The “Deaf Tax” and Speaking for Others

The above sentence is from an email I wrote recently to the president of an unnamed linguistics society about a conference they are hosting this summer where a deaf co-presenter and I had papers accepted, but for which sign language interpreters are not being provided. This sentence is a good example of the “deaf tax,” which deaf and hard of hearing academics must pay.

What is the “deaf tax”? According to Aldaur and colleagues (2022), it is the need for deaf academics to advocate for and coordinate their own access to meetings and conferences. It is contending with the societal discrimination faced by deaf people (intersecting with other forms of discrimination and prejudice) that hinders our admission to and progress through academic institutions. It is the need to constantly educate hearing colleagues. It is doing all of this largely without support or mentorship from other deaf people in academia. The deaf tax is a burden that goes beyond the basic expectations of a graduate student or faculty member.

When the first deaf sign language linguists began their careers, the field was dominated by hearing nonsigners. Today, most people who study sign languages are not deaf. This is also true for deaf scholars in other academic disciplines, and I make no claims that any one field is more difficult to navigate than another, since a field where deaf academics are more likely to be present may also be one where audism and ableism are more ingrained. Irrespective of the discipline, and apart from there being fewer deaf than hearing people, there is a comparative shortage of deaf academics .

This blog post is inspired in part by “A Conversation Among Four Deaf Linguists” that appeared in the winter 2024 issue of Sign Language Studies. The conversation between Ben Bahan, Carol Padden, Ted Supalla, and Lars Wallin reveals the experiences of four noted deaf academics from the generation before my own. As graduate students and lab assistants during the 1970s-1980s, they entered spaces that were controlled by hearing people and constructed according to hearing people’s notions of what is important about doing research with sign languages. For example, much early sign language research focused on teaching sign language to chimpanzees (rather than to deaf children, who are still denied access to an education in and of sign language).

Much of what the four deaf linguists discuss relates to research collaborations with hearing scholars. While lacking equivalent access to graduate education, due in part to the scarcity of qualified interpreters—Ted Supalla describes himself as “self-taught”— they navigated politically charged encounters with hearing authority figures and supervisors, as well as with other students. The latter groups reaped the benefits of the deaf linguists’ contributions in terms of recognition and publications: as Supalla states, “They publish, they research, and they build a career off the assets we bring” (p. 309). Unfortunately, this is still the status quo.

Who is considered to be an expert about sign languages? Who is most qualified to speak on behalf of deaf people and deaf communities? Today, in spite of the presence and efforts of deaf academics and deaf advocacy organizations, hearing sign language linguists are most readily heeded, retweeted, and lauded as activists, advocates, and saviours of sign languages and deaf people. This is another example of the deaf tax. Fricker (2007) called this testimonial injustice, which occurs when prejudice on the audience’s part causes the words of a deaf person to be given a deflated level of credibility. As a result, the deaf scholar is prevented from becoming an expert and authority, at least on the same level as the hearing sign language linguist.

Relations of power between deaf and hearing people mean that there are different kinds of impacts and benefits, and an uneven allocation of attentional goods when deaf and hearing researchers work together. The pervasiveness of the deaf tax shows how these power relations are seen as normal and taken for granted. To change these relations involves changing the social structures and institutions that give rise to prejudice and discrimination in the first place. For example, academic societies could design conferences for both deaf and hearing scholars to participate fully.