Haben Read online

  “Let’s plan to have this keyboard at one of the tables, then.”

  “Sure. We could certainly reserve a table for you and Jody. If you would rather sit, we could reserve chairs for you.”

  I shake my head. “I’m fine standing.”

  The mic moves again. “This is Jody. So you and I will be standing at one of these tall tables. The braille computer and keyboard will be on the table. How about Maxine? Where will she be? Will she have her own business cards?”

  “So many cards! Everyone will know her name. I’ll have her resting on the floor by my feet.”

  “Aww, Maxine. She’s looking at me with those big, beautiful, brown, puppy dog eyes of hers. Okay,” Jody continues, “I have a question for Jen. This is going to be a large room full of lawyers. I don’t mean to stereotype lawyers, but…do you think people will come over to our table and type on the keyboard?”

  The mic moves to Jen. “We reached out to people who have an interest in being mentors and helping young law students. I think this will be a good group. Jody’s asking for the mic, so I’m going to pass it to her.”

  “Thanks, Jen. Haben, this question is for you. I think it’s always good to plan ahead. Suppose someone spills wine on the keyboard. Heaven forbid, but accidents happen, you know? What do you think should be our backup plan?”

  “Good point.” I lean back in my chair, thinking. “I could carry a backup keyboard in my bag.”

  “Great! And if something happens to the braille computer?”

  My nose wrinkles. “Those are expensive. I have a backup braille computer at home, but I can’t risk carrying both of them around. If a spill happens, it happens. There’s always tactile sign language, though I only know the basics. So, tactile sign language is our Plan B.”

  “Got it. I’m sure it’ll be just fine. You’re going to rock this event! Cat, want to add anything? I’m passing the mic to Cat.”

  The mic moves again. “I’m sure you’ll do great, Haben. If you think of anything else you need, just let us know. We’re here for you.”

  On the day of the workshop, Jody leads me to our reserved table right in the middle of the room. I place the braille computer and keyboard on the tall round table.

  “Is this working?” Jody types.

  Nervousness has snatched my voice away, so I just nod.

  “Yay! Okay, let’s see. I’m looking around the room. There’s a bar on the far left side of the room—a young man is there making drinks. Do you want a drink?”

  I shake my head, no.

  “Smart woman. Okay, more people are coming in. Behind you there’s a table with two women chatting. Older, maybe in their fifties. To the left of them, so that’s behind you and to the right, there are two guys and one woman. They’re your age, so maybe students. Now they’re walking over to the bar.”

  I clear my throat. “Do you think you could find people and bring them over?”

  “Of course. Who do you want me to get?”

  I shrug. “Anyone.”

  “Honey, that’s too vague. I’m here to support you, and I don’t want my opinions to color your interactions. Give me clear instructions.”

  “Okay. Find someone who looks friendly.”

  “Define friendly.”

  I laugh nervously. “Let me think…see if you can spot someone who is smiling.”

  “Okay, I’m on it. Oh, about fifteen feet to my right, your left, there’s a group of three guys. Well dressed, in their thirties, maybe? They’re laughing and smiling about something. Want me to bring them over?”

  “No!” My pulse starts racing. “I don’t want to interrupt anyone. Let’s avoid groups.”

  “Okay, so we’re looking for smiling single people. Do you want me to tell you whether or not they’re wearing a ring?”

  “Jody!” A laugh ripples from my core to my fingers and toes. My shoulders finally relax. “Yes, go ahead, tell me everything!”

  “Of course. Everyone else gets to see all these details. It’s only fair that you get to know, too. If you want me to I can describe outfits, hairstyles, jewelry, facial expressions, you name it. You tell me what’s important to you and I’ll describe it.”

  “Okay.” I flash her a delighted smile. “Do you see any people who are not in groups at the moment?”

  “I’m looking…there’s a guy standing near the drinks. Forties, maybe, but I can’t see if he’s smiling from here.”

  “Can you bring him over?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “You could say, ‘Hi, may I introduce you to Haben? She’d like to meet you.’ If he says yes, then explain to him, ‘She’s Deafblind and uses a keyboard and braille computer. Come on over and I’ll show you.’ You can gesture to the table.”

  “Got it. BRB.” Jody walks off into the big unknown.

  I’m in the confounding position of being both ultra visible and invisible. People will stare—it’s human nature. Eyes are drawn to people who stand out, like a black woman with a dog and strange computer in the middle of a Harvard Law School reception. People will judge—that’s human nature, too. A lot of people will decide to avoid me, assuming I don’t have anything of value to contribute. I can’t control their actions, but I can control the messages I send.

  My fingers find the keyboard on my computer. “You’re confident,” I type to myself. My fingers glide over the words, reading the message. Feel it. Think it. Believe it.

  Two people approach the table. “It’s Jody. Simon came over to say hello. He doesn’t want to type, so I’m going to help him.”

  I extend my hand out to Simon. “It’s nice to meet you, Simon. My name is Haben.”

  He shakes my hand, then holds it. I’m stuck reading with just one hand as he talks and Jody types for him. “Tell her it’s a pleasure to meet her. What kind of dog is that? That’s a gorgeous dog. Does the dog go to class with her? It must be smart. Well it was very nice meeting you both. She’s very inspiring.”

  I cringe inwardly. People with disabilities get called inspiring so often, usually for the most insignificant things, that the word now feels like a euphemism for pity. Sometimes when a nondisabled person uses the word to describe a person with a disability, it’s a sign that they’re feeling overwhelmed or uncomfortable.

  “This is probably a bit confusing.” I slide my hand out of his grasp and gesture at the computer. “When you speak, Jody is typing what you’re saying. What she’s typing is then sent through Bluetooth to this braille computer. I’m then reading your words in braille. There’s a slight delay between when you speak and when your words appear in braille. It might make more sense if you try typing. Would you like to try?”

  “It’s okay. I’m enjoying watching you two. This is my card. It was very inspiring meeting her. Tell her she’s beautiful. You ladies take care.” He walks away.

  “It’s just Jody now. I’m putting his card to the right of your computer. What did you think of that?”

  “Hmm.” Chin resting on my hand, I pretend to think. “That was…inspiring.”

  “Right?”

  I nod, grinning. Coming into this event I was worried that something like this would happen. When a feared scenario actually occurs, its power weakens.

  “Is there anything you want me to do differently next time?” Jody asks.

  I shake my head. “Some people just won’t take me seriously. There are people out there who will treat me with respect, though. Let’s keep searching.”

  “I see a woman walking around. Thirties, holding a drink in one hand. Kind of smiling.”

  I nod. “Let’s meet her.”

  “Okay, BRB.” Jody walks away.

  My knees balance my weight as I kneel beside Maxine. Stretched out on the floor by my feet, she exudes a Zen-like calm in this room full of fancy lawyers. I run my hands through her fur, hoping some of her tranquility transfers over to me.

  Jody returns. “Haben, this is Sarah. She’s going to type. I’m stepping back now. Here’s Sar
ah.”

  I extend a hand to Sarah. “Nice to meet you, Sarah.” She shakes my hand, then releases it.

  “Hello,” she types.

  I give her an encouraging smile. “How’s your evening going?”

  “Good. Do I need to hit enter?”

  I shake my head. “No need to hit enter. Everything you type comes through instantly. The letters come up in braille as soon as you press them.”

  “Wow! Can I feel it?”

  I turn the device around so that the braille display faces her. She touches the line of braille. When she’s done, I turn it back around to face me.

  “That is so cool. Is this technology new?”

  “This particular device came out this year, but there have been devices like this since the eighties. Do you work in tech?”

  “Kind of. So, as you probably guessed, I’m a lawyer. I graduated from NYU Law five years ago.”

  “Awesome! What kind of law do you practice?”

  “We do business law. My firm has an office in downtown Boston, and we’ll be taking applications for summer associates soon. Are you interested?”

  I take a moment to choose my words carefully. “That sounds like a great opportunity. I ultimately want to become a disability rights lawyer. Does anyone at your office handle civil rights cases?”

  “I’ve done a few cases pro bono. I know someone else has, too. I want to give you my card so we can stay in touch. Do I give it to you or your interpreter?”

  “Give it to me, please.” A card appears in my hand. “Thanks. I really enjoyed meeting you, Sarah. I hope you have a great evening.”

  “You, too. Bye!” She picks up her drink and walks away.

  “It’s Jody. There’s a student waiting to talk to you. Sweet smile. He says he knows you. Here he is.”

  “Hi, what’s your name?” I ask.

  “Hey, it’s Liqin.”

  “Liqin! Hi! How’s the reception going for you?” I’m smiling, thrilled to find a friend.

  “I’ve met several interesting people, got some new business cards.” His words zip by, double the speed of the last typist. “I’d say it’s going pretty well. How about you?”

  “I just had a nice conversation with a lawyer named Sarah. She was telling me about her firm’s summer program.”

  “Awesome! I just wanted to say hi. There are only a few of us from our class at this event. BTW, the other day I was at the cafeteria and through the window I saw you playing ball with Maxine. It looked fun.”

  “Yeah, she loves to play! You can play with her sometime, too.”

  “Thanks, that would be great. I’ll email you. Okay, I’m going to go meet more people. See you around.”

  “Bye!”

  Jody continues to facilitate conversations throughout the evening. She types visual and audio descriptions, and then lets me make the decisions. I meet many people, both current law students and lawyers.

  The experience energizes me, and I continue expanding my social circle. Classmates type on the keyboard before and after class; new acquaintances in coffee shops introduce themselves over the keys; and for the first time in my life, dance partners have an easy way to tell me their names. On rare occasions people walk away, or make dismissive comments. I tell Maxine to steer around them. Most people are thoughtful, inquisitive, and willing to try having conversations in a new way. The familiarity of the keyboard provides an opening that allows me to help people feel comfortable despite our differences. Most people don’t know braille, sign language, or disability culture, but a significant number of people know how to type. Millennials in particular tend to have plenty of experience conversing through keyboards. In that way, the keyboard operates like a life raft people can cling to in a vast sea of unknowns.

  Exploring my communication options only takes up a tiny fraction of my time, though. Most of my hours are spent reading textbooks, cases, and notes on those cases. The school sends me all my materials as digital files that I can access on my computer. Accessible documents, applications, and websites also allow me to conduct legal research and write papers. More tech developers are designing with access in mind, and that increases opportunities for students with disabilities. As a student in 2010, I have access to more study tools than many past students with disabilities. Disability rights advocates have been working to remove barriers for years, and their work has paved the way for students like me.

  Harvard instructors assign an extraordinary amount of homework. It’s daunting, but the work ethic I began to develop in middle school and honed throughout college serves me especially well now. I keep track of assignments, prioritize tasks, and seek advice from librarians, instructors, and experienced students. Both the Black Law Students and the Women Law Students associations save me during finals, offering mentors and study tips. The final exams are grueling. Exhausting. Brutal. The law school provides me the exams in braille, and a laptop with a screenreader and braille display for me to type and print out my answers. My exams, like all students’ exams, will be graded anonymously.

  After my last exam, an email rises out of my inbox to torment me with an impossible question: would I like to celebrate the end of finals with my classmates at a bar? Yes, I would. No, I would not. Yes. No. Bars have sticky tables and stickier floors. Bars are loud environments where I won’t hear anyone, and no one will hear me.

  The time has come for me to learn how to handle bars. Lawyers have gathered in bars since time immemorial. I mean, the final test to become a lawyer is called a bar exam.

  Maxine and I walk from our off-campus apartment to the law school, cross through the law school, navigate our way across Harvard Yard, traverse Harvard Square, and enter the legendary John Harvard’s Brewery & Ale House. The smells of beer and fried food greet us at the door. “Forward.” We descend the stairs. “Good girl!” She pauses at the bottom of the stairs as if to say, “Now what?”

  Through the dim light I see a crowd of people all around us. To the front, to the left, to the right. The voices merge into one large cacophony of chaos.

  A person approaches and touches my arm. She speaks, and her words fade into the noise.

  “Hi!” I smile. “It’s hard for me to hear. I want to set up my keyboard. Would you show me to a counter or table I can use?”

  She leads me through the crowd of people to the tall wood surface of the bar.

  “Thank you!” I pull the keyboard and braille display out of my bag, turn them on, and pass the keyboard to her.

  “Hey, it’s Janet. How are you?”

  “Good! I’m relieved finals are over.”

  “Me, too. We made it! We survived!”

  “They say everything will be easier now that we’ve finished our first semester.” I feel giddy sitting here at a bar, sharing an ordinary conversation about school. Noisy settings always left me feeling lost and isolated in the past. I avoided them when I could—I skipped my high school’s prom and my college graduation ceremony. Things are going to be different now that I know there are people who will respect me and my keyboard.

  “Do you want anything to drink?” Janet asks.

  I nod. “Lemonade.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell the bartender. Liqin wants to say hi.” Janet talks with the bartender, then disappears into the crowd.

  A tall guy takes the keyboard. “Hey, it’s Liqin. How did your finals go?”

  “They were hard,” I say with a shrug. “But I gave it my best. How about you?”

  “That contracts exam was intense. I’m glad it’s all over. I’m ready to go home for the holidays. Get away from HLS for a while. Your drink is here, just to your right.”

  My right hand reaches out and finds the drink. I take a sip.

  “Is that lemonade?” he asks.

  “Yes.” I raise my eyebrows, wondering if he is going to tease me about my drink choices.

  “No alcohol? Don’t you want to celebrate?”

  I smile. “I’m already Deafblind. I don’t want to be Deaf, blind, an
d drunk.”

  “Hahahahahaha! That’s funny. Well, it’s your night to celebrate, too. Do you want anything else? Food?”

  I shake my head. “Maybe you could describe the bar?”

  “Sure! The bar is kind of L-shaped. We’re halfway along the longer side of the L. People are sitting and standing all along this counter. They all look young. Probably all students celebrating the end of finals. I feel like I’m writing a scene in a book.”

  “Yes! Pretend you’re a novelist, or a screenwriter.”

  “Hahaha. Let’s see, what else…the entrance is on the left, that large wooden staircase you came down with Maxine. FYI, everyone was admiring her when you two walked in.”

  “Don’t tell her,” I warn darkly. “Her ego is already too big.”

  “Haha, she’s perfect. Okay, so back to the descriptions: if you come down the stairs and turn right, you’re in the restaurant, a large area with tables and booths. It’s packed. Oh, Lisa just told me she’s waiting to talk to you. I’ll pass the keyboard to her. There are about twenty people from our section hanging out just behind you, so you can ask any one of us if you need anything. Are you good?”

  “More than good!” I gesture for him to pass the keyboard.

  “Awesome. Okay, here’s Lisa.”

  The keyboard and braille display make hanging out at a bar easier than I expected. Throughout the evening, classmates come to appreciate how typing gives their vocal cords a break from shouting in the loud bar. My keyboard is like curb cuts on sidewalks in that nondisabled people find the accommodation useful, too. Disability solutions benefit the entire community.

  A tall person moves in front of the keyboard. “Hey its me.”

  “Me who?” I ask.

  “Oh rifgt sirry its Liqin I wsbt asj ig uiy meef aborjet dtomk.”

  My fingers try to decipher the message. “What?”

  Gibberish.

  If eyes can twinkle, mine are twinkling. “This is a tough question, a really hard question. How many drinks have you had?”

  Gibberish.

  “That’s what I thought.” I stifle a laugh.

  A new person joins us at the bar. “Hey, it’s Nick. What’s up?”