Why "Ellis Island"?

Why do we call this blog "Ellis Island"?

Well, there's the first and obvious reason: our son's name is Ellis. Incidently, though, he's actually named in honor of the New Orleans jazz musician Ellis Marsalis. We were living in New Orleans when I got pregnant, and he would've been born there, if we hadn't moved two weeks prior. Memorializing our New Orleans connection was all the more special after Hurricane Katrina hit the city two months later. And we love jazz.

There is also the reference to Ellis Island, the small island off the coast of New Jersey that was the portal for immigration into this country during the late 18th/early 19th century. The thousands of immigrants that flooded into our country during that time, "yearning to breathe free," began their American experience on Ellis Island, where they were processed and admitted into the country. It was the "golden door" to a new life.

In a sense, when he was born deaf our little boy became our Ellis Island, the gateway into a new life and culture. We are learning a new language, and we are working to settle into this new land, defined not by geography but by the people who share deafness as a point of community and culture. When Ellis was born deaf, he was born different from the rest of our hearing family. Sure, with the use of his cochlear implant he has enough access to sound to do quite well in terms of the mechanics of hearing and the acquisition of speech, but that is not the most natural way he can learn language, which is with his eyes and hands. The CI becomes Ellis's door to our hearing culture, a tool to live with greater ease in a foreign land. So yes, this is a cross cultural experience for Ellis, too.

Language is the backbone of culture. It is the means by which people interact, become friends, create rituals, make homes, and share life. As Ellis experiences the camaraderie of his Deaf fellows, our whole family joins him. Eventually he will become an adult, and our presence in his life will decrease, but these worlds of his will not be alienated from each other. As his parents, we are immigrants into the deaf world, too, even if we are always hearing foreigners.

The symbolism of Ellis Island is that of a door, a gateway (of "portality"?). But Ellis Island symbolism can be extended to another attribute, plurality. The thousands of people that came here were from all over the world, bringing with them their own languages and cultures. As they passed through Ellis Island they had to decide what to do with their old world identities. Some clung to the familiar, building neighborhoods that allowed them to forget as much as possible that they were in a foreign land. Others strove forth, embracing their new American selves. They all struggled and worked to learn how they were going to fit in this new country, how they were going to bring their different worlds into harmony.

In the deaf world, there is also plurality. There's not one way to be deaf. As people negotiate their differences, from skills in ASL to the appropriateness of having a CI, we are there in the middle of it all working out what our family looks like in the new world. We are awkward with the language, yet overeager to use it. Our sons will probably move more freely between the worlds than we crotchety old folks, the first generation immigrants. It is a journey that we embrace with joy and love, interest and curiosity.

"Ellis Island" is about immigration (pluralities and dualities). It's about jazz (improvisation). It's about sticking things together that are different and don't always fit with one another to create new and interesting things. It's about building (communication, cultural) bridges.