I’m not going to go into all the how-to details here – leave a comment if u want to know more, and I’ll email you.
The main thing for me has been the emotional journey. Could I really raise a flock of adorably cute chicks, fall in love with them, spend hours watching their antics while tending to them several times a day, and then somehow kill them and still enjoy eating the meat? I desperately wanted the answer to be yes, because it’s a way to make sure the animals I eat have the best possible life.
I chose two of the biggest roosters, but not the biggest healthiest one because I’m still hoping there’s a chance I can raise my own chicks from eggs. I spared the little ‘doomed’ chicken that follows me around. I sequestered them in a small cage overnight, so they’d miss dinner and breaky (cleaner to slaughter if their guts and crop are empty). I felt a bit mean, but Paula pointed out that the hunger was the least of their problems.
Roderick came over to show me what to do. I was all business and determination – I refused to allow sentimentality to get in the way. Roderick did the first one, pulling its neck. But when I tried that, mine didn’t die. I tried a couple more times but no go. Roderick held him on the chopping block for me, and I cleavered off its head – fast, calm and decisive.
Blood went EVERYWHERE – very gory. But somehow I remained steely-nerved. I stayed detached right through plucking and butchering, both of which were easier than I’d expected. Once the chickens were processed, they looked just like the ones you see in the shops, and weighed 1.1kg (size 11), which is small, but pretty amazing I think, for a chook that was only reared for 6 weeks. Also, with my no waste policy, I kept a bag with giblets and feet, which I’ll use in stock. We plucked the feathers into a pot of soapy water – they are now zipped into a pillowcase, ready to be turned into a coat for winter.
Roderick told me the livers would be good fried with herbs. After he left, I was still in such sturdy shape emotionally, that I decided to eat the livers for lunch! Paula fried them for me in butter, garlic, and herbs (all home produced) and they tasted STUNNING. I remembered eating a chicken liver salad in France, which tasted like this, but when I tried to reproduce it at home with liver frpm the market, it tasted awful. Now I know the secret! I’ve got plenty more chicken liver delights coming up. I wonder if thr meat will be as amazing, too? The chickens are in the freezer now. We’ll try one in a week or so.
So, it seems I CAN do it, and I can’t tell you how relieved I am. I think it helps that I’ve been practising killing things. First I watched a rabbit slaughter in Italy, 2 yeas ago. I felt ill afterwards – nauseous and horrified. The next day I watched s chicken slaughter. I was much better prepared, but it still made me feel pretty queasy. Fast forward to this year: I went yabby fishing and cooked up my catch. I couldn’t enjoy eating them though – all I could see on my mind as I chewed was the image of them archig away from the boiling water, and clutching my tongs. Yikes. A few months later, I killed 3 fish. It might not sound like a big deal, but to me, fish are as alive as chickens, and I really had to steel myself to do it. But I did, and ate the fish on the same day. I managed to enjoy the meals, and mentally was able to separate the kill from the food. Now, it seems the practise has stood me in good stead.
I did head upstairs for a big lie down after I’d eaten the livers. And at the end of the day, when I was feeding my 12 remaining chickens, there really did seem to be fewer in my flock – I felt a real pang of sadness, and a sense that my babies were incomplete: an urge to go searching for them.
I’m deeply grateful to Roderick for showing me what to do. This journey has been years in the making, as I’ve worked up to this point. He made it possible, and it feels like a major milestone. I reckon I’m confident now to go it solo next time. Just gotta buy a cleaver and sharpen it by next Thursday.
Chickens for meat sum up
Jan 17, 2012 by Asphyxia
I’ve just about completed my chickens for meat journey. All the birds but two are slaughtered, and they’ll be dispatched this week. I had to give up my breeding hopes, because one of the chooks got sick with Mycoplasma Synoviae. It’s a bacteria like a cold, which causes lameness and is highly contagious. It’s very common in commercial flocks, and it seems likely that my chooks inherited it from their parents, and will then come down with the illness when they are under stress. Since my chooks are considerably overweight, that counts as stress, and makes them vulnerable to the infection. Once the chook comes down with Mycoplasma Synoviae, we have to kill them and we can’t eat them. (We could go the vet route, antibiotics etc, but I’m not prepared to do that.) In my mind, all that work in raising the chook, and its life, and the cost of its feed, have all been wasted. I decided that rather than risking my other chooks coming down with it, I would despatch them quickly to avoid possible wastage.
So… last week was a very full on week, starting with emergency dispatch and composting of the sick chook, and then slaughtering two the next morning, and two the morning after that. It felt like we didn’t get a break from the emotions that go with killing, and the exhaustion that goes with being steely, so it was a pretty heavy week. I see now that slaughtering two chooks a week is very do-able. Slaughtering five makes it feel like I’m living in a kill-fest. This week we decided to do two today and two on Thursday, so that we’ll have a day’s break in between. Hopefully that’ll feel easier.
It takes 40 minutes to kill and process each bird. Paula and I work together for an hour and forty minutes, including some preparation and cleaning up time. It doesn’t sound like much out of our day, but I really do feel exhausted afterwards and seem to need my nap. And I think it’s better not to do anything else major for the rest of the day if possible. Maybe I’ll get tougher eventually but that seems to be the right balance for me to manage it.
The weights of the birds ranged between 1.1kg (at six weeks) to 2.6 (the very biggest bird, slaughtered at nine weeks). We had a 2.3kg bird, but the rest were under 2kg. The final birds we did in week ten were 1.7 and 1.9kgs. If we’d done them at eight weeks I reckon they would have weighed about 1.2 – they were the smallest. Feeding them for two weeks to gain about 500g is not very efficient, I think.
So, now it’s just about over, would I do it again? Definitely, yes. It gives me a true appreciation for the meat that I eat. I feel like eating a bit less of it now (very appropriate because I think I was eating too much), and what I do eat feels very precious. The homegrown chooks taste unbelievably good. Much, much better than the best biodynamic chicken we can buy. I know my chooks have a really good life, that they are well loved and pampered, have a stimulating existence full of foraging and a big variety of fresh greens to peck at. I think it would be hard to reproduce that on a commercial scale.
Next time, I think I’ll do slightly fewer birds, maybe twelve, rather than sixteen. I think I’ll dispatch them all between six and eight weeks, as they didn’t really gain that much weight beyond eight weeks, and were much harder to kill after eight weeks as their bones became a lot tougher. Also beyond eight weeks I’m feeding them in order to maintain their body weight, which is not an efficient use of feed. That will mean killing four birds a week for three weeks. I think it’ll be challenging emotionally but doable.
When they were babies, maintaining their feed and water was quite a big job, as was catching them to return them to their box at night. I think next time I’ll buy a 20kg sack of starter crumble, and then when that’s run out, I’ll switch to my stockfeed shop recipe. Also, we now have a fenced off run, which we didn’t have before. Next time, once the chooks are 2-3 weeks old, I’d like to move them out to the fenced run, ideally into a small insulated house with a lightbulb I can switch on as need. That way I can grow food in the run in advance, and I can hopefully round them up back into their house when it’s cold, rather than having to catch each one individually. I’ve since discovered that using a broom to round up chooks works really well. I wonder if they’ll be that easily rounded up as little babies, with the broom method? I would also buy a larger waterer – by 2 weeks it needed refilling three times a day!
Estimated cost of raising my chooks: 2 bottles of cod liver oil $18 each (I have most of the second bottle left ready for next time). 1 bucket of molasses $20 (I have only used one tenth of the bucket). 4 batches of my 26kg stockfeed recipe $40ish per batch 5kg bag of starter crumble $7 Roughly 10kg of homemade feed, labour intensive! $10ish? The chooks themselves: $30 for shipping, $2 per bird (I bought 16 for me, but I also paid for Roderick’s birds and his share of the shipping). Feeder $7 Waterer $7
I estimate that to raise one chook to eating age of approx 7-8 weeks, it takes around 5kg of grain, 1.5kg of protein, and a corresponding proportion of vitamins and minerals (via seaweed, cod liver oil, molasses). All up, not counting Roderick’s birds, but including the entire shipping, it comes to roughly $300. With three deaths, I’ve ended up with 13 birds, which rounds out to $23 per bird. Belmores, the butcher near us, sells organic whole chickens for $30 for 1.5kgs. However, I believe my meat is FAR more nutritious than any commercial meat, in part thanks to the cod liver oil, molasses, and seaweed that I have fed them, as well as the wider range of herbs and greens they’ve had access to. The supplements have been the expensive components of their diet. If I just bought starter crumble and then grower crumble, it would have been MUCH cheaper, so if economy was your motivation for raising your own meat, then you could definitely do it that way.
Next time I reckon I could do it a fair bit cheaper. I would dry and grind seaweed in advance so I didn’t need to buy it. I wouldn’t have to buy molasses, I’d only have to buy one bottle of cod liver oil, maybe none if I dispatch sooner. I also have a contact for buying grain in bulk, so if I bought it all well in advance at the bulk price, instead of from the feed store, I’d get that cheaper.
I’m going to have a break from chicken raising for a while, and will probably raise another batch next spring. If you’d like in on the venture, let me know, and I can talk with you before I order. Sharing the cost of shipping will make it cheaper. And I’m happy to show you how to dispatch if you want to raise your own chickens and learn enroute. (Obviously this only applies to those of you in Melbourne!)
Anyone who wants to learn how to kill a chook can look here, though I ended up with a bit of a simpler set up.
Chickens for meat – plans for next year
Jan 25, 2012 by Asphyxia
I did this page in my journal to remind me what to do when next year rocks around and I raise another batch of chickens for meat.
I’ve been thinking and thinking about how I can streamline the process and the budget, now that I’ve got a bit of experience. Raising the chicks was a lot of work, and the main thing that was a pain was catching every one of 17 chickens by hand, and carrying them into their box in the laundry, when I needed to bring them in. I’d let them out for an hour or two when it was sunny, and then suddenly a cold wind would spring up. They were only half-feathered at this stage and couldn’t really cope with the cold weather. So frantically we’d try to round them all up, one at a time. Training them to come for food seemed impossible. Then ten minutes later the sun would be out again, and I’d want to let them back into the yard, because they really didn’t seem happy cooped up in their box. You can see how it ended up being a lot of work.
I think next time I need to have a smaller fenced in yard specially for my little chickens, where they are protected from the big egg laying chickens. And I need to set it up so that the chickens can access their home themselves, from the yard. That way I can have their food and water in there at all times, and they should quickly learn to go in there as required. Now I know how handy the broom is, I think with a set up like that, I could just about sweep the chickens through the door with the broom!
Their home would need to be very well insulated, so that the light bulb keeps them sufficiently warm. I’m thinking a low, insulated wooden box, preferably lined with some kind of thermal mass such as bricks on the floor, to hold their heat. The box would have two rooms – a small one for when they are tiny babies, and a bigger one for when they outgrow the little room and don’t need as much heat. I would then use the smaller room to sequester the chickens the night before dispatch (so they don’t eat, and hence are cleaner to butcher).
The roof would open up, an insulated lid, so that I can easily change the water and food. There should be a joist with hooks so that I can hang the waterer and feeder – hopefully their food and water will stay cleaner that way. And ideally, the roof could be locked in a slightly open position, so that on hot nights they have good ventilation.
I did a page in my journal about my plans for next year. I’m not sure if I will actually make this ideal chook house – I will probably find a way to do it though, because I plan for many years of chook raising now that I know I can do it.
Chickens for Meat Update
Jun 1, 2012 by Asphyxia
Well, I’ve slaughtered five chickens now. I wouldn’t say I’m a pro though. I’m doing it every Thursday morning. The first Thursday, as I’ve mentioned, I was steely as anything. But once it was all over I allowed myself to feel a bit weak and emotional. That was fine. But I noticed that as the next Thursday rolled around, I was still feeling weak and emotional. The thought of doing it again was just hideous. In fact I felt quite nauseous thinking about it. Still I knew I had to go through with it, no matter what. After all that build up, actually doing it turned out to be less painful than the thinking about it beforehands. I vowed that in future, I won’t dwell on it. It’s not making it nicer for the chickens, my feeling miserable about their deaths.
So, this last Thursday, I didn’t think about it at all, beyond the basics of what I had to do to prepare. Still, I found myself getting somewhat antsy in the lead up to the chop. Afterwards I felt exhausted. I couldn’t rest – I had a big day of preserving and gardening jobs that simply had to happen. Next week I’ll do everything I can to make it a day off once my chickens are slaughtered.
I can’t tell you, though, what immense satisfaction it was to eat the first one. It tasted delicious, simply exquisite. We stuffed it and roasted it, then had roast chicken pickings in the fridge for days – many delicious meals from that chook. We saved all the bones and Paula has cooked it into a stock, which I hope to start on tomorrow. It was a glorious feeling of abundance, having that whole chook in the fridge, and it feels even more abundant to know that our freezer is slowly filling up with chickens.
I have had to simplify their food though. I simply couldn’t source and process enough free protein to keep up with what my chooks eat. Here’s my new, easier, but still highly nutritious recipe, from ingredients bought at the stockfeed store:
20kg sack of mixed grains (I get wheat, oats, milo, and corn)
5kg bag of meat meal or fish meal
1kg bag of seaweed
10 tablespoons of molasses (I bought a large bucket and am slowly working through it)
150ml cod liver oil (I bought a large bottle).
When I get home, I mix it all up, and keep it in a drum for the chickens. I’ve bought 3 batches of the above so far, along with some other smaller homemade batches of my previous recipe. I’ve got nine chooks left, and they are eight weeks old. Five have been slaughtered so far. I must point out that the above recipe does not constitute the cheapest way to feed chickens. I’ve lost track, somewhat, of the costs involved in feeding them, but it’s been expensive, to say the least. I could definitely do it more economically, but a high priority for me is to make my meat ultra-nutritious, and I’d rather pay more for that.
A new batch of chicks
May 14, 2012 by Asphyxia
We’ve received more chickens! They came on a bus from QLD, though I’m optimistic I now know where to get them in Vic, which I hope to do next Spring. This time I’ve got 15 little chicks, and am sharing them with two neighbours: Suni and Lis. We’ll get 5 chickens each, assuming none of them die. And if a few do die, we’ll share up the meat by weight. Yes, these are for the table. My last lot of chickens were SO DELICIOUS I’m committed to doing this for the long term. I had these babies for a few days, and now they’ve gone to stay with Lis for a few weeks, until they are big enough for the garden, then they are coming back to my place to eat all the greens I’ve planted for them.
Chickens for meat – the latest batch
Aug 2, 2012 by Asphyxia
If you are vegetarian or squeamish, please skip this post. It’s about the chickens I raise for the table.
This batch of chickens was shared with my neighbours Lis and Sunny. The three of us contributed to their care, shared the costs, and then got together on slaughter day to process the meat. It was so much better doing it with a group than going it alone. When things happen like the globe blows and a new one is needed urgently, there was generally one of us available to deal with the problem.
Here’s the chicks as sweet little babies when they arrived.
They came from Peak Poultry Supplies and cost $2 each, plus $30 shipping. They came down from Queensland on a bus, chirping wildly. Next time I hope to buy them from Korumburra Hatchery which is much more local. We shared this shipment with my friend Roderick, so Lis, Sunny and I only paid $5 each for our share of shipping.
We housed them in a wooden box in Lis’ lounge room, with a lamp over the top, a small waterer and a small feeder. We fed them an organic grower mix which is suitable for meat birds. Meat breeds grow very fast, are slaughtered at 8-10 weeks, and need to eat high protein food in order to meet their growth requirements. Each bird eats about 6kg of food during its lifetime. The feed comes in 20kg bags costing about $30 each. If you go the non-organic route, feed can be cheaper.
Poor Lis found them a bit too stinky for the lounge room, even when we changed the litter every day. We have several layers of newspaper in the bottom of the box, and we topped them with some very absorbent rice hulls that Sunni had on hand, until they ran out, and then we went with only newspaper. Roderick bought sawdust from a stockfeed store which has had the dust removed. He found it absorbent and only had to change the litter once a week, though he topped it up most days, I gather. It’s not wise to use regular sawdust as litter because the dust can damage the lungs of the chickens. Next time we’ll put the box in the shed to spare Lis the smell!
Once the chick’s outgrew their tiny home (about two weeks old), they moved to this crate in Lis’ shed:
The litter had to be changed daily, and at the same time the food and water needed to be topped up. The photo shows the chickens at about 4 weeks, just before they moved to my place. They really needed to come to me a little sooner – by three and a half weeks they were just too big to be in this box all day, so Lis and Suni took them for a few outtings in Lis’ garden. Unfortunately I was away at this time, hence the delay in moving them to me.
When they finally moved to my place, we brought the crate too, and set it up in a fenced run I had created for the chickens. I planted it out several weeks before with “clucker tucker” seed, and it was nice and green by the time my chickens needed it. Suni’s husband Marcel had helped me make a door in the crate, which meant the chicks could come and go as they pleased. They’d head outside into their run to peck at greens and scratch in the dirt, but when it got too cold or wet they’d head back inside to eat. By the last week, the chickens were so fat that the food and water had to live outside. Each night I’d close the door, to protect them from foxes.
You can see the fenced run here. This photo was actually taken a few weeks earlier, when the chickens visited me briefly while Lis went away:
The 16 chickens actually flattened and demolished the greenery within a few days. After that I chucked in weeds and herbs for them to nibble on, and added some leaves as litter. Roderick adds free council mulch to his run and finds it very effective in preventing it from becoming a poo-bath. Those chickens really do poo as much as they eat! Luckily I had four fenced runs ready to go, so once a week I moved them on to a new run.
Finally they were eight weeks old and it was D-Day. Here they are, nice and fat, just before we processed them:
We did ten chickens the first day, and the smallest six the following week. The first week Suni’s dad came to give us a hand, and we also had help from Paula’s brother Mark who was staying with us at the time. The huge communal event really helped to take my mind off the sadness of ending their lives – we had to work so fast and hard to process each bird that there wasn’t time to dwell on the ending. Since it doesn’t make a different to the bird whether I dwell on it or not, I think it’s better not to. For the bird the most important thing is a good life and then a very swift efficient death, which is what they got with the cleaver.
The second week it was just Suni, Lis and me doing the killing, while Paula assisted us in the kitchen. I wasn’t sure how we’d go, because at nine weeks the birds are big and have strong necks, which make it difficult with the cleaver. But the three of us turned out to be a tight team. One person held the bird. One person chopped with the cleaver, and the other person then pushed down hard on the cleaver to finish the job, and then helped hold the bird to stop it from flapping while the blood drained out. I was relieved to know we could do it without help from Suni’s dad, or any men with big strong arms.
By the end we were all exhausted. Suni even had to have a nap, which is unheard of for her! But one this is for certain, when you’ve killed with someone, it’s very bonding. Even though chicken slaughter couldn’t possibly be described as an pleasant way to spend the day, I have to admit that it was very satisfying to work so hard with my neighbours, with such a lovely community feeling, and to end up with a freezer-full of meat. Even better, in my mind, is the fact that Suni likes the white meat while Paula and I prefer the red meat, so we divided up our share of the chickens by weight, and each got the kind of meat we like.
Suni and Lis didn’t want the feathers, so I saved them all for my down jacket.
All costs added up, it came to $16 per bird, which is very good considering that to purchase an organic chicken of comparable size costs $30-$35. Mind you, it’s a lot of work. As Suni said: “I’ve never worked so hard for a meal in my life!” But I think that reflects the true cost of the food, and it’s the only ethical way to eat meat if we are going to do so.
(By the way, I was vegetarian for 20 years, and I started eating meat for health reasons. I now need to choose between being perpetually ill, or eating other creatures. Sadly, I would rather kill and eat other creatures than be sick all the time. I have always believed that if one eats meat, one should learn to raise and kill it oneself. Hence my own backyard chicken-raising venture.)
Homemade down jacket
Aug 11, 2012 by Asphyxia
I’ve had a growing bag of washed feathers from my chickens, and I decided to make them into a down jacket. I love wearing a down jacket, and I often borrow Paula’s jacket, but I find it has a yucky, plasticy feeling to it, and an associated plasticy smell which I hate. I decided my jacket would have to be all natural materials so that it would breathe and smell right.
My friend Jenine suggested japara as the fabric, since that’s what doonas are made from – the weave is very fine so the feathers don’t poke through. Unfortunately I could only find white japara at my local fabric store, so I bought that and some black dye. As you’ll see from the photos, the “black” dye wasn’t very black at all, but actually a rather pretty mulberry colour. C’est la vie. I’m quite happy with the colour, though the dye job came out a bit splotchy and looks decidedly handmade. I’m not too fussed about that, since for me the jacket is to wear around the house, like a dressing gown, so that I don’t need to turn on the heater, and can be snugly warm while doing art, washing the dishes and getting my jobs done.
In order to make it easy to get the jobs done, I ended up making the sleeves quite short, and having a long woollen cuff that would roll up. This reduces the bulk around my wrists and makes dishwashing and art easy tasks to undertake while wearing this jacket.
You can see the finished jacket here. Paula forbids me from leaving the house in this jacket, and I have to agree that it’s not the most stylish thing ever, especially when teamed with my homemade ugg boots, which they usually are. (I’m wearing them in this photo.) However, the jacket wins a lot of points for being very warm. It isn’t as warm as my doona, despite being significantly heavier, so it’s not perfect, but it really is keeping the chill off my winter.
To make this, I used the pattern from an old jacket that fit me perfectly. I should have added a bit more ease since the down forces the fabric to bulk out. I sewed the lining to the outter fabric (both japara), and then added all the horizontal seams, so that I had a series of pockets ready to fill with feathers.
When plucking the feathers, we plucked them straight into a bowl of warm water. I then rinsed them in the sieve in the kitchen sink, and stuffed them into a pilowcase which I hung on the line to dry. I sewed them into the pillowcase for security, and saved them up until I had about 5 pillowcases-worth. By that time they’d developed a bit of a smell, so I soaked them overnight in white vinegar and water. Then I washed the “pillows” in the machine on hot wash three or four times until they were fluffy and had no trace of the weird smell. Next I unpicked the seam, removed the damp feathers, and sorted them. I found that by squeezing in my palm I could quickly identify any wing feathers which were too stalky for a jacket, and I set those feathers aside.
What was left got stuffed into the pockets of my down jacket. The first batch I worked with when dry, and they made a hideous mess of the house, despite my most careful efforts. The second batch I stuffed while still damp and that definitely made them easier to control. I then sewed up the jacket and dried it thoroughly.
Finally time for a test wear: and it’s WARM! Very snug! I don’t feel hot in this. I just feel like my body is at its own temperature, which feels just right. But it’s a bit heavy. I think I stuffed too many feathers in some of the pockets. But I’m a bit nervous about the mess involved in trying to extract them, so not sure if I’ll make it a priority to renovate!
I’ve had several periods during my life when I’ve made a real effort to reduce my spending on consumer goods. Buying stuff is bad for the environment, and it’s not good for the wallet either. Almost everything we buy used electricity to make it, used ungodly amounts of water, contributed to water and air pollution, came in packaging that will go to landfill, was often shipped here from another country, driven to our city on a truck… you get the picture. Much of what is available in shops in Australia is also made by people working in miserable conditions. Every time we buy something, we are sending a message to the manufacturer saying “Great – please make another!” And just as we need to reduce our electricity use by turning off lights when we aren’t using them, and unplugging appliances at the powerpoint, we also need to reduce our “virtual” use of resources – that is the resources used to manufacture the things we buy. If this seems obvious, my apologies – it took me quite a while to “get” this particular point, and to connect my buying as clashing with my desire to live sustainably.
I read a great book called Affluenza, which examines the way we spend our money in Australia, and it included quite a few tidbits of eye-opening information for me. The authors point out that the government says we’ve had a good year if we’ve experienced economic growth – that is, if we as a society spent more money than we spent the year before. The only measure of “success” is this – financial – there is no attempt to measure wellbeing, health, contentment or other indicators of a successful society. Similarly, on a personal level, most Australians aspire to financial growth – ie to earn more than we do currently, to own more or more expensive stuff, and to move into a bigger house in a better area when possible. This attitude that “growth is good” forms the backbone of our lives, for most of us.
The government and the marketplace work hard to establish this attitude and keep us operating this way. Much of the message is achieved through advertising. Advertisers, rather than giving us factual information about a product, strive to make us feel discontent with our current situation, and aim to build anxiety and uncertainty, which leads to buying more.
Interestingly, although most Australians believe our society is too consumerist and too materialistic, most of us believe that we as individuals are not, and that we have barely enough money to meet our basic needs. This holds true regardless of how much we earn: most Australians have come to see luxuries as basic necessities, and we deny that our purchases are materialistic. Advertisers capitalise on this, by telling us “You deserve it”, whether it’s a holiday we can’t afford or a fashionable piece of clothing.
When large corporations worried that we might stop spending, they introduced the credit card, so that we could spend money we hadn’t even earnt yet. The convenience of the credit card has led to a culture of instant gratification, which will have to be paid for later. Australians pay for their debts by working longer hours than workers in any other country in the world. These long work hours are causing individuals numerous problems – relationship breakdowns, children who long for more time with their parents, depression, fatigue, ill health, and an obsession with money. Even though most Australians would like more time with their family and friends, this goal is often deferred until later in life (generally retirement), while long hours are put in now to pay for luxurious “basic necessities”.
Almost one quarter of Australian adults, however, have decided to step outside of this cultural model, and “downshift”. Lacking public role models for this, we each operate in isolation, often with the disapproval of those around us, despite the fact that so many of us are doing it. Downshifting means working less hours, working for less pay, and/or consciously consuming less than before. While the income drop can be challenging, especially at first, 90% of downshifters end up with less stress, more time for meaningful activities, better community networks and participation, less anxiety – and the obsession with money generally melts away.
That, in a nutshell, is what I understood from the book. Wow – one quarter of us are downshifting – and there’s no mention of it in the media or anything to help us realise how common our actions are. My readership on this blog has skyrocketed since I started blogging about living sustainably – so it seems there is interest out there.
After making a strict budget for myself for consumer goods one year, I found I didn’t want to spend it on things like socks, undies, watches and so on. So my biggest challenge was to find a way to meet as many of my basic needs as possible in a way that doesn’t involve buying anything new. Op shops meet a lot of my needs.
A few tips for not buying stuff:
stay out of shops and shopping centres.
don’t read magazines (or if you do be very strict and avoid looking at the ads).
don’t watch ads on TV.
if you catch yourself fantasising about various new things you might like to own, try to nip it in the bud and think about something else.
focus on being happy with what you have, and making do with stuff you have on hand or can find.
go to op shops and maintain a running list of items you are watching out for.
try borrowing from a friend instead of buying.
make stuff (from second hand materials), and give gifts that are homemade or provide an experience or service (a gift voucher to a restaurant, to a bath house, a massage voucher). Or give plants, ideally some you’ve raised yourself, preferably in a pot you didn’t buy new.
And a few tips from readers:
make use of your local library rather than buying books
take a good look at why want to shop – are you avoiding something or trying to fulfill an emotional need?
Please send in any more tips! Thanks to those who already did. Read the comments for more insights 🙂
So what about you, is there anything you’re not buying? Have you found any solutions for the ordinary, every day things we “need”?
I have gone through several periods of hard times in my life, and each time I have wanted some kind of gentle art therapy to engage in, but at those times, I have felt too stressed or overwhelmed to adequately guide myself with my own art therapy.
Eventually, by accident, I struck on an art therapy process that worked for me, was engaging enough that I was able to do it for months at a stretch, was easy enough that I could do it when tired and overwhelmed, and was encouraging enough that it consistently boosted my mood.
I used that process to make a book that explored my experience with chronic illness. It was very cathartic and also valuable, as when I have shared the book with others, they have gained an insight into what it is like for me.
Check out the book in this video flip through.
I found this process so incredibly valuable that I ended up making a course, Pour Your HeART Out, which teaches you how you can take your own life and use therapeutic steps to turn it into a book that expresses your experiences. Sign up for the course here.
If you know anyone who might benefit from this, please share this post with them.
While the threats we face from climate change have become well known and understood, the twin challenge of peak oil is not. And yet, it’s just as great a threat to our lifestyle as is climate change. So what is peak oil?
This video from Transition Towns Totnes gives a pretty succinct overview:
There’s more to it than that – to truly understand, you might like to look up some of the films, books and websites mentioned on this page here.
The moment I truly understood peak oil and how it could potentially affect me and my lifestyle was quite shocking. Also the fact that it’s not just some far distant idea, but a reality that is likely to happen in my lifetime. Apparently it’s normal for people to have this ‘moment’, and to feel quite horrified and shocked, before being propelled to do something about it.
That’s when I created this artwork. It was a part of my processing and understanding how dire things could potentially become. Sitting on my desk as a daily reminder, it helped to springboard me to a better place. I decided to change my lifestyle to become less dependent on fossil fuels. To learn the skills I would need in order to live without them.
These are skills that were once passed from generation to generation, but which we are disgarding and casting off as unnecessary. These skills – think darning, think preservation of food to eat out of season, think making shoes and fabric and producing our own food, all without fossil fuels – are the ones that will help us not only survive peak oil, but live a good life.
Once upon a time, our parents and grandparents would have taught us all we needed to know, but my parents and grandparents don’t have the knowledge themselves. It has been a huge journey for me to source people who can teach me skills in all the basic areas of survival. I now know how to produce serious amounts of food from my backyard – both plant and animal-based. I can make baskets and string from plants. I can make shoes and clothing from the fur of a rabbit raised on weeds. I can preserve food to eat it out of season. I’ve learnt to live locally, to get around on my bike and to use the car far less. My life is so much better for it, even though I don’ t use every one of these skills every day. I know what to do now.
When we are faced with the real challenges of peak oil, I hope I’ll be one of those who share my skills, to help others get them when they need them. The artwork I made is about gathering, learning, knowing and passing on the old skills, the skills that will help us live and thrive without petroleum.
Signs in Auslan don’t always correspond directly with English words. This video contains useful Auslan signs that encompass a whole English phrase.
finally – notice the lip pattern here: ‘pah.’ This sign is used frequently – if someone is late and has just arrived, you could sign ‘pah’.
now I get it – the lip pattern here is also ‘pah.’ This sign is used for a moment of enlightenment, when you have suddenly understood something.
good riddance – the lip pattern here is ‘sha.’ You can do this sign in the direction of the thing that you are glad to be rid of.
responsibility – notice the American letter ‘R’ is the basis for this sign. This sign has been borrowed from ASL – American sign language. The borrowing of signs is very common and it’s helpful to know the American alphabet for this reason.
not my responsibility,
not yet. In English we often separate the ‘yet’ and put it at the end of the sentence. Eg, ‘I haven’t eaten yet.’ In Auslan, you cannot separate the ‘yet’ from the not’. You might say: EAT ME NOT-YET.
poor you. Add an expression of sympathy to your face for this sign!
go to bed. One hand forms the bed covers, while the other hand represents the legs of a person going under the covers.
get up. Completing the idea of the previous sign, one hand represents the doona while the other one shows a person standing up.
stuffed. This sign is used when something is completely exhausted, or ‘fucked’. But it’s not rude, the way ‘fucked’ is in English. You use it for an appliance that is damaged beyond repair, or for a person who is exhausted. In the video, I also demonstrate changing the direction of this sign to show myself as exhausted.
day off. It’s easy to think of this sign as starting with a nose-blow, an illness that can lead to a day off.
This post is part of my free online Auslan course. See the rest of the course here.
To learn more about what it is really like to be Deaf, details about the Deaf community and how Auslan is used by Deaf people, read my book, Future Girl.
Role shift is used to describe interactions between two or more people or animals.
Its most common use is when describing a conversation you have overseen between two other people, or a conversation you have had with someone previously. The idea is that you become one speaker, and adopt their position, facial expression and energy, then you say what they were saying, then you change to become the other speaker, with a different position and facial expression, and sign as if you were them.
There are a number of rules associated with the use of role shift, and these may seem very unnatural at first, but become easier with practise.
Warning: role shift is an advanced concept and takes a lot of practise. Here are some rules:
Identify each person first – use classifiers to locate the people in space and say who they each are.
Move shoulders – after you have identified the people, shift your shoulders to “become” each person as they speak.
Use eye gaze – when you are speaking as one of the people you have identified, show them looking at the other person. If the other person is taller, look up, if the other person is lying on the floor, look down.
Use facial expression – show the expression on the faces of each of the people who are talking. Make the contrast between the two people as clear as possible.
Using role shift, you should never use the signs for “he said” and “she asked”. Identify the people you are talking about and then become them, as they converse.
Watch the video to see the following conversation between a mother and her daughter who has just arrived home late.
Mother: (angrily) Where have you been?
Daughter: (defensive) Out.
Mother: I’ve been waiting up for you, worrying! It’s after twelve o’clock!
Daughter: It wasn’t my fault. I rang for a taxi but it didn’t come. I had to wait for another one.
Mother: Well next time, ring me!
Daughter: (as if her mother is being over protective) Alright.
Now have a go at it yourself. Try using role shift to describe a conversation. Then look over the rules and ask yourself whether you remembered to follow all of them.
Chances are, the first few times you’ll forget at least one rule, if not most of them. Try the conversation again, this time with the rules added.
Practise practise practise – that’s the only way you’ll get the hang of role shift.
This post is part of my free online Auslan course. See the rest of the course here.
To learn more about what it is really like to be Deaf, details about the Deaf community and how Auslan is used by Deaf people, read my book, Future Girl.
The average practitioner who cares for Deaf clients has only a superficial understanding of Deafness, making them ill-equipped to support us, assess us, treat us and make recommendations for us. Practitioners involved with the Deaf community are more likely to assess and treat us appropriately.
I include here health practitioners, mental health practitioners, teachers and school principals, occupational therapists, audiologists, and staff at organisations like NDIS and many disability-focused organisations.
To those unfamiliar with Deafness it may seem simple: the person can’t hear. You might think this would lead to rational measures such as contacting the Deaf person by email or text message rather than attempting to call them on the phone, but sadly even these obvious measures are often missed by practitioners working with Deaf clients. In this article I want to show you exactly why practitioners need more than a superficial understanding of Deafness in order to be effective.
Don’t miss the obvious in relating to Deaf clients
Many practitioners miss obvious steps in relating to their Deaf clients, such as expecting them to be able to enter a clinic with an intercom at the front door, and expecting them to be able to talk on the phone. As part of the approval process to get a plan with NDIS, I sent my audiogram, showing a profound level of Deafness, which was passed on to a doctor for verification. This doctor called me on the phone to confirm that I am deaf! Any doctor who knows anything about deafness would have glanced at my audiogram and known that a phone call was fruitless. It astounds me that this person did not remember that Deafness = difficulty on the phone. But this is what I encounter everyday in the hearing world.
Deafness has subtle and surprising ramifications
Beyond stuff that should be obvious to anyone who takes the time to think about how not being able to hear changes the way one should relate to us, it is essential to understand that Deafness affects different people in different ways, and no two Deaf people are the same. But there are some broad categories that affect every aspect of how we relate to the hearing world. A practitioner from the Deaf community knows to ask specific questions early in the relationship in order to establish exactly where their client stands in this regard and what their needs might be.
Some Deaf people cannot use English well
As an example, one category is Deaf people who use Auslan and did not have access to language as young children. It is common for these people to have difficulty with English. A Deaf person with little childhood language access may find it very difficult to access information in today’s world. Such a person might struggle to do a Google search because they cannot read and interpret the results. They might struggle with everyday tasks such as cooking and health management because they have never received adequate education in Auslan in these areas. They might have difficulty understanding subtitles on TV. Their behaviour might not be considered socially appropriate when interacting with others personally and professionally, because they have not received the cues that hearing people receive that inform subtleties of behaviour. Such a person may need significant support in order to catch up on missed learning areas, to access routine information, and to function effectively in our society. Providing an interpreter for work and social occasions doesn’t even come close to bridging the gap. Deaf people in this category may be misunderstood, assumed to have a low IQ, or to be willfully difficult. I have people in this category in my friendship group, and when we sign to each other, I can see their intelligence, insight and sophistication, but when we are in a hearing environment, I see the gaps in their knowledge of the hearing world, and watch hearing people making troublesome assumptions about them.
I have a friend who was assessed by his psychologist as having a low IQ. I know from relating to him that he is a very quick and sharp thinker, and I surmised that the psychologist had used tools made for hearing people to assess him and concluded that he had a low IQ. This diagnosis followed him and went on to give many in the medical profession the wrong idea in terms of how to treat him – he needed education and support for social appropriateness, not supports related to having a low IQ. Had my friend seen a psychologist who could sign fluently and was familiar with Deafness, the psychologist could easily have made an accurate diagnosis and recommended appropriate supports.
Another friend asked the NDIS to fund cooking classes for him, as his parents had been unable to communicate with him as a child, and hence he had not learnt to cook. Without English, he could not utilise the internet to learn independently. He required one-on-one tuition in Auslan. The NDIS representative, the LAC, who had no prior experience of Deafness, was baffled that the need for cooking classes could somehow be related to Deafness, and was resistant to the idea. If he saw an LAC who was familiar with Deafness, he could simply have said that his family didn’t sign, and that would have been enough for the LAC to understand all the implications of that, the missed opportunities from a lack of overhearing, and the LAC could have been in a position to suggest further supports to help him catch up, such as nutrition classes, health classes, English language tuition, a support worker who can help him use Google regularly to find out what he needs to know. A knowledgable person would have been able to suggest things that he himself had not thought of.
Deaf people may have issues with their family, if the family doesn’t sign
Another example of a category of Deaf people is those who prefer to use Auslan but whose families don’t sign. Regardless of where their English skills are at, these Deaf people have something in common – complex emotions regarding their families, such as the desire to be included and to belong, while simultaneously feeling hurt, anger and frustration at their ongoing exclusion. Deaf people in this situation often need significant support to come to terms with the difficult family dynamics and to make decisions about to what extent they will continue to engage while being excluded, to what extent they will insist the family change to include them, and to what extent they will distance themselves and find connection elsewhere. The anguish this causes can be lifelong, yet psychologists who are not familiar with Deafness rarely understand the conflicting emotions involved and the subtleties of the many things that contribute. For example, parents who have spent years heavily invested in speech therapy and efforts to raise their child to be as ’normal’ as possible, may be quite resistant to change. To suddenly be asked to learn sign language can be experienced as a very personal slap in the face. Psychologists who are not familiar with the pressures that Deaf people and their families face need a lot of education, usually provided by the Deaf person themselves, before they are in a position to assist theraputically. I personally find the process so draining that I generally don’t discuss Deaf-related family dynamics with a psychologist unless they are members of the Deaf community themselves.
It is exhausting for us to have to educate practitioners who don’t know anything about Deafness, in order to get our needs met and to guide them in how to treat us.
Practitioners may focus inappropriately on Deafness
For me, even straightforward visits to my local GP for unrelated issues such as iron studies have ended up fraught with Deaf-related problems. Most doctors I see focus too much on my Deafness and do not dedicate the brief time I am able to spend with them to focusing on the reasons I have made the appointment. They will waste time asking when I became Deaf and why, they tell me how well I speak (even when I am not speaking), marvel at the amazingness of Auslan, speak directly to the interpreter and ask her why she became an interpreter and so on. And then I am told that time is up before we have finished dealing with my medical-related questions. If I cut off the doctor and insist we focus on the task at hand (iron studies!) I worry he will find me rude and thus I could destroy goodwill in treating me. So I try to strike a balance between being polite and friendly while at the same time cueing them to pay attention to my medical issues, not my Deafness. This is irritating in the extreme. I cannot begin to describe the relief I felt when I began to see a doctor who had formerly been an Auslan interpreter. We could both sign and were able to relate to each other in a natural way, and suddenly my Deafness never came up unless it was actually relevant. Sadly there is no Deaf-community doctor in my local area and Medicare will not fund me seeing an interstate doctor via Telehealth – I am expected to pay for the appointments myself.
Practitioners may not understand the needs of Deaf clients, and be unwilling to try to meet them
In another example, I was seeing a psychologist before Covid-19 hit. When appointments were moved to Telehealth, I waited to receive a link for a video call, but none came. At the allotted appointment time, the psychologist called me on the phone, expecting to conduct our appointment that way! I wondered how she had failed to grasp the extent of my Deafness, given that I had been seeing her for some time. Due to delays with interpreting, I also requested of the psychologist that we have longer appointments, but she refused, citing Medicare as the reason for refusal, despite the fact that it is well established that appointments conducted with an interpreter take 2-3 times as long as appointments without. Despite my providing resources with guidelines to working with Deaf clients in mental health settings, the psychologist ignored the guidelines and proposed we conduct our sessions via the National Relay Service. This suggestion was ludicrous in the extreme. It would be against the law for a relay officer to do a psychology session as they would not have the appropriate qualification. At this stage, I no longer felt that my psychologist had any rapport with me, any understanding of my Deafness or barriers I face, nor caring for my plight, and felt there was no point attempting to continue the fight for access, so I abandoned the effort. I felt exhausted by the need to advocate for myself and frustrated by the fact that my efforts at advocacy went unheard. I also experienced a significant mental health crash as a result of this saga. It would have been better for my mental health if I had never had any psychology appointment at all to begin with!
Barriers at a systemic level compound the problems
You can see why it is easier for us when we are treated by people who understand Deafness, understand the barriers we face in life which often extend beyond the simple fact of not being able to hear fully, and are able to treat us appropriately. Yet there is much resistance to this at a systemic level. For example, Medicare makes no allowance for the needs of Deaf clients and we are expected to comply with mainstream treatment protocols. Likewise, even NDIA, Australia’s largest disability-focused organisation, does not cater for Deaf clients. Rather than using the significant numbers of staff from the Deaf community to support their Deaf participants, NDIA actively discourages this practice, citing that anonymity is more important than cultural knowledge. Naturally, the decision to prioritise anonymity was made by a person without any understanding of the Deaf community. The Deaf community is small, while we sometimes long for anonymity, this is rarely possible. It is more like living in a small village from the past, when everyone knew everyone else, and there are benefits to this as well as drawbacks. But it is not for a culturally incompetent hearing person to decide for us that anonymity should trump all.
If your organisation has Deaf clients, I recommend the following measures:
Provide Deaf awareness training to all your staff.
Ensure that staff know how to contact Deaf participants in appropriate ways.
Ensure that forms filled in by clients allow them to tick ’sms only’ next to the phone number field.
Provide Deaf-friendly ways for your Deaf clients to contact you, such as by email or SMS, and ensure these are widely advertised on your website and other promotional materials. Of course, everyone should be able to contact you in a Deaf-friendly way, not just Deaf people.
Modify your processes and policies to ensure they are accessible and friendly to Deaf people.
Consider hiring Deaf staff, and allowing the opportunity for them to work with the Deaf clients.
Remove the requirement of anonymity when it comes to Deaf people.
Look up resources and guidelines for working with interpreters and Deaf clients in your field.
Ensure that staff know how to book Auslan interpreters and offer to do so for Deaf clients.
If your organisation has several Deaf clients (for example, Medicare, NDIA, any large government organisations, ATO, disability-focused organisations, schools with several Deaf students):
Create a Deaf department
Hire a Deaf person to lead it.
Hire a Deaf consultant for advice on how to make the entire organisational structures and processes Deaf-appropriate. Follow the advice.
Hire multiple staff from the Deaf community, as needed, to work within the Deaf department and across the organisation as a whole.
Consider setting up a web-chat specifically for Deaf clients, separately from mainstream web-chat, which allows Deaf clients to access staff from the Deaf department.
Unravelling systemic bias
If Deafness was better understood by the hearing community as a whole, we would not need to ensure that we are treated by practitioners with experience of Deafness, as everyone would possess the required knowledge. How could we change our culture so that hearing people can catch up?
Start young, at school. Children need to receive an education, at every year level, that fosters positive, inclusive and empathic attitudes towards us. This is best developed through real life examples – teachers who are Deaf and have a disability would provide strong role models and would be well placed to help children build appropriate attitudes. The way staff respond to students with a disability sends a powerful message too. Stories, films and documentries that develop empathy and insight are critical.
It is difficult for a person to understand the damaging consequence of their non-inclusive behaviour when they never see how it affects the person involved. Thus, we need stories in the media. Films, books, documentaries that demonstrate exclusion and the consequences, as well as showing viewers alternative behaviours and providing role models are critical. These need to be incorporated into mainstream media, not sideline projects. As an example, since same-sex marriage was legalised, the change in the media has been striking. There are now casual examples of LGBTIQ characters and relationships portrayed in mainstream films, TV shows and books. Before the legislation, LGBTIQ characters were mostly only included in niche material. This has helped to normalise LGBTIQ experience. If we make the same change to incorporate the stories of people who are Deaf or have a disability, the effect could be very very powerful. Note here that it is essential that people with the actual disability need to be consulted and used as actors, writers etc in the development of this media, to ensure authenticity. Nothing fosters respect like seeing people who are Deaf or have a disability in positions of authority. We need roles in parliament, we need to become teachers and doctors and nurses and school principals and lawyers and CEOs and actors (as per the previous point). Right now the barriers to these positions are insurmountable – we don’t have these positions because current attitudes prevent us from gaining them, not because we are incapable. So programmes need to be developed to help us get there.
Provide funding for films and books only if they include a character who is Deaf or has a disability, and provide the additional funding required for the sensitivity checks and the support that will enable the Deaf and disabled actors and consultants to fulfil their roles.
Encourage media that not only includes a Deaf/disabled character but that highlights real life issues experienced by that group.
Require licensing boards to develop Deaf and disability-friendly policies. Frequently Deaf people are barred from obtaining licences to teach, to practice nursing or medicine. This means it is difficult for Deaf people to achieve leadership roles and positions of authority in society – from these positions they would be able to educate and inform others, causing a ripple of change.
Create a specific well-funded programme that aims to help Deaf/disabled people gain employment in positions of authority. This may involve case managers for young people who advocate for them, guide them, and ensure they have sufficient support to perform their roles.
Welcome to level 2 of my online Auslan course for beginners. If you have made it this far, and can remember most of the vocab from level 1, then you are acing out and can probably already have some pretty good conversations with Deaf people. The signs you learn here will fill in some gaps and help bring your signing up a notch.
If you haven’t studied level 1 yet, head there to start learning Auslan and to find out answers to frequently asked questions such as which hand to use when signing.
Please remember that the signs I’m teaching you are the signs I used in Melbourne, Australia. Signs vary a lot around Australia, so people will be sure to tell you that some of the signs I’ve shown you are ‘wrong’. But my aim here is to help you communicate effectively with Deaf people, and if you use a sign from another state, or a sign they don’t usually use, chances are they’ll still understand you.
You’ll notice a dramatic change in the videos for Level 2. You asked me to sign slower (I hope I did that!) and to repeat my signs. I’ve signed each word twice, so you can watch the first time, and do it with me the second time. I hope that makes it easier for you. If they are still too quick, watch the video on YouTube and use the settings cog to change the speed to 0.25.
The other big change in the videos is how amazingly professional they look. This is thanks to Joanne Donahoe-Beckwith, who kindly volunteered to film the videos for me. She’s a pro, as you can see, and even created a studio set up with beautiful lighting to make the videos the best they can be. She also subtitled and formatted all the videos for me, saving heaps of time. Many, many thanks to Joanne for her generosity.
Now.. let’s get started. Here are some signs that will be useful in conversation:
live (e.g. to live in a house)
This post is part of my free online Auslan course. See the rest of the course here.
To learn more about what it is really like to be Deaf, details about the Deaf community and how Auslan is used by Deaf people, read my book, Future Girl.