Hiya, dear readers!
Last Friday, Deaf President Now! – a documentary on the historic 1988 civil rights movement at Gallaudet University in Washington, D.C.— was released on Apple TV+.
As someone who is deeply fascinated by disability rights movements, I was awestruck by the similarities in how Deaf individuals are perceived in the U.S. and India.
Using sign language is a stigma: ✔︎
The assumption that Deaf people are not ready to function in a hearing world: ✔︎
Deaf people internalizing that they are not capable of functioning in a hearing world: ✔︎
Hearing people wanting to ‘help’ Deaf people: ✔︎
In order to get you an insider’s perspective, I reached out to Dr. Alim Chandani, a Deaf activist, and friend and supporter of Reframing Disability, who has both studied and worked at Gallaudet University. Read his powerful essay in which he pours out his heart about the paucity of Deaf voices in India and a lack of understanding and inclusion of Deaf rights. Once again, for the benefit of Indian Sign Language users, the essay is translated into ISL by Deaf interpreter, Deepak KC. [The video doesn’t have any audio].
[Logo ID: Since Substack doesn’t permit alt-text on logos, I’ll describe it here: “On a bright purple background, two white hand illustrations form an open rectangular frame. Inside the frame, the words ‘Reframing Disability’ are written in white text, symbolising a fresh perspective on disability.]
Alim is currently working with EnAble India on the Hear A Million initiative to empower one million Deaf individuals across India. He is the founder of Freedom to Sign™, a platform that promotes Indian Sign Language and uplifts Deaf artists. Alim earned his PhD in Special Education Administration from Gallaudet University and serves on the board of Happy Hands School for the Deaf and as an advisor to Dream a Dream organization.
The opinions expressed here are his alone and do not necessarily reflect those of any organization or individual.
Each subheading is a dialogue from the documentary, which Alim has used in a unique way to explain his point. Read on, and let us know in comments what you think!
Courtesy: Apple TV+
[ID: A poster for the Apple TV+ film Deaf President Now! with a man standing with his back to the camera, raising a fist in front of the U.S. Capitol, facing a large crowd holding protest signs. Bold white text reads: “DEAF PRESIDENT NOW!” and below, “An Apple Original Film STREAMING MAY 16.”]
“I am an alien here. You all are hearing.”
by Alim Chandani
I recently watched the newly released Apple TV+ documentary Deaf President Now!, co-directed by Nyle DiMarco and Davis Guggenheim. The film documents the historic 1988 civil rights movement at Gallaudet University in Washington, D.C.—the world’s only liberal arts university for Deaf students, and my alma mater.
Deaf President Now! was a powerful reminder of what collective action can achieve. Watching it, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the line—“I am an alien here” by one of the characters, Jerry Covell. In response to an interviewer’s question, “What does Gallaudet mean to you?” Jerry said, “Think about it, I am an alien here. You all are hearing (in this room). But when I came to Gallaudet…(I felt like) it’s home. It’s my world.”
Across India, Deaf children attend schools where Indian Sign Language is actively banned, denying them not only language, but identity. They feel like aliens in a world dominated by hearing people.
“Well, one day…”
For those who may not know, Nyle DiMarco comes from a fourth-generation Deaf family and has become an icon for Deaf communities worldwide—especially after becoming the first Deaf male to win America’s Next Top Model.
Deaf President Now! marks Nyle’s powerful directorial debut, inspired by his Deaf mother, who shared the story of this pivotal civil rights movement with him. Nyle made sure the world understood its significance.
This may well be the first major documentary about a Deaf historical moment—supported by Apple TV+ and co-directed by a Deaf person. Finally, a real breakthrough in Hollywood: a platform where Deaf scriptwriters, filmmakers, and actors are invited in, not just to participate but to lead. And yes—played by actual Deaf actors.
I believe it's time for India to follow suit. We need to welcome Deaf actors, scriptwriters, ISL experts, and creators into the fold—bringing their stories to the screen authentically. Just a few weeks ago, it was announced that Bollywood actor Ibrahim Ali Khan has a “hearing and speech impairment.” While I already knew this, I’m happy that he was able to open up about it. My hope is that he will use his influence not only to represent the spectrum of Deaf identity, but also to embrace sign language and open doors for future Deaf talent in Indian cinema. He has the power to do that—and the time is now.
“We couldn’t accept a leader who didn’t understand our world.”
To give you some background about the DPN movement: Gallaudet University, established in 1864, was led by hearing presidents for 124 years—leaders who often had minimal understanding of Deaf culture or sign language. In 1988, when the university’s Board of Trustees selected a hearing candidate over two qualified Deaf finalists, the campus community knew it was time for change.
The Deaf community at Gallaudet gathered together, united by a powerful belief: “We couldn’t accept a leader who didn’t understand our world.” That sentiment became the heartbeat of the movement. Students, faculty, staff, and alumni organized a historic eight-day protest, shutting down the campus and capturing national attention. Their determination paid off—Dr. I. King Jordan was appointed as Gallaudet’s first Deaf president in 1988. Since then, the university has continued to be led by Deaf presidents, marking a turning point not only in Gallaudet’s history but in the global Deaf rights movement.
“Let’s fix your broken ears.”
This is a line far too many parents have heard—often through tears—when doctors deliver the news of their child’s deafness. It reinforces a harmful stigma from the very beginning, framing deafness as a tragedy that must be corrected. Over the years, medical technologies like cochlear implants and even experimental stem cell therapies have promised to “erase” deafness. But while a small percentage may find partial success with these tools, many still grow up feeling isolated—knowing deep down that they’re different. And often, they resist engaging with the Deaf community (as they are not willing to learn sign language), which offers shared lived experiences, deep cultural bonds, and the gift of sign language—a language that eases the constant pressure to speak perfectly, read lips flawlessly, or worry about whether their hearing aids or cochlear implants are even working.
In response to decades of marginalization, a turning point came in 2015 in India. The National Association of the Deaf (India) organized a historic protest at the India Gate in Delhi, demanding the establishment of the Indian Sign Language Research and Training Centre (ISLRTC) as an autonomous institution. The goals were clear: to recognize Deaf people as a linguistic minority with a distinct culture, to support ISL-based bilingual education, to train interpreters and Deaf educators, and to create accessible educational materials in Indian Sign Language. Their efforts were rewarded when, in September 2015, the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment granted ISLRTC its independence.
The announcement was a moment of joy and validation for the Deaf community in India. Finally, ISL could be used openly, without shame or fear. Just a few months later, another breakthrough followed: the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (RPWD) Act of 2016 was passed, mirroring aspects of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) from 1990. But in a surprising and powerful twist, the RPWD Act explicitly mentioned “sign language” and “interpreters” multiple times—something the ADA never did.
For the Deaf community in India, these milestones weren’t just legal victories—they were declarations of existence, belonging, and the beginning of a future built on pride rather than pity. But it didn’t happen that way. Poor implementation, lack of awareness, and systemic barriers meant that the promises of inclusion and accessibility often remained on paper—leaving the community still fighting for the recognition, respect, and resources they were assured.
“Do what you are told to do.”
The Indian Sign Language Research and Training Centre has yet to appoint a Deaf director—despite ongoing demands from the community. Over the years, several qualified Deaf individuals, including myself, have applied for the role. Yet, each time the recruitment process begins, it is quietly closed or revised—conveniently altering the requisites in ways that disqualify Deaf candidates altogether.
Even more disheartening is the reality for the few Deaf staff members within the unit—perhaps five or more—who are treated more like token representatives than empowered contributors. Bound by the fear of job loss, many are pressured into silence, operating in survival mode and following instructions without question. They have internalized“Do what you are told to do.”
Doesn’t this sound all too familiar? It mirrors what happened at Gallaudet University. Must we really keep repeating the same history in different parts of the world—wasting precious time—when we could instead be learning from it and leading from the front?
“Don’t worry. I’m here to help.”
Since moving to India in 2016 and becoming deeply involved in the Deaf community, I’ve seen meaningful progress—advancements in education policies, greater awareness of sign language, improved accessibility, and an increase in job opportunities for Deaf individuals. Yet, despite these gains, a troubling pattern remains: hearing individuals continue to occupy key positions of power, making decisions on behalf of the Deaf community in areas like education, media, and public policy. Often, their actions come with a well-meaning but patronizing tone—“Don’t worry, I’m here to help you”—as if we cannot speak for ourselves or define what true progress looks like.
“Hearing people think they are superior.”
The discrimination that arises from this superiority is called audism. It’s the belief—conscious or not—that hearing people know what’s best for Deaf people. Sometimes hearing people are not aware that they are being audist, but sometimes they are, as portrayed in the documentary.
Take the recent NCERT initiative, for example. NCERT or the National Council of Educational Research and Training is an organization that develops curriculum frameworks in India. While translating textbooks from Grades 1–6 into Indian Sign Language was celebrated as a major step forward, the process itself revealed deeper issues. Despite investing significant resources in hiring Deaf signers and ISL interpreters, the project was largely guided by hearing decision-makers. Many Deaf professionals who were involved recognized early on that the approach was flawed—but felt pressured to comply with directives handed down from hearing superiors. This is a clear case of audism. Due to this incident, NCERT eventually called a subcommittee of Deaf education experts, including myself, to reanalyze the situation and make formal recommendations. This could have been avoided if our voices had been included from the beginning.
We see this elsewhere too. With a growing demand for ISL interpreters at public events, conferences, and concerts, it may seem like a win for accessibility. But often, these events are not even made known to the Deaf community, or Deaf individuals are absent altogether—while interpreters still get paid and organizers check off an “inclusivity” box. This is more than a missed opportunity; it borders on cultural appropriation and tokenism—a superficial gesture of inclusion without real engagement or equity.
These patterns are subtle, but persistent. And unless we name them, we can’t change them.
“You have to sleep, eat, and breathe with Deaf people to understand the frustration and the oppression.”
I’ve seen the daily frustrations and systemic oppression — but also the fierce resilience and wisdom among us. Deaf individuals know what needs to change because we live it every single day. Let’s reframe the lens and put Deaf people at the front — not just to be heard, but to lead.
That’s exactly what Hear A Million – an initiative by EnAble India – stands for: a call to truly listen to us, the Deaf people, and to centre our voices in the decisions that shape our lives. With the aim of transforming the lives of one million Deaf individuals across India, Hear A Million empowers them to lead productive and fulfilling lives —from childhood to adulthood—with a special focus on freeing them from language deprivation by 2030.
“The time is now.”
I want to take a moment to truly applaud Nyle (waving hands!) for pouring his heart and soul into this documentary. Thank you. You’ve created something the world urgently needs — a beacon of awareness, truth, and empowerment. This film will inspire millions of Deaf children to recognize that they can stand up, that they have rights, and that they are not alone.
And as the world’s most populous country and one of the fastest-growing economies, India has a powerful opportunity. Why not lead the way — and become the face of a Deaf-inclusive model the rest of the world can learn from?
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For all those who asked for personal essays, I look forward to your thoughts on Alim’s piece, Deaf rights and inclusion, and disability rights movements in your country. Do you find the newsletter accessible? Is there any other accessibility you need?
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Until soon.
Warmly,
Priti
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