I’m Lila, 22, hard of hearing. My best friend Riley is deaf. We were signing and laughing at a café when a woman approached, furious. “Could you stop that… gesturing?” she said, calling our sign language “distracting” and “inappropriate.” Her young son had been mimicking our signs — out of curiosity and joy — and she scolded him, insisting it was rude. Riley froze. I stayed calm. “This is how we communicate,” I said. “It’s a language. Used by millions.”
She wasn’t having it. “This is what’s wrong with society,” she muttered. But then James, a waiter, stepped in. “The only disturbance is coming from you,” he said firmly. “We welcome everyone here. We don’t tolerate discrimination.”
