I’m Lila, 22, and hard of hearing. My best friend Riley is deaf, and we’ve been signing together since high school. One afternoon at our favorite café, we were chatting in sign language when a woman at a nearby table started glaring. Her young son had been curiously watching us, even trying to copy our signs. But instead of encouraging him, she scolded him and stormed over to confront us. “Could you stop flapping your hands?” she demanded. “It’s distracting.”
I calmly explained that we were using sign language—a valid, respectful way of communicating. But she wasn’t having it. “Do it somewhere more private,” she snapped. Her son tugged her sleeve and said quietly, “They weren’t doing anything wrong,” but she ignored him.