Journal articles on the topic 'Nie blankes'

In hierdie Studie is die veranderinge en stabiliteit in die evaluatiewe stereotipes ondersoek wat volwasse blanke Afrikaanssprekendes ( N = 5 362), blanke Engelssprekendes ( N = 4 468) en Kaaplandse kleurlinge ( N = 5 759) van 1973 tot 1980/84 ten opsigte van die volgende groepe gehuldig het: hul eie groepe, die ander twee groepe, swartes en Indiërs en in die geval van die blanke ondersoekgroepe ook ten opsigte van Jode en Portugese. Die stereotipes is deur middel van sewepunt bipolêre adjektiewe beoordelingskale gemeet. Op grond van die bevindings in die ondersoek, naamlik dat daar geen betekenisvolle veranderinge voorgekom het nie in die stereotipes van blanke Afrikaanssprekendes ten opsigte van hul eie groep, blanke Engelssprekendes, Portugese en kleurlinge of in die stereotipes van blanke Engelssprekendes ten opsigte van blanke Afrikaanssprekendes, Jode, Portugese, Indiërs en kleurlinge of in die stereotipes van kleurlinge ten opsigte van blanke Afrikaanssprekendes en Indiërs, is die gevolgtrekking gemaak dat stabiliteit, eerder as veranderinge, die stereotipes van die drie ondersoekgroepe van 1973 tot 1980/84 gekenmerk het. Veranderinge wat wel voorgekom het, kan waarskynlik aan die wisselwerking tussen 'n verskeidenheid faktore toegeskryf word, waaronder die versteuring in die geopolitieke balans in Suider-Afrika asook ander konfliksituasies en veranderinge wat gedurende die sewentigerjare in Suid-Afrika plaasgevind het.

Die toenemende huweliksverbrokkeling en egskeiding onder blanke Suid-Afrikaners wek reeds die afgelope paar dekades kommer by persone in die hulpverleningsprofessies. Die doel van hierdie ondersoek was om 'n Afrikaanse huweliksvoorbereidingsprogram, wat teoreties op die algemene sisteemteorie gebaseer is en waarbinne bepaalde gedragsterapeutiese en kliëntgesentreerde konsepte geïntegreer is, binne psigo-oplei-dingskonteks toe te pas ten einde die kort- en langtermyn effekte daarvan te bepaal. Die Solomon-viergroep navorsingsontwerp is in die ondersoek gebruik en 40 voornemende egpare het daaraan deelgeneem. Objek-tiewe beoordelingskale sowel as selfrapporteringsvraelyste is as meetinstrumente aangewend. Uit die eksperimentele evaluering van die huweliksvoorbereidingsprogram blyk dit dat die verloofde pare wat onderskeidelik aan die program deelgeneem het en nie deelgeneem het nie, op die korttermyn sowel as die langtermyn beduidend van mekaar verskil het. Die program het dus beter huweliksaanpassing en vaardighede tot gevolg gehad. Hierdie verskil geld vir al die veranderlikes wat geëvalueer is, te wete verhoudingsaanpassing, empatiese begrip, kommunikasievaardighede, positiewe versterking, konflikhanteringsvaardighede en intimiteit. Verder is bevind dat die effekte van die huweliksvoorbereidingsprogram oor die langtermyn konstant gebly het.

IntroductionThe National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) may recommend temporary funding through managed access agreements (MAAs) for oncology drugs (via the Cancer Drugs Fund [CDF]) and highly specialized therapies for rare diseases. MAAs allow for the collection of evidence to address key areas of clinical uncertainty, while providing access of medicines to patients, prior to re-appraisal by NICE. Observational data and other real-world evidence (RWE) are crucial requirements for all MAAs and herein we examine the extent these data are being used to inform HTA decisions at re-appraisal.MethodsExisting MAAs entered into between the National Health Service (NHS) England and manufacturers as of 30 October 2018 were identified; for drug:indication pairings with NICE re-appraisals, all information was reviewed and the key data extracted.ResultsOf the twenty-two MAAs identified, only two drug:indication pairings have been subsequently re-appraised by NICE: BV(brentuximab vedotin):non-Hodgkin lymphoma (’recommended’) and pembrolizumab:relapsed or refractory classical Hodgkin lymphoma (’recommended’). Data from a retrospective questionnaire regarding the proportion of patients that received curative stem cell transplant (SCT) post-BV (from patients who received BV in the old CDF) were accepted to provide sufficient evidence on the post-BV SCT rate by NICE. Meanwhile, for pembrolizumab, long-term survival benefit was the key clinical uncertainty; the primary data collection source was updated phase III randomized controlled trial data. At re-appraisal no reference was made to the observational data component; more mature survival data reduced uncertainty over survival benefits and were sufficient to support a positive NICE recommendation.ConclusionsOf the twenty-two MAAs to date, only two drugs have been re-appraised thus far, with both receiving positive NICE recommendations. Observational data were successfully used to address key clinical uncertainties regarding subsequent real-world treatment patterns for BV, but observational data were not referred to in the NICE recommendation for pembrolizumab. The re-appraisal of more drugs in the future will clarify the importance being placed on observational data collection requested by NICE for existing MAAs.

Los traumatismos dentales son eventos que suceden frecuentemente. Los datos estadísticos revelan cifrasconsiderables en cuanto a la incidencia y prevalencia de estos accidentes. La intrusión dental es de las más comunesdurante la infancia y su tratamiento depende de la severidad del caso. Junto con los traumatismos dentalesse presentan lesiones en tejidos blandos, las cuales deben ser tratadas del modo más conservador posible a fi nde reducir las posibles secuelas. Presentación del caso: En el reporte se describe a una paciente femenina de 2años 8 meses de edad que acude al área de urgencias del Hospital del Niño DIF Hidalgo por presentar “caída delas escaleras”. Acude en primera instancia a otro hospital de donde fue remitida 24 horas después. A la exploraciónclínica bucal se observa intrusión de dientes 51 y 61. Clínica y radiográfi camente apreciamos fractura detabla alveolar vestibular. Presenta lesión lacerante en encía a nivel de dichos órganos y en el labio inferior. Serealiza lavado de la herida, se extraen los dientes afectados y se suturan las heridas. Se realizó seguimiento a lapaciente durante 3 meses observando correcta cicatrización de las heridas. Conclusiones: La paciente presentauna evolución correcta. El manejo oportuno inmediato en este tipo de lesiones es esencial a fi n de disminuir lasposibles secuelas.

In South Africa the practice of toppling statues is as old as the practice of erecting them. The most recent episode in this history began in 2015 with the Rhodes Must Fall campaign at the University of Cape Town, from where it rapidly spread to sites throughout South Africa. Confronted with the fact that 97% of South Africa’s 3500 declared heritage sites related to white values and experiences at the end of the apartheid era and that there has been little progress towards crafting a more representative heritage landscape, one cannot dispute the Rhodes Must Fall assertion that South African statues anachronistically honour the leading figures of South Africa’s colonial and apartheid past. Observing that public debate around the statues was rapidly polarised into two camps, those who would defend the statues and those who would destroy them, this paper argues that neither option sufficiently addresses the multiple meanings of statues. By examining the changing public-history discourses of the 20th century we propose a third approach grounded in post humanist arguments about the limitation of critique and the promise of care as an ethical, affective and practical pursuit. We argue that this post humanist approach to the question of what to do with statues in South Africa is capable of transforming them from fetishised objects of offence or of heritage into points around which new publics can gather and through which the historical ontology of contemporary power dynamics can be accessed, interrogated and acted upon in order to build new forms of citizenship. In Suid-Afrika is die praktyk van standbeelde omgooi net so oud soos die praktyk om hulle op te rig. Die mees onlangse episode in hierdie geskiedenis het in 2015 in Kaapstad begin met die Rhodes Must Fall veldtog by die Universiteit van Kaapstad en daarvandaan het dit vining versprei na plekke dwarsoor Suid-Afrika. Gesien in die lig van feit dat teen die einde van die apartheidera 97% van Suid-Afrika se 3500 erfenisplekke verwant was aan blanke waardes en ervaringe en dat daar min vordering was met die daarstelling van ‘n meer verteenwoordigende erfenislandskap, kan mens nie wegkom van Rhodes Must Fall stelling dat Suid-Afrikaanse beelde ‘n anachronistiese verering is van die leidende figure van Suid-Afrika se koloniale en apartheidsverlede. Gegewe dat die openbare debat vining gepolariseer geraak het in twee kampe, naamlik diegene wat die beelde woul beskerm en diegene wat hulle wou vernietig, is die argument wat aangevoer word in hierdie artikel dat nie een van die opsies voldoende handel met die veelvuldige betekenisse van beelde nie. Deur ‘n ondersoek te doen na die veranderende diskoerse oor openbare geskiedenis in die 20ste eeu stel ons ‘n derde benadering voor, wat ingebed is in post-humanistiese argumente oor die beperkinge van kritiek en die moontlikhede van sorg as ‘n etiese, affektiewe en praktiese benadering. Ons argumenteer naamlik dat die post-humanistiese benadering tot wat mens moet doen met beelde in Suid-Afrika is om hulle te omvorm van fetisjistiese voorwerpe wat aanstoot gee of van erfenisvoorwerpe tot plekke waar nuwe publieke kan vergader en waardeur die historiese ontologie van kontemporêre magsdinamiek benader, ondersoek en oor gehandel kan word om nuwe vorme van burgerskap te bou.

The Aromanian Farsheroti Dialect – Balkan PerspectiveThe focus of our interest is the analysis of the Aromanian Farsheroti speech from the Ohrid-Struga region, which has never been a subject of a separate linguistic analysis. This speech is described in comparison to the Macedonian Ohrid-Struga dialects and special emphasis is given to their mutual interferences within the Balkan context. Using such approach, the parallel structures and the differences between these speeches are more clearly pointed out thus presenting a wider picture of the processes typical of the Balkan linguistic community. The efforts for drawing closer to a joint model that enables easier and straightforward communication were the most powerful with the linguistic features and categories that were in a way the most distinct and completely different. Both Aromanian Farsheroti and Macedonian Ohrid speeches adjusted to each other by using all available linguistic means not only from their own languages. For instance, the Aromanian Farsheroti speech has eliminated the case inflections for genitive / dative thus approaching closer to the analytical declination which is the case with the Macedonian language. Even for the complex past tenses from a present point of view can be argued that they outline an almost joint Albanian-Aromanian-Macedonian model. The Aromanian Farsheroti dialect, using its own and the borrowed Albanian linguistic characteristics, has created such model, whereas the Macedonian Ohrid speech, on the other hand, by adopting the constructions with imam (have) and sum (be), has filled the blanks in its own verbal tense system. The constructions showing admirative are another typical feature that the Aromanian has borrowed from the Albanian and has incorporated into the Macedonian system. All these instances show that the mutual interference was very strong and emerged deeply in the structure of the two systems. This is another proof of the great need for mutual conception of the world which is a result of the need for easier mutual communication. Dialekt Arumunów Farszerotów – Perspektywa bałkańska Przedmiotem niniejszej analizy jest dialekt Arumunów Farszerotów z rejonu Ochrydy i Strugi (Republika Macedonia), który dotychczas nie był przedmiotem oddzielnej analizy lingwistycznej. Dialekt Farszerotów opisywany jest w konfrontacji z macedońskimi dialektami ochrydzko-strużkimi, przy czym szczególną uwagę zwraca się na wzajemne interferencje na tle bałkańskim. W ten sposób wyraźniej widoczne stają się podobieństwa i różnice pomiędzy tymi dwoma dialektami dzięki czemu zyskujemy szerszy obraz procesów typowych dla bałkańskiej ligi językowej. Najsilniejsze tendencje zmierzające do stworzenia wspólnego modelu umożliwiającego łatwiejszą i stałą komunikację odnotowano w obrębie tych cech i kategorii językowych, które były najbardziej oddalone od siebie albo całkowicie różne. I arumuński, i ochrydzki macedoński upodobniały się do siebie, wykorzystując wszystkie środki językowe nie tylko z zaplecza jakim był własny język. I tak np. ochrydzki arumuński wyeliminował końcówki genetivu i dativu i w ten sposób bardzo zbliżył się do analitycznej deklinacji typowej dla języka macedońskiego. Podobnie możemy mówić o wspólnym albańsko-arumuńsko-macedońskim modelu w odniesieniu do czasów przeszłych złożonych. Arumuński dialekt Farszerotów stworzył taki model, wykorzystując własne i zapożyczone z albańskiego środki językowe. Z drugiej zaś strony ochrydzki macedoński, przejmując konstrukcje z imam i sum, wypełnił brakujące miejsca we własnym systemie czasów. Jako typowy przykład można podać konstrukcje admiratywne, które arumuński przejął od albańskiego, a jednocześnie za jego pośrednictwem konstrukcje te zostały wprowadzone do systemu języka macedońskiego. Wszystko to uświadamia nam, że interferencja w ramach mikrosystemów była bardzo silna i głęboko weszła w ich strukturę. W ten sposób ujawnia się doniosłość jednakowego rozumienia świata, wynikające z potrzeby łatwiejszej komunikacji wzajemnej.

The influence of sex and ethnicity on work values: The influence of sex and ethnicity on work values was investigated independently and interactionally. The Work Value Survey, developed by Wollacket al., was used as measuring instrument. A stepwise discriminant analysis was applied to test whether ethnicity and sex influence work values. The white subgroup differs from other groups regarding attitude towards income. Furthermore the White group differs from the black and astatic population regarding pride in work. Sex does not appear to influence work values. On the whole, differences found between groups were small. The conclusion is drawn that groups meeting in the work place show corresponding work values. Opsomming Die invloed van die veranderlikes geslag en etnisiteit op werkwaardes is onafhanklik en interaksioneel ondersoek. Die Work Value Survey wat deurWollack et. al. ontwikkel is, is as meetinstrument gebruik. Daar is deur middel van stapgewyse diskriminantontleding getoets of etnisiteit en geslag 'n invloed op werkwaardes uitoefen. Die Blanke subgroep verskil van ander groepe ten opsigte van houding teenoor verdienste. Verder verskil die Blankes ook van die Swart- en Asierbevolking ten opsigte van werktrots. Geslag oefen skynbaar nie 'n invloed uit op werkwaardes nie. Oor die algemeen is daar slegs geringe verskille tussen groepe en die afleiding word gemaak dat groepe wat in die werkpiek ontmoet, ooreenstemmende werkwaardes openbaar.

An empirical study was undertaken in a South African organization in which white attitudes to black advancement were analyzed in terms of eight demographic variables - home language, sex, age, length of service, education, job grade, department, and geographical location. The scale employed was found to have acceptable psychometric properties in terms of internal consistency and factor structure. Education, language, job grade, department and location showed significant statistical relationships with attitudes to black advancement. No differences were found for sex, age or length of service. These variables accounted for 22 of the variance. The majority of the variance in attitude to black advancement is still unexplained. Opsomming 'n Empiriese studie is in 'n Suid-Afrikaanse organisasie onderneem waarin die houdings van blankes tot swart ontwikkeling ondersoek is in terme van agt demografiese veranderlikes - huistaal, geslag, ouderdom, diensjare, opvoedingspeil, posvlak, afdeling, en geograflese ligging. Die meetinstrument het aanvaarbare psigometriese eienskappe vertoon in terme van beide betroubaarheid en faktorsamestelling. Opvoedkundige peil, huistaal, posvlak, afdeling en ligging het beduidende verbande met houding teenoor swart ontwikkeling getoon. Geen verskille is ten opsigte van geslag, ouderdom en diensjare gevind nie. Hierdie veranderlikes het 22 van die variansie verklaar. Die grootste gedeelte van die variansie wat blankes se houding teenoor swart ontwikkeling bepaal, bly nog onverklaar.

The work motivation of black and white artisans in a chemical industry. The objective of this study was to determine the extent to which white and black artisans in a chemical industry consider their working environment satisfactory and thus motivating. The results showed no suggestions of an optimally motivating work environment. Black artisans showed a more balanced preference pertaining to extrinsic/intrinsic motivating factors. In contrast, white artisans placed more emphasis on extrinsic motivating factors. The two groups, however, did not differ substantially in their motivational patterns.Opsomming Die doel met hierdie ondersoek was om met behulp van Lawler en Porter se verwagtingsmodel, vas te stel in watter mate blanke en swart vakmanne, in 'n chemiese nywerheid, hul werksomgewing as toereikend motiverend van aard beskou. Die resultate dui aan dat daar vir beide groepe nie sprake is van 'n optimaal motiverende werksomgewing nie. Terwyl blanke vakmanne ekstrinsieke faktore meer beklemtoon het, het swart vakmanne beter gebalanseerde voorkeure met betrekking tot ekstrinsieke/intrinsieke faktore getoon. Die motiveringspatrone van die twee groepe het egter nie wesenlik van mekaar verskil nie.

Die doel van hierdie studie is om vas te stel wat die aard en voorkoms van middeloorprobleme by graad 1 en 2 Blanke kinders is. Siftingsoudiometrie is op 50 leerlinge (100 ore), in 'n hoë, en 50 leerlinge (100 ore) in 'n lae sosio-ekonomiese omgewing uitgevoer. Alle leerlinge wat 'n eerste oudiometriese siftingsprosedure gefaal het, is aan 'n tweede siftingsprosedure onderwerp. Uit die resultate blyk dit dat 19,5% uitgeval het op die oudiologiese siftingstoetse. 'n Otologiese ondersoek het 8,5% van hierdie kinders geidentifiseer as kinders met middeloorprobleme. Daar was nie statisties beduidende verskille tussen die verskillende sosio-ekonomiese groepe nie.

Popular criticism is that psychometric instruments, based largely on middle-class White values, knowledge and culture are biased and less valid for other population groups. It is therefore important that the testing of persons with highly dissimilar backgrounds receive greater attention. In this study the LCI of Schepers was applied to Black and White tertiary students to determine the construct validity of the instrument for different cultural groups. It was found that there is evidence of differences in the construct validity of the LCI for the Black (n=376) and White (n=374) groups. The item discrimination values, scale reliabilities and factor structures revealed that the three hypothesised constructs, namely external locus of control, internal locus of control and autonomy underlying the LCI, were confirmed for the White group but not for the Black group. Opsomming Die algemene kritiek teen psigometriese instrumente wat grootliks op Blanke waardes, kennis en kultuur gebaseer is, is dat die instrumente sydig en minder geldig vir ander populasiegroepe mag wees. Dit is dus belangrik dat sydigheids- en geldigheidsaspekte veral aandag geniet by die toetsing van persone uit verskillende kultuurgroepe. In hierdie studie is die LVB van Schepers op Swart en Blanke tersiêre studente toegepas om die konstrukgeldigheid van die instrument vir verskillende kultuurgroepe te bepaal. Die resultate dui daarop dat die konstrukgeldigheid van die LVB vir die Swart (n=376) en Blanke (n=374) groepe verskil. Die item-diskriminasiewaardes, skaalbetroubaarhede en faktorstrukture dui daarop dat die drie konstrukte waaruit die LVB bestaan, naamlik ‘n eksterne lokus van kontrole, ‘n interne lokus van kontrole en outonomie vir die Blanke groep bevestig is, maar nie vir die Swart groep nie.

The 19 Field Interest Inventory (19FII) has been used for the assessment of the interests of white South Africans for more than twenty years. This inventory gives a detailed but uneconomical description of a person's interests in terms of 19 fields. A further shortcoming is that the inventory is not based on any specific theory. Holland offers a theoretically sound and more economical description of interests in terms of six fields. A factor analysis of the 19 fields of the 19FII was undertaken to determine to what extent the factors would correspond with Holland's fields. Three Holland fields received strong support, whilst the remaining three received tentative support. The discrepancies may be ascribed to the restricted nature of the sample, namely prospective white male university students. Opsomming Die 19 Veld-belangstellingsvraelys (19VBV) word al vir langer as twintig jaar gebruik vir die taksering van blanke Suid-Afrikaners se beroepsbelangstellings. Hierdie vraelys bied 'n gedetailleerde, maar onekonomiese beskrywing van 'n persoon se belangstellings in terme van 19 velde. Hierdie vraelys is ook nie op enige onderliggende teoretiese rasionaal gebaseer nie. Hierteenoor bied Holland 'n teoreties verantwoorde en meer ekonomiese beskrywing van belangstellings in terme van ses velde. 'n Faktorontleding is op 'n datastel wat aan die hand van die 19VBV verkry is uitgevoer om te sien tot watter mate die faktore sal ooreenstem met Holland se velde. Sterk bevestiging vir drie van Holland se velde is gevind/ terwyl die ander drie velde tentatiewe ondersteuning verkry het. Die afwykings kan moontlik aan die geselekteerde aard van die steekproef, naamlik voornemende blanke manlike universiteitstudente, toegeskryf word.

The aim of the study was to determine the construct equivalence of the PIB/SpEEx Motivation Index for entry-level job applicants from diverse cultural backgrounds in the public safety and security sector in South Africa. The use of psychometric instruments in South Africa has been criticized because it is said that they are largely based on the values and knowledge of White minority groups and are construct bias and are less valid for other cultural groups. In this study a Black, Asian and White group were included to determine the intercultural equivalence of the internal locus of control and external locus of control constructs underlying the PIB/SpEEx Motivation Index. The results indicate that the constructs of the PIB/SpEEx Motivation Index are not biased and are therefore equivalent for the groups included in the study. Opsomming Die doel van die studie was om die konstrukgelykwaardigheid van die PIB/SpEEx Motiveringsindeks vir kultureel diverse groepe toetree-applikante in die openbare veiligheidsektor te bepaal. Die algemeenste kritiek teen die gebruik van psigometriese meetinstrumente in Suid-Afrika is dat dit gebaseer is op Blanke waardes en kennis en dat dit gevolglik konstruksydig en minder geldig is vir ander kultuurgroepe. In hierdie studie is Swart, Asiër en Blanke groepe gebruik in die bepaling van die interkulturele gelykwaardigheid van die interne en die eksterne lokus van beheer konstrukte onderliggend aan die PIB/SpEEx Motiveringsindeks. Die resultate toon dat die PIB/SpEEx Motiveringsindeks nie sydig meet nie en dat die konstrukte dus gelykwaardig is vir die verskillende kultuurgroepe.

The present study examines the relationship between commitment to the career choice process and the career maturity of 123 White first year psychology students. The results indicate a statistically highly significant relationship (�? < 0,01) between career maturity and the Vocational Exploration and Commitment subscale of Blustein et al.'s (1989) Commitment to Career Choices Scale and a statistically significant relationship (�? < 0,05) between career maturity and the Tendency to Foreclose subscale. Gender is not significantly related to the findings. <p> Opsomming <br>Die huidige studie ondersoek die verhouding tussen die toegewydheid aan die proses van loopbaankeuse en die loopbaanvolwassenheid van 123 Blanke eerstejaar sielkunde-studente. Die resultate dui op 'n hoogs beduidende statistiese verhouding (�? < 0,01) tussen loopbaanvolwassenheid en die "Vocational Exploration and Commitment" sub-skaal van Blustein et al.'s (1989) se "Commitment to Career Choices Scale". Verder dui die resultate ook op 'n statisties beduidende verhouding (�? < 0,05) tussen loopbaanvolwassenheid en die sub-skaal genaamd "Tendency to Foreclose". Geslag is nie beduidend in verband tot enige van die bevindings gestel nie.

The Job Diagnostic Survey (JDS) and the Job Characteristics Model (JCM) have been widely used in South African organisations. The purpose of this study was to determine whether the JDS is useful if it is applied to a particular population or to groups from highly dissimilar backgrounds. Cultural diversity research has revealed differences between the values, attitudes and leadership styles of people from different cultural groups. In this study, Hackman and Oldham’s JDS was applied to Black and White employees (n=66) to determine construct equivalence for these two cultural groups. Confirmatory factor analysis confirmed that there were no significant differences between the Black and White groups tested, suggesting that the JDS could be applied to different population groups. Opsomming Die Pos-diagnostiese vraelys (JDS) en die Pos-kenmerke Model (JCM) word wydverspreid deur Suid-Afrikaanse organisasies gebruik. Die doel van hierdie studie was om te bepaal of die JDS van toepassing is op verskillende kultuurgroepe. Navorsing rakende kultuurdiversiteit het aangetoon dat daar verskille bestaan rakende die waardes, houdings en leierskapstyle van verskillende kultuurgroepe. In hierdie studie is die (JDS) van Hackman en Oldham toegepas op Swart- en Blanke werknemers (n=677) ten einde die konstruk-ekwivalensie daarvan bepaal. ’n Bevestigende faktorontleding het aangetoon dat daar geen betekenisvolle verskille bestaan tussen die Swart- en Blankegroepe wat getoets is nie. Die aanname word dus gemaak dat die JDS toegepas kan word op verskillende populasiegroepe.

AbstractNANOGLASS®E (NGE) ultra low-k (ULK) dielectric material, with a k-value of ∼2.2, was integrated for 130 nm Cu/ULK interconnect process technology. This work deals with the characterization of reactive ion etching (RIE) and wet chemical processing of this film. Blanket films were characterized for etch rate, surface roughness, k-value change and chemical compatibility. Trench etching and post etch wet clean processes were developed and optimized enabling process integration for single damascene structures. Trench etch processes were evaluated for two etch schemes viz., etching under - photo resist and etching under hardmask. The details of each scheme will be described and advantages observed will be discussed. To evaluate effect of wet clean processes three different formulations were used. After formation of single damascene wafers, metal comb and serpentine structures were measured for metal continuity and bridging. Electrical continuity was achieved for long serpentine structures with 0.18μm/0.18μm line width/spacing. Based on voltage ramp test results the film was found to be sensitive to certain plasma etch conditions.

In 1975 het Dan O’Meara die boek van L Naudé, Dr A. Hertzog, die Nasionale Party en die Mynwerkers, vir die South African Labour Bulletin geresenseer. Daarin bespreek O’Meara die stryd en motiewe van die Afrikaner politieke en kulturele elite om ‘n Afrikaner-nasionalisties-georiënteerde leierskap teen 1948 in beheer van die Mynwerkersunie (MWU) te stel. Resente navorsing, gebaseer op ‘n in diepte studie van die Hertzog-Versameling by die Instituut vir Eietydse Geskiedenis in Bloemfontein, asook ander dokumente, het Hertzog se verdere intieme betrokkenheid by hierdie vakbond in die post-1948 periode aan die lig gebring. Aantygings van korrupsie teen die MWU se hoofsekretaris, Daan Ellis, het tot smeerveldtogte, mosies van wantroue en kommissies van ondersoek na korrupsieklagtes en wanbestuur aanleiding gegee. Dit het ‘n onverkwiklike magstryd tussen PJ Visser, die president van die MWU, en Ellis tot gevolg gehad. Hertzog was ten nouste daarby betrokke. Hertzog en lede van die Afrikaner politieke- en kulturele-elíte was besorg dat die twis en onmin binne die vakbond uiteindelik die beeld van die MWU by blanke mynwerkers, en Afrikanermynwerkers in die besonder, kon benadeel wat op sý beurt weer polities ‘n negatiewe gevolge vir die NP by die stembus kon inhou. Daarom sou Hertzog probeer om met die bestuur van die vakbond in te meng en selfs lede van die Afrikaner Broederbond het gepoog om die magstryd binne die MWU te ontlont. Hierdie artikel poog om ‘n aspek van die politieke lewe van dr. Albert Hertzog te belig, aangesien daar nog geen deurtastende wetenskaplike historiese ondersoek na die politieke lewe van hierdie omstrede figuur in die Suid-Afrikaanse geskiedenis gedoen is nie.

The relationship between anxiety and performance in assessment centre dimensions. This study is aimed at determining whether there is a relationship between Anxiety (Tension and Anxiety), as measured by the Sixteen Personality Factor Questionnaire, and performance in assessment centre dimensions. The data set was collected from 145 white male candidates on entry and middle management level in an auditing firm in Gauteng. Ages of candidates varied from 24 to 35 years (x = 27,52; sd = 6,33). By using regression analyses it was found that Tension and Anxiety mainly show a negative relationship with the so-called interpersonal behaviour dimensions, such as Perseverance, Eogical and persuasive reasoning ability, and Perceived leadership image. The multiple analyses of variance (MANOVAS) for the low, middle and high tension groups and low, middle and high anxiety groups revealed no statistically significant differences in respect of the assessment centre dimensions as a whole. Implications of the findings are discussed in the article. Opsomming Hierdie studie is daarop toegespits om vas te stel of daar 'n verband tussen Angs (Spanning en Angstigheid), soos deur die Sestien-persoonlikheidsfaktorvraelys gemeet, en prestasie in takseersentrumdimensies bestaan. Data is ingesamel van 145 blanke manlike kandidate op toetrede- en middelbestuursvlak in 'n ouditeursfirma in Gauteng. Ouderdomme van kandidate het gewissel van 24 to 35 jaar (x = 27,52; s = 6,33). Daar is deur middel van regressieontledings bevind dat Spanning en Angstigheid hoofsaaklik 'n negatiewe verband met die sogenaamde interpersoonlike gedragsdimensies, byvoorbeeld Deursettingsverrnoe, Eogiese en oorredende redenasievermoe en Waargeiwme leierskapsbeeld toon. Meervoudige variansieontledings (MANOVAS) vir die lae, gemiddelde en hoe spanningsgroepe en die lae, gemiddelde en hoe angstigheidsgroepe hot gcen statisties-beduidende verskille ten opsigte van die takseersentrumdimensies in die geheel opgelewer nie. Implikasies van hierdie bevindinge word in die artikel bespreek.

The aim of this study was to determine the level of adherence of cultural groups to their stereotypical group orientations, i.e. White and Coloured officers tend to be more individualistic, whereas Black officers portray more collectivistic characteristics. Secondly, to determine if their cultural behavior and practices relate to their level of individual or collectivistic orientation. The Individualism- Collectivism Interpersonal Assessment Inventory (ICIAI) of Matsumoto (1992) and a self-constructed questionnaire to measure cultural practices, were administered to 88 undergraduate officer students of the South African Military Academy. The results indicated that no significant differences existed in the Individualism-Collectivism factor between the three groups studied. Only five of the twenty cultural activities (stereotypically associated with Individualism and Collectivism) correlated significantly with the Individualism- Collectivism factor. These findings, the implications thereof and suggestions for possible further research are discussed. Opsomming Die doel van hierdie studie was om die vlak van betrokkenheid van kultuurgroepe tov hul stereotipiese groepsorientasies te bepaal, met ander woorde Blanke en Kleurling offisiere is meer individualisties, waar Swart offisiere meer kollektiwisties in hul kulturele aktiwiteite is. Tweedens, om te bepaal of hulle kulturele gedrag in verband staan met hul individualistiese of kollektiwistiese oriëntasie. Die "Individualism-Collectivism Interpersonal Assessment Inventory" (ICIAI) van Matsomoto (1992) en ’n tweede vraelys, opgestel deur die skrywers om kulturele aktiwiteite te meet, is afgeneem tov 88 voorgraadse offissierstudente van die Suid Afrikaanse Militêre Akademie. Die resultate het aangedui dat daar geen statisties beduidende verskille bestaan tov die individualistiese en kollektiwistiese faktor van die drie kultuurgroepe nie. Net vyf van die twintig kulturele aktiwiteite, getoets deur die tweede vraelys, het ’n beduidende korrelasie met die individualistiese en kollektiwistiese telling getoon. Die resultate, die implikasies daarvan, asook voorstelle vir moontlike verdere navorsing word bespreek.

Globally peatlands store 500 Gt carbon (C), with northern blanket bogs accumulating 23 g C m−2 y−1 due to cool wet conditions. As a sink of carbon dioxide (CO2) peat bogs slow anthropogenic climate change, but warming climate increases the likelihood of drought which may reduce net ecosystem exchange (NEE) and increase soil respiration, tipping C sinks to sources. High water tables make bogs a globally important source of methane (CH4), another greenhouse gas (GHG) with a global warming potential (GWP) 34 times that of CO2. Warming may increase CH4 emissions, but drying may cause a reduction. Predicted species composition changes may also influence GHG balance, due to different traits such as erenchyma, e.g., Eriophorum vaginatum (eriophorum) and non-aerenchymatous species, e.g., Calluna vulgaris (heather). To understand how these ecosystems will respond to climate change, it is vital to measure GHG responses to drought at the species level. An automated chamber system, SkyLine2D, measured NEE and CH4 fluxes near-continuously from an ombrotrophic fen from August 2017 to September 2019. Four ecotypes were identified: sphagnum (Sphagnum spp), eriophorum, heather and water, hypothesizing that fluxes would significantly differ between ecotypes. The 2018 drought allowed comparison of fluxes between drought and non-drought years (May to September), and their recovery the following year. Methane emissions differed between ecotypes (p &lt; 0.02), ordered high to low: eriophorum &gt; sphagnum &gt; water &gt; heather, ranging from 23 to 8 mg CH4-C m−2 d−1. Daily NEE was similar between ecotypes (p &gt; 0.7), but under 2018 drought conditions all ecotypes were greater sources of CO2 compared to 2019, losing 1.14 g and 0.24 g CO2-C m−2 d−1 respectively (p &lt; 0.001). CH4 emissions were ca. 40% higher during 2018 than 2019, 17 mg compared to 12 mg CH4-C m−2 d−1 (p &lt; 0.0001), and fluxes exhibited hysteresis with water table depth. A lag of 84–88 days was observed between rising water table and increased CH4 emissions. A significant interaction between ecotype and year showed fluxes from open water did not return to pre-drought levels. Our findings suggest that short-term drought may lead to a net increase in C emissions from northern wetlands.

‘If I tell you I love you,’ he said, ‘then I’ll have to do something about it.’ ‘When you were an infant,’ I would like to say to my son, ‘I heard your cry through the open window. I sat in the autumn sun, under the peach tree in the courtyard your father and I laid, brick by brick, during the hot summer before you were born. I heard your cry coming from the yellow nursery, through the white window frames and the floating cotton curtains. When I heard that cry, milk flooded my breasts. They swelled and stung, my nipples rose up hard and sprouted fountains; the front of my pink shirt grew dark and soaked. All this, at the sound of your waking cry.’ I offer my breast to my lover. Astride him, I lean forward and lower a round and rosy globe into his waiting mouth. He accepts only its hard tip, while delicately fingering the breast’s curves that are swollen, not with milk this time, but with desire. ‘Suck,’ I whisper and he does, noisily like the babies used to, kneading and fondling. When he said ‘I’ll have to do something about it,’ he meant leave the others who had claims on his affections and take up with me in a permanent way. That was how he understood love, as responsibility, and long term goals. I was uninterested in these matters, young and with no sense of the future. ‘Fuck me,’ I whispered and he dabbled the tips of his fingers ever so slowly, in the wet flowing out of me down there. He watched me. He watched me arch and open my mouth and cry a little and he flicked his tongue against mine, all the while dabbling with the most delicious rhythm, and flicking and whispering ‘Is that good? Do you like that, does it feel nice?’ until I cried out loud, and cried tears too. All that love flooding and stinging me. Stinging and flooding me. The child suckled, but with less urgency, drowsy against my breasts. Milk trickled from the corner of his mouth. I stroked his full cheeks with the tips of my fingers. Counted his toes again as I did every day through the weeks after his birth. Kissed his fair brow, ran my tongue along his soft, fat arms. Fell asleep in the autumn sun underneath the peach tree in the courtyard we’d made. Fell asleep with the milky, snuffling infant heavy in my arms, and my breasts bared to the afternoon breeze. Fell asleep and dreamed I was in heaven. * It wasn’t always thus. For example. My mother, on a carpet of bluebells in a northern forest at midsummer in soft, dappled light made love, and subsequently found herself with child. Her first sexual encounter, a stroke of bad luck if ever there was one. Family shame ensued. A short-lived marriage. A humiliating return to her father’s house with a tiny infant. My soft, fat arms, and my ten curled toes wrapped up tight in the blanket of disgrace. This was only the beginning of the repercussions of that unplanned act, that reckless moment in the bluebells. My mother’s white dress stained bluebell blue and red with her blood. My father’s reassurances that came to nothing. In fairy tales it is never the mother who hovers, heavy with bad intentions, around the growing girl. In fairy tales, it is always the stepmother, as if the notion of a mother consumed by dark passions towards her daughter is too abhorrent for fairy tales to bear. But someone has to bear it. Children. Love blindly, and suffer, and always look out from their being with hope. * Grown up, I lie in my bedroom, alone. It’s late afternoon, and staring out of my window at the darkening sky I see the wicked witch of the west with her pointed hat and her black hair and her long black garments. I watch her fly across clouds made bleeding and orange by the setting sun. It seems to me that she is snarling at me, sending out rays of malevolence towards me where I lie on my white bed. ‘I did not take your life!’ I tell her. ‘I did not take your life!’ When finally I sleep I dream, not of the bad fairy, but of sex. It’s a long time since I’ve been with a man. My nighttime lover is a stranger. The love we make is sweet with greed. It trembles tender and dangerous between us, with lucidity too brilliant to be contained by fairy tales. I wake at dawn in the midst of orgasm. The encounter has about it a perfection that I’ve never known in waking life. * I didn’t know my mother’s breasts, but I remember to this day how her hair hung smooth, like black silk, like black satin, like midnight velvet, across her shoulders, and down the length of her back. I didn’t know my mother’s breasts, but to this day I imagine them as white, as cream, as milk, as soft, as perfumed, as tender, as giving. I imagine them as rosy globes within which love might dwell, waiting for me to suckle, waiting for me to drink from them the secret lessons they contain, the lessons that will set me right in life. What does it mean when you have stolen your mother’s life, I wonder, as I prepare myself for the day. Is it a crime for which one may never atone? * ‘If I tell you I love you,’ he said, ‘then I’ll have to do something about it.’ ‘Best not, then,’ I advised and turned my back on him, the better to grieve my losses and count my blessings and dream my dreams. In another lifetime, I saw him in a car park. We didn’t speak. Though I wanted to, though I made those movements towards him that signal the beginnings of an encounter, he waved me back and gestured with his silver head towards a shadowed figure in the front seat of the car. I understood. I shrugged my bag more securely across my shoulders and walked on. My head held high. That night I remembered everything from years ago, with little or no regret, and with a warm delight that I had once known these things, and yet escaped with my life. * ‘When you were an infant,’ I would like to say to my son, ‘I took you in our bed, you slept between your father and me and in the mornings when we woke my breasts were full and aching. I offered them to you, and when you had finished, and fallen back into your infant dreams, I gave them to your father. These acts of love I count as some of the most generous I have ever performed. Your gratitude and your contentment, your small sighs, your unforgettable gaze, all these let me know the best of everything, at least for a while.’ * The floor of my room is made of pale polished wood, and two brightly patterned oriental carpets lie across it, adding warmth and comfort. On the low table beside my bed there’s a small pile of books, a pair of reading glasses, a blue vase holding several stems of iris I bought at the Sunday markets, and a reading lamp with an engraved glass shade. I stay alone now, in another kind of love. Sometimes I lie in this calm room, on my white bed, and through the window I watch the wicked witch in her long black garments that are like midnight velvet, like black satin, that flow out behind her, smooth as silk. I watch her as she flies back and forth across the darkening sky. Citation reference for this article Substitute your date of access for Dn Month Year etc... MLA Style Wilson, Jennifer. "If I tell you I love you" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.6 (2002). Dn Month Year < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0211/ifitell.php>. APA Style Wilson, J., (2002, Nov 20). If I tell you I love you. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 5,(6). Retrieved Month Dn, Year, from http://www.media-culture.org.au/0211/ifitell.html

Sometimes people engage in joking talk that might be characterized as blatantly sexist.1 A judgmental label such as "sexist" does not mean the same thing to different people. I've picked instances of joking that I think most readers would judge as sexist. That is not a claim that the participants themselves orient to the talk as sexist; or if they did, that they would agree that such joking is problematic. Indeed, one purpose of undertaking such analysis is to attempt to characterize what the talk is and what it is doing for its producers in the first place. What do people accomplish in and through joking based on negative sexual stereotypes? Three examples are presented below. One involves demeaning joking about categories of women; the other two involve demeaning joking about particular individuals. 2 In all three cases, this talk provides a resource for participants to mark aspects of identity and relationship while furthering joking and laughter. The laughables and laughter provide sequential warrants for extending such talk. Furthermore, analysis will show how participants may implicate themselves more or less in offensive talk; there are minimal ways to play along just as there are ways to mark one's full cooperation in what is getting said. These issues will be taken up in the discussion of each instance and in the closing remarks. Example 1: Stan and Dave Two university students are talking on the phone. At the moment of interest, Stan is telling of his recent whereabouts. Dave takes this mention of a wedding to make a comment (line 39) that opens up a sequence of demeaning talk about women: Dave's initial assessment of the "wool" at weddings is gratuitous in that it takes one element from Stan's prior telling and uses it to sexualize the talk. Weddings are now occasions for noticing good-looking women. Stan immediately agrees with Dave's assessment3 and provides an alternative term, "coot" (line 40), thereby implicating himself fully in the demeaning talk. Their use of metaphorical language helps key a shift into a play frame (Goffman, 1974), and they sustain it with additional metaphors ("shit," "dog meat"). Stan compares girls "down here" (in the college town) to the city girls "up there" (in the big city in that state) in terms of their desirability, sexual availability, and demeanor (lines 44-54). They compare overweight girls to livestock and laugh (lines 58-66). Following Dave's laughter, Stan poses a question that takes them to another topic (lines 67-68). The sexist nature of this talk lies both in the activities done and in the terms used in doing those actions. They refer to women in colloquial, sexual, reductionistic terms, based on the objectifying male gaze. They assess women as either good-looking and a "challenge" or overweight but "easy to grease," both sets of comparisons playing on derogatory stereotypes (cold/standoffish v. easy/sluttish; thin/desirable v. overweight/undesirable). They compare women to wool, coot, shit, dog meat, and livestock. We can see these young men doing identity and relationship work through this talk. By making the blanket assertion about "wool" at weddings, Dave positions himself as worldly and knowledgeable enough to make this assessment. Stan's agreement asserts his membership in the club of discerning, heterosexual male. They claim knowledge of whether women are "easy to grease" or not. Dave positions himself as picking and choosing women for sexual partners, provided they keep themselves thin enough. They are also accomplishing relationship work. Dave is the leader who initiates the assessments. Stan is the follower who reinforces Dave's claims and laughs at Dave's jokes. "Women" serve as topical resources for these endeavors. Example 2: Dan and Jeff Two men talk on the phone, interspersing playful joking with family news and business (Apparently, Dan manages an apartment complex and Jeff does work for him). After a couple of minutes of conversation, Jeff asks Dan's Thanksgiving holiday plans and Dan replies that he and his wife will leave town and leave another person in charge of the apartments. Reference to this person moves them into blatantly sexist talk: Dan's initial reference to Dana as "one a the girls" (line 79) genders the scene4 , but he does not refer to the specific woman until following Jeff's show of interest (line 82). He identifies the "girl" by first name only in a question that calls on Jeff to confirm recognition of her. Jeff does so by providing an additional descriptor of her as having "big- wangers" (line 84)--hearable as a colloquialism for breasts. Jeff's questioning intonation invites Dan to confirm that they are talking about the same person. In this way it slips sexism in as part of the ongoing talk activity5 . It also serves to shift the talk from the topic of holiday plans to Donna and her appearance. Dan produces an unenthusiastic confirmation (line 86) and a nonsexual reference to her by a room location (lines 88-89). Jeff again assesses while shifting the referent from breasts to the whole person ("Big girl, bi:g.="). Dan seconds this assessment and links back to the previous "wangers" reference by adding that "everything's" big on her. Jeff's expressed appreciation (line 94) of Donna draws laughter from Dan but no reciprocal appreciation. Jeff again appreciates (line 98) and Dan agrees but does not share the assessment, implicitly marking it as Jeff's alone (lines 100-101). Dan then asks Jeff's holiday plans, and this moves them away from the playful talk about Donna. Like in the preceding instance, here both playfulness and sexism get keyed by an assessment employing metaphoric language that reduces a woman to a (presumably sexually attractive) body part and instantiates the objectifying male gaze. By this assessment, Jeff identifies himself as heterosexual male who notices women's possible sexual attractiveness. Unlike the previous instance, however, here a co-participant displays some resistance (Glenn, 2003, p. 150). "Wangers" poses a test of sorts for Dan: to "get it" he must recognize the colloquialism, know what constitutes "big," and show whether or not he has noticed this part of Donna's anatomy. To do so is to participate in sexist talk. Dan shows that he understands the talk and has noticed Dana's appearance; he also shows resistance to participating in the sexualized assessments of her. Nevertheless, the "wangers" talk provides a resource for pulling them into joking interaction. While joking they can display identities as heterosexual males who recognize and can talk about sexual, visual features of women. Example 3: W and T Two university students talk in a dormitory room6 . W is telling a story about Monica, who is his "little sister" via his fraternity. Such a relationship implies in part that they spend time together in non-dating, non-sexual relationship. As we pick up on the story in progress, he is telling about her coming out of her room and asking him how she looks. His reference to not starting with her "on the wrong foot" suggests that she was treating him (inappropriately) like a date. In overlap with his talk that would return to events in the story (line 34), T offers a negative assessment of Monica's looks. From there they move into joking talk about Melissa as a possible sexual partner: T packages his assessment of Monica's looks (lines 35-36) with a tag question that explicitly seeks W's agreement. W's ambiguous response marks his unwillingness to agree with the assessment. Orienting to this, T produces a subsequent version (Davidson, 1984) that begins with a more positive but also more explicitly sexual description (lines 39-40). W affiliates by assessing Monica's breasts (line 42). This line also helps key a shift into playfulness by its repetition of the three part assessment: "XXX little XXX" ("nice litt:le- bo:dy" and "cute little breasts"). 7 In a mock-Southern dialect (associated with a stereotypical "redneck" identity), T invokes and then declines the possibility of doing her violence (line 44). W affiliates in expressing sexual desire "in character" also using a mock-Southern dialect (lines 46, 48-49). He makes a sexual pun on the word "rise" (51) which T reworks (52). After lengthy shared laughter, W resumes his story (line 58). These two young men talk about Monica, not as a "little sister" (her role in W's story) but as a sexual object. They describe her body parts in demeaning terms. They invoke joking identities as sexually violent characters who might consider killing a girl if she isn't attractive enough. They get to this talk by T derailing W's story in progress and W going along with the derailment. Derailing the story also means unmasking W's character in the story as someone who is concerned that his "little sister" might be treating him as a date. Dislodging W's big brother identity brings him to acknowledge that he, like T, has turned the male gaze on Monica and can provide assessments of her body and attractiveness. It allows space for them affiliate as heterosexual males who view women and women's bodies. More specifically, they align in their (mildly) positive assessment of Melissa. Talking about Monica as a sexual object provides them a basis for joking, doing character voices, punning, and sharing laughter. Discussion These three instances share several common features. In each, Speaker A is engaged in an extended talk activity (listing events, recounting holiday plans, telling a story). Speaker B plays off of some aspect of Speaker A's talk to introduce a sexually-based assessment of a woman or women. Speaker A responds and the participants move into joking and laughter. All three instances involve "dissector" talk (Hopper, 2003, p. 149) that reduces women to supposedly desirable body parts (wool, wangers, and breasts). The sexual items B Speakers introduce are gratuitous in that they do not pursue the topic of talk on the floor but rather seize an opportunity to sexualize the talk. In the course of doing so they accomplish moving the talk away from what it was in the preceding turn. They initiate a new sequence in which response to the sexual item is relevant. At the same time, in two of the three instances the A speakers explicitly provide a basis for gendering the talk in their previous turns ("one of the girls" and "let's not start this off on the wrong foot"). Joking and laughter occur within sequential environments conducive to producing sexually demeaning talk that forwards an ecology of prejudice. Such talk provides materials for participants to display interactional intimacy. A speaker may introduce sexual references in order to move towards displays of like-mindedness. In each of the three instances, the B speaker produces an impropriety-a potentially offensive comment or term. Jefferson, Sacks, & Schegloff (1987) show the range of responses relevant to an impropriety, ranging from disaffiliation to appreciating with laughter and/or talk to escalating with a new impropriety. To disaffiliate from such an impropriety is to reject the proposed intimate relationship and impose distance. An escalation following an impropriety ratifies a mutual display of interactional intimacy. A first joke or humorous remark prompting laughter provides a sequential warrant for any speaker producing another such to extend the laughter (Glenn, 2003, Ch. 4). Laughter becomes a goal for its own sake. Thus it is no accident that such intimacy sequences routinely accompany (and get accomplished through) joking talk. A second speaker producing a next humorous or playful impropriety both forwards the laughing environment and ratifies like-mindedness. The introduction of sexual joking, whether it involves assessments, metaphorical language, or stereotyping, presents a potent interactional crossroads. By acknowledging the sexualized items the A speakers implicate themselves in this kind of talk. However, if the A Speakers disattend the sexual talk they risk being treated as naive, hypocritical, puritanical, unfriendly, or (perhaps worst of all for these individuals) not a "real" man8. For all these reasons, it is not surprising to find sexually demeaning talk occurring in environments characterized by joking, humor, and laughter. Affirming identity and pursuing relational intimacy are not in and of themselves problematic actions. Neither, of course, is joking. We can ask ourselves what alternatives exist for these men to joke, affirm masculinity, and affiliate, without demeaning women. Yet asking such questions and labeling this talk "sexist" are part of our interaction as writer and reader, not theirs. They produced their talk for and with each other, 9 and substantive critique of such talk will benefit from coming to grips with how it unfolds in situ and what it is about for the people producing it. Otherwise we risk reifying a divide between participants' and analysts' worlds that trivializes both. Notes 1. For a discussion of sexism see Hopper, 2003, 27-30. 2. That these all involve (presumably heterosexual) males talking about females is a matter of convenience sampling. It does not mean that only males engage in such talk, although it is possible that certain groups do so with greater regularity. 3. Interestingly, Stan locates his assessment in a single wedding; Dave's assessment is of weddings, generalized. 4. See analysis of this in Hopper, 2003, pp. 122-123; also see Hopper and LeBaron, 1998 characterizing how participants bring gender into talk 5. See Sacks and Schegloff (1979) regarding rules for person reference in conversation. 6. See insightful analyses of this conversation in Beach, 2000, and Hopper, 2003, p. 162. 7. For a discussion of repetition's role in triggering play, see Hopper and Glenn, 1994. 8. Sacks (1974) shows how in a teenage group therapy session dirty jokes may pose "understanding tests" for which those caught not "getting" the joke may be teased or regarded as naïve. Glenn (2003) shows how a hearer failing to get a sexual joke leads him to be a victim of laughing at. 9. Their talk may also orient to other present and future listeners; we can only speculate how knowledge of being recorded might have figured in their interactions. Works Cited Bateson, G. (1972). A theory of play and fantasy. In Steps to an ecology of mind (pp. 177-193). New York: Ballantine. Beach. W. A. (2000). Inviting collaborations in stories about a woman. Language in Society, 29, 379-407. Booker, J. L. (1991). The Jewish American Princess and other myths: The many faces of self hatred. New York: Shapolsky Publishers. Davidson, J. A. (1984). Subsequent versions of invitations, offers, requests, and proposals dealing with potential or actual rejection. In: J. M. Atkinson & J. Heritage (Eds.), Structures of social action: Studies in conversation analysis (pp. 102-128). Cambridge University Press. Glenn, P. (2003). Laughter in interaction. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press. Goffman, E. (1974). Frame analysis; An essay on the organization of experience. New York: Harper & Row. Hopper, R. (2003). Gendering talk. East Lansing: Michigan State University Press. Hopper, R., Glenn, P. J. (1994). Repetition and play in conversation. In: B. Johnstone (Ed.), Repetition in discourse: Interdisciplinary perspectives, Vol. II (pp. 29-40). Norwood, NJ: Ablex. Hopper, R., & LeBaron , C. (1998). How gender creeps into talk. Research on Language and Social Interaction, 31, 1, 59-74. Jefferson, G., Sacks, H., & Schegloff, E. (1987). Notes on laughter in the pursuit of intimacy. In G. Button & J. R. E. Lee (Eds.), Talk and social organisation (pp. 152-205). Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Sacks, H. (1974). An analysis of the course of a joke's telling in conversation. In R. Bauman and J. Sherzer (Eds.), Explorations in the ethnography of speaking (pp. 337-353). London: Cambridge University Press. Sacks, H., & Schegloff, E. A. (1979). Two preferences in the organization of reference to persons in conversation and their interaction. In G. Psathas (Ed.), Everyday language; Studies in ethnomethdology (pp. 15-21). New York: Irvington. Tannen, D. (1989). Talking voices: Repetition, dialogue and imagery in conversational discourse. Cambridge University Press. Links Transcription symbols http://www-staff.lboro.ac.uk/~ssca1/notation.htm Citation reference for this article MLA Style Glenn, Phillip. "On Sexism in Conversational Joking" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0311/1-glenn-feature-sexism.html>. APA Style Glenn, P. (2003, Nov 10). On Sexism in Conversational Joking. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 6, <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0311/1-glenn-feature-sexism.html>

Cyborgs already walk among us. (“Cures to Come” 76) This essay was begun as a reaction to a Hallmark Hall of Fame television movie called Sweet Nothing in My Ear (2008), which follows the lives of two parents, Dan, who is hearing (played by Jeff Daniels), and Laura, who is deaf (Marlee Matlin), as they struggle to make a decision about whether or not to give their 11-year-old son, Adam (late-deafened), a cochlear implant. Dan and Laura represent different perspectives, hearing and deaf perspectives. The film dramatizes the parents’ conflict and negotiation, exposing audiences to both sides of the cochlear implant debate, albeit in a fairly simplistic way. Nevertheless, it represents the lives of deaf people and gives voice to debates about cochlear implants with more accuracy and detail than most film and television dramas. One of the central scenes in the film is what I call the “activation scene”, quite common to cochlear implant narratives. In the scene, the protagonists witness a child having his implant activated or turned on. The depiction is reminiscent of the WATER scene in the film about Helen Keller, The Miracle Worker, employing a sentimental visual rhetoric. First, the two parents are shown seated near the child, clasping their hands as if in prayer. The audiologist, wielder of technology and therefore clearly the authority figure in the scene, types away furiously on her laptop. At the moment of being “turned on,” the child suddenly “hears” his father calling “David! David!” He gazes angelically toward heaven as piano music plays plaintively in the background. The parents all but fall to their knees and the protagonist of the film, Dan, watching through a window, weeps. It is a scene of cure, of healing, of “miracle,” a hyper-sentimentalised portrait of what is in reality often a rather anti-climactic event. It was certainly anti-climactic in my son, Michael’s case. I was taken aback by how this scene was presented and dismayed overall at some of the inaccuracies, small though they were, in the portrayal of cochlear implants in this film. It was, after all, according to the Nielsen ratings, seen by 8 million people. I began to wonder what kinds of misconceptions my son was going to face when he met people whose only exposure to implants was through media representations. Spurred by this question, I started to research other recent portrayals of people with implants on U.S. television in the past ten years, to see how cochlear implant (hereafter referred to as CI) identity has been portrayed by American media. For most of American history, deaf people have been portrayed in print and visual media as exotic “others,” and have long been the subject of an almost morbid cultural fascination. Christopher Krentz suggests that, particularly in the nineteenth century, scenes pairing sentimentality and deafness repressed an innate, Kristevan “abject” revulsion towards deaf people. Those who are deaf highlight and define, through their ‘lack’, the “unmarked” body. The fact of their deafness, understood as lack, conjures up an ideal that it does not attain, the ideal of the so-called “normal” or “whole” body. In recent years, however, the figure of the “deaf as Other” in the media, has shifted from what might be termed the “traditionally” deaf character, to what Brenda Jo Brueggeman (in her recent book Deaf Subjects: Between Identities and Places), calls “the new deaf cyborg” or the deaf person with a cochlear implant (4). N. Katharine Hailes states that cyborgs are now “the stage on which are performed contestations about the body boundaries that have often marked class, ethnic, and cultural differences” (85). In this essay, I claim that the character with a CI, as portrayed in the media, is now not only a strange, “marked” “Other,” but is also a screen upon which viewers project anxieties about technology, demonstrating both fascination fear. In her book, Brueggeman issues a call to action, saying that Deaf Studies must now begin to examine what she calls “implanting rhetorics,” or “the rhetorical relationships between our technologies and our identity” and therefore needs to attend to the construction of “the new deaf cyborg” (18). This short study will serve, I hope, as both a response to that injunction and as a jumping-off point for more in-depth studies of the construction of the CI identity and the implications of these constructions. First, we should consider what a cochlear implant is and how it functions. The National Association of the Deaf in the United States defines the cochlear implant as a device used to help the user perceive sound, i.e., the sensation of sound that is transmitted past the damaged cochlea to the brain. In this strictly sensorineural manner, the implant works: the sensation of sound is delivered to the brain. The stated goal of the implant is for it to function as a tool to enable deaf children to develop language based on spoken communication. (“NAD Position”) The external portion of the implant consists of the following parts: a microphone, which picks up sound from the environment, which is contained in the behind-the-ear device that resembles the standard BTE hearing aid; in this “hearing aid” there is also a speech processor, which selects and arranges sounds picked up by the microphone. The processor transmits signals to the transmitter/receiver, which then converts them into electric impulses. Part of the transmitter sits on the skin and attaches to the inner portion of the transmitter by means of a magnet. The inner portion of the receiver/stimulator sends the impulses down into the electrode array that lies inside the cochlea, which in turn stimulates the auditory nerve, giving the brain the impression of sound (“Cochlear Implants”). According to manufacturer’s statistics, there are now approximately 188,000 people worldwide who have obtained cochlear implants, though the number of these that are in use is not known (Nussbaum). That is what a cochlear implant is. Before we can look at how people with implants are portrayed in the media, before we examine constructions of identity, perhaps we should first ask what constitutes a “real” CI identity? This is, of course, laughable; pinning down a homogeneous CI identity is no more likely than finding a blanket definition of “deaf identity.” For example, at this point in time, there isn’t even a word or term in American culture for someone with an implant. I struggle with how to phrase it in this essay - “implantee?” “recipient?” - there are no neat labels. In the USA you can call a person deaf, Deaf (the “D” representing a specific cultural and political identity), hearing impaired, hard of hearing, and each gradation implies, for better or worse, some kind of subject position. There are no such terms for a person who gets an implant. Are people with implants, as suggested above, just deaf? Deaf? Are they hard of hearing? There is even debate in the ASL community as to what sign should be used to indicate “someone who has a cochlear implant.” If a “CI identity” cannot be located, then perhaps the rhetoric that is used to describe it may be. Paddy Ladd, in Understanding Deaf Culture, does a brilliant job of exploring the various discourses that have surrounded deaf culture throughout history. Stuart Blume borrows heavily from Ladd in his “The Rhetoric and Counter-Rhetoric of a 'Bionic' Technology”, where he points out that an “essential and deliberate feature” of the history of the CI from the 60s onward, was that it was constructed in an overwhelmingly positive light by the mass media, using what Ladd calls the “medical” rhetorical model. That is, that the CI is a kind of medical miracle that promised to cure deafness. Within this model one may find also the sentimental, “missionary” rhetoric that Krentz discusses, what Ladd claims is a revival of the evangelism of the nineteenth-century Oralist movement in America. Indeed, newspaper articles in the 1980s and 90s hailed the implant as a “breakthrough”, a “miracle”; even a quick survey of headlines shows evidence of this: “Upton Boy Can Hear at Last!”, “Girl with a New Song in Her Heart”, “Children Head Queue for Bionic Ears” (Lane). As recently as January 2010, an issue of National Geographic featured on its cover the headline Merging Man and Machine: The Bionic Age. Sure enough, the second photograph in the story is of a child’s bilateral cochlear implant, with the caption “within months of the surgery (the child) spoke the words his hearing parents longed for: Mama and Dada.” “You’re looking at a real bionic kid,” says Johns Hopkins University surgeon John Niparko, proudly (37). To counter this medical/corporate rhetoric of cure, Ladd and Blume claim, the deaf community devised a counter-rhetoric, a discourse in which the CI is not cast in the language of miracle and life, but instead in terms of death, mutilation, and cultural oppression. Here, the implant is depicted as the last in a long line of sadistic experiments using the deaf as guinea pigs. Often the CI is framed in the language of Nazism and genocide as seen in the title of an article in the British Deaf News: “Cochlear Implants: Oralism’s Final Solution.” So, which of these two “implanting rhetorics” is most visible in the current construction of the CI in American television? Is the CI identity presented by rendering people with CIs impossibly positive, happy characters? Is it delineated using the metaphors of the sentimental, of cure, of miracle? Or is the CI identity constructed using the counter-rhetorical references to death, oppression and cultural genocide? One might hypothesize that television, like other media, cultivating as it does the values of the hearing hegemony, would err on the side of promulgating the medicalised, positivist rhetoric of the “cure” for deafness. In an effort to find out, I conducted a general survey of American television shows from 2000 to now that featured characters with CIs. I did not include news shows or documentaries in my survey. Interestingly, some of the earliest television portrayals of CIs appeared in that bastion of American sentimentality, the daytime soap opera. In 2006, on the show “The Young and the Restless”, a “troubled college student who contracted meningitis” received an implant, and in 2007 “All My Children” aired a story arc about a “toddler who becomes deaf after a car crash.” It is interesting to note that both characters were portrayed as “late-deafened”, or suddenly inflicted with the loss of a sense they previously possessed, thus avoiding any whiff of controversy about early implantation. But one expects a hyper-sentimentalised portrayal of just about everything in daytime dramas like this. What is interesting is that when people with CIs have appeared on several “reality” programs, which purport to offer “real,” unadulterated glimpses into people’s lives, the rhetoric is no less sentimentalized than the soaps (perhaps because these shows are no less fabricated). A good example of this is the widely watched and, I think, ironically named show “True Life” which appears on MTV. This is a series that claims to tell the “remarkable real-life stories of young people and the unusual subcultures they inhabit.” In episode 42, “ True Life: I’m Deaf”, part of the show follows a young man, Chris, born deaf and proud of it (his words), who decides to get a cochlear implant because he wants to be involved in the hearing world. Through an interpreter Chris explains that he wants an implant so he can communicate with his friends, talk with girls, and ultimately fulfill his dreams of having a job and getting married (one has to ask: are these things he can’t do without an implant?). The show’s promo asks “how do you go from living a life in total silence to fully understanding the spoken language?” This statement alone contains two elements common to the “miracle” rhetoric, first that the “tragic” deaf victim will emerge from a completely lonely, silent place (not true; most deaf people have some residual hearing, and if you watch the show you see Chris signing, “speaking” voluminously) to seamlessly, miraculously, “fully” joining and understanding the hearing world. Chris, it seems, will only come into full being when he is able to join the hearing world. In this case, the CI will cure what ails him. According to “True Life.” Aside from “soap opera” drama and so-called reality programming, by far the largest dissemination of media constructions of the CI in the past ten years occurred on top-slot prime-time television shows, which consist primarily of the immensely popular genre of the medical and police procedural drama. Most of these shows have at one time or another had a “deaf” episode, in which there is a deaf character or characters involved, but between 2005 and 2008, it is interesting to note that most, if not all of the most popular of these have aired episodes devoted to the CI controversy, or have featured deaf characters with CIs. The shows include: CSI (both Miami and New York), Cold Case, Law and Order (both SVU and Criminal Intent), Scrubs, Gideon’s Crossing, and Bones. Below is a snippet of dialogue from Bones: Zach: {Holding a necklace} He was wearing this.Angela: Catholic boy.Brennan: One by two forceps.Angela {as Brennan pulls a small disc out from behind the victim’s ear} What is that?Brennan: Cochlear implant. Looks like the birds were trying to get it.Angela: That would set a boy apart from the others, being deaf.(Bones, “A Boy in the Tree”, 1.3, 2005) In this scene, the forensics experts are able to describe significant points of this victim’s identity using the only two solid artifacts left in the remains, a crucifix and a cochlear implant. I cite this scene because it serves, I believe, as a neat metaphor for how these shows, and indeed television media in general, are, like the investigators, constantly engaged in the business of cobbling together identity: in this particular case, a cochlear implant identity. It also shows how an audience can cultivate or interpret these kinds of identity constructions, here, the implant as an object serves as a tangible sign of deafness, and from this sign, or clue, the “audience” (represented by the spectator, Angela) immediately infers that the victim was lonely and isolated, “set apart from the others.” Such wrongheaded inferences, frivolous as they may seem coming from the realm of popular culture, have, I believe, a profound influence on the perceptions of larger society. The use of the CI in Bones is quite interesting, because although at the beginning of the show the implant is a key piece of evidence, that which marks and identifies the dead/deaf body, the character’s CI identity proves almost completely irrelevant to the unfolding of the murder-mystery. The only times the CI character’s deafness is emphasized are when an effort is made to prove that the he committed suicide (i.e., if you’re deaf you are therefore “isolated,” and therefore you must be miserable enough to kill yourself). Zak, one of the forensics officers says, “I didn’t talk to anyone in high school and I didn’t kill myself” and another officer comments that the boy was “alienated by culture, by language, and by his handicap” (odd statements, since most deaf children with or without implants have remarkably good language ability). Also, in another strange moment, the victim’s ambassador/mother shows a video clip of the child’s CI activation and says “a person who lived through this miracle would never take his own life” (emphasis mine). A girlfriend, implicated in the murder (the boy is killed because he threatened to “talk”, revealing a blackmail scheme), says “people didn’t notice him because of the way he talked but I liked him…” So at least in this show, both types of “implanting rhetoric” are employed; a person with a CI, though the recipient of a “miracle,” is also perceived as “isolated” and “alienated” and unfortunately, ends up dead. This kind of rather negative portrayal of a person with a CI also appears in the CSI: New York episode ”Silent Night” which aired in 2006. One of two plot lines features Marlee Matlin as the mother of a deaf family. At the beginning of the episode, after feeling some strange vibrations, Matlin’s character, Gina, checks on her little granddaughter, Elizabeth, who is crying hysterically in her crib. She finds her daughter, Alison, dead on the floor. In the course of the show, it is found that a former boyfriend, Cole, who may have been the father of the infant, struggled with and shot Alison as he was trying to kidnap the baby. Apparently Cole “got his hearing back” with a cochlear implant, no longer considered himself Deaf, and wanted the child so that she wouldn’t be raised “Deaf.” At the end of the show, Cole tries to abduct both grandmother and baby at gunpoint. As he has lost his external transmitter, he is unable to understand what the police are trying to tell him and threatens to kill his hostages. He is arrested in the end. In this case, the CI recipient is depicted as a violent, out of control figure, calmed (in this case) only by Matlin’s presence and her ability to communicate with him in ASL. The implication is that in getting the CI, Cole is “killing off” his Deaf identity, and as a result, is mentally unstable. Talking to Matlin, whose character is a stand-in for Deaf culture, is the only way to bring him back to his senses. The October 2007 episode of CSI: Miami entitled “Inside-Out” is another example of the counter-rhetoric at work in the form of another implant corpse. A police officer, trying to prevent the escape of a criminal en route to prison, thinks he has accidentally shot an innocent bystander, a deaf woman. An exchange between the coroner and a CSI goes as follows: (Alexx Woods): “This is as innocent as a victim gets.”(Calleigh Duquesne): “How so?”AW: Check this out.”CD: “I don’t understand. Her head is magnetized? Steel plate?”AW: “It’s a cochlear implant. Helps deaf people to receive and process speech and sounds.”(CSI dramatization) AW VO: “It’s surgically implanted into the inner ear. Consists of a receiver that decodes and transmits to an electrode array sending a signal to the brain.”CD: “Wouldn’t there be an external component?”AW: “Oh, she must have lost it before she was shot.”CD: “Well, that explains why she didn’t get out of there. She had no idea what was going on.” (TWIZ) Based on the evidence, the “sign” of the implant, the investigators are able to identify the victim as deaf, and they infer therefore that she is innocent. It is only at the end of the program that we learn that the deaf “innocent” was really the girlfriend of the criminal, and was on the scene aiding in his escape. So she is at first “as innocent” as they come, and then at the end, she is the most insidious of the criminals in the episode. The writers at least provide a nice twist on the more common deaf-innocent stereotype. Cold Case showcased a CI in the 2008 episode “Andy in C Minor,” in which the case of a 17-year-old deaf boy is reopened. The boy, Andy, had disappeared from his high school. In the investigation it is revealed that his hearing girlfriend, Emma, convinced him to get an implant, because it would help him play the piano, which he wanted to do in order to bond with her. His parents, deaf, were against the idea, and had him promise to break up with Emma and never bring up the CI again. His body is found on the campus, with a cochlear device next to his remains. Apparently Emma had convinced him to get the implant and, in the end, Andy’s father had reluctantly consented to the surgery. It is finally revealed that his Deaf best friend, Carlos, killed him with a blow to the back of the head while he was playing the piano, because he was “afraid to be alone.” This show uses the counter-rhetoric of Deaf genocide in an interesting way. In this case it is not just the CI device alone that renders the CI character symbolically “dead” to his Deaf identity, but it leads directly to his being literally executed by, or in a sense, excommunicated from, Deaf Culture, as it is represented by the character of Carlos. The “House Divided” episode of House (2009) provides the most problematic (or I should say absurd) representation of the CI process and of a CI identity. In the show, a fourteen-year-old deaf wrestler comes into the hospital after experiencing terrible head pain and hearing “imaginary explosions.” Doctors Foreman and Thirteen dutifully serve as representatives of both sides of the “implant debate”: when discussing why House hasn’t mocked the patient for not having a CI, Thirteen says “The patient doesn’t have a CI because he’s comfortable with who he is. That’s admirable.” Foreman says, “He’s deaf. It’s not an identity, it’s a disability.” 13: “It’s also a culture.” F: “Anything I can simulate with $3 earplugs isn’t a culture.” Later, House, talking to himself, thinks “he’s going to go through life deaf. He has no idea what he’s missing.” So, as usual, without permission, he orders Chase to implant a CI in the patient while he is under anesthesia for another procedure (a brain biopsy). After the surgery the team asks House why he did it and he responds, “Why would I give someone their hearing? Ask God the same question you’d get the same answer.” The shows writers endow House’s character, as they usually do, with the stereotypical “God complex” of the medical establishment, but in doing also they play beautifully into the Ladd and Blume’s rhetoric of medical miracle and cure. Immediately after the implant (which the hospital just happened to have on hand) the incision has, miraculously, healed overnight. Chase (who just happens to be a skilled CI surgeon and audiologist) activates the external processor (normally a months-long process). The sound is overwhelming, the boy hears everything. The mother is upset. “Once my son is stable,” the mom says, “I want that THING out of his head.” The patient also demands that the “thing” be removed. Right after this scene, House puts a Bluetooth in his ear so he can talk to himself without people thinking he’s crazy (an interesting reference to how we all are becoming cyborgs, more and more “implanted” with technology). Later, mother and son have the usual touching sentimental scene, where she speaks his name, he hears her voice for the first time and says, “Is that my name? S-E-T-H?” Mom cries. Seth’s deaf girlfriend later tells him she wishes she could get a CI, “It’s a great thing. It will open up a whole new world for you,” an idea he rejects. He hears his girlfriend vocalize, and asks Thirteen if he “sounds like that.” This for some reason clinches his decision about not wanting his CI and, rather than simply take off the external magnet, he rips the entire device right out of his head, which sends him into shock and system failure. Ultimately the team solves the mystery of the boy’s initial ailment and diagnoses him with sarcoidosis. In a final scene, the mother tells her son that she is having them replace the implant. She says it’s “my call.” This show, with its confusing use of both the sentimental and the counter-rhetoric, as well as its outrageous inaccuracies, is the most egregious example of how the CI is currently being constructed on television, but it, along with my other examples, clearly shows the Ladd/Blume rhetoric and counter rhetoric at work. The CI character is on one hand portrayed as an innocent, infantilized, tragic, or passive figure that is the recipient of a medical miracle kindly urged upon them (or forced upon them, as in the case of House). On the other hand, the CI character is depicted in the language of the counter-rhetoric: as deeply flawed, crazed, disturbed or damaged somehow by the incursions onto their Deaf identity, or, in the worst case scenario, they are dead, exterminated. Granted, it is the very premise of the forensic/crime drama to have a victim, and a dead victim, and it is the nature of the police drama to have a “bad,” criminal character; there is nothing wrong with having both good and bad CI characters, but my question is, in the end, why is it an either-or proposition? Why is CI identity only being portrayed in essentialist terms on these types of shows? Why are there no realistic portrayals of people with CIs (and for that matter, deaf people) as the richly varied individuals that they are? These questions aside, if these two types of “implanting rhetoric”, the sentimentalised and the terminated, are all we have at the moment, what does it mean? As I mentioned early in this essay, deaf people, along with many “others,” have long helped to highlight and define the hegemonic “norm.” The apparent cultural need for a Foucauldian “marked body” explains not only the popularity of crime dramas, but it also could explain the oddly proliferant use of characters with cochlear implants in these particular shows. A person with an implant on the side of their head is definitely a more “marked” body than the deaf person with no hearing aid. The CI character is more controversial, more shocking; it’s trendier, “sexier”, and this boosts ratings. But CI characters are, unlike their deaf predecessors, now serving an additional cultural function. I believe they are, as I claim in the beginning of this essay, screens upon which our culture is now projecting repressed anxieties about emergent technology. The two essentialist rhetorics of the cochlear implant, the rhetoric of the sentimental, medical model, and the rhetoric of genocide, ultimately represent our technophilia and our technophobia. The CI character embodies what Debra Shaw terms a current, “ontological insecurity that attends the interface between the human body and the datasphere” (85). We are growing more nervous “as new technologies shape our experiences, they blur the lines between the corporeal and incorporeal, between physical space and virtual space” (Selfe). Technology either threatens the integrity of the self, “the coherence of the body” (we are either dead or damaged) or technology allows us to transcend the limitations of the body: we are converted, “transformed”, the recipient of a happy modern miracle. In the end, I found that representations of CI on television (in the United States) are overwhelmingly sentimental and therefore essentialist. It seems that the conflicting nineteenth century tendency of attraction and revulsion toward the deaf is still, in the twenty-first century, evident. We are still mired in the rhetoric of “cure” and “control,” despite an active Deaf counter discourse that employs the language of the holocaust, warning of the extermination of yet another cultural minority. We are also daily becoming daily more “embedded in cybernetic systems,” with our laptops, emails, GPSs, PDAs, cell phones, Bluetooths, and the likes. We are becoming increasingly engaged in a “necessary relationship with machines” (Shaw 91). We are gradually becoming no longer “other” to the machine, and so our culturally constructed perceptions of ourselves are being threatened. In the nineteenth century, divisions and hierarchies between a white male majority and the “other” (women, African Americans, immigrants, Native Americans) began to blur. Now, the divisions between human and machine, as represented by a person with a CI, are starting to blur, creating anxiety. Perhaps this anxiety is why we are trying, at least in the media, symbolically to ‘cure’ the marked body or kill off the cyborg. Future examinations of the discourse should, I believe, use these media constructions as a lens through which to continue to examine and illuminate the complex subject position of the CI identity, and therefore, perhaps, also explore what the subject position of the post/human identity will be. References "A Boy in a Tree." Patrick Norris (dir.), Hart Hanson (by), Emily Deschanel (perf.). Bones, Fox Network, 7 Sep. 2005. “Andy in C Minor.” Jeannete Szwarc (dir.), Gavin Harris (by), Kathryn Morris (perf.). Cold Case, CBS Network, 30 March 2008. Blume, Stuart. “The Rhetoric and Counter Rhetoric of a “Bionic” Technology.” Science, Technology and Human Values 22.1 (1997): 31-56. Brueggemann, Brenda Jo. Deaf Subjects: Between Identities and Places. New York: New York UP, 2009. “Cochlear Implant Statistics.” ASL-Cochlear Implant Community. Blog. Citing Laurent Le Clerc National Deaf Education Center. Gallaudet University, 18 Mar. 2008. 29 Apr. 2010 ‹http:/ /aslci.blogspot.com/2008/03/cochlear-implant-statistics.html›. “Cures to Come.” Discover Presents the Brain (Spring 2010): 76. Fischman, Josh. “Bionics.” National Geographic Magazine 217 (2010). “House Divided.” Greg Yaitanes (dir.), Matthew V. Lewis (by), Hugh Laurie (perf.). House, Fox Network, 22 Apr. 2009. “Inside-Out.” Gina Lamar (dir.), Anthony Zuiker (by), David Caruso (perf.). CSI: Miami, CBS Network, 8 Oct. 2007. Krentz, Christopher. Writing Deafness: The Hearing Line in Nineteenth-Century American Literature. Chapel Hill: UNC P, 2007. Ladd, Paddy. Understanding Deaf Culture: In Search of Deafhood. Clevedon, UK: Multilingual Matters Limited, 2002. Lane, Harlan. A Journey Into the Deaf-World. San Diego: DawnSignPress, 1996. “NAD Position Statement on the Cochlear Implant.” National Association of the Deaf. 6 Oct. 2000. 29 April 2010 ‹http://www.nad.org/issues/technology/assistive-listening/cochlear-implants›. Nussbaum, Debra. “Manufacturer Information.” Cochlear Implant Information Center. National Deaf Education Center. Gallaudet University. 29 Apr. 2010 < http://clerccenter.gallaudet.edu >. Shaw, Debra. Technoculture: The Key Concepts. Oxford: Berg, 2008. “Silent Night.” Rob Bailey (dir.), Anthony Zuiker (by), Gary Sinise (perf.). CSI: New York, CBS Network, 13 Dec. 2006. “Sweet Nothing in My Ear.” Joseph Sargent (dir.), Stephen Sachs (by), Jeff Daniels (perf.). Hallmark Hall of Fame Production, 20 Apr. 2008. TWIZ TV scripts. CSI: Miami, “Inside-Out.” “What Is the Surgery Like?” FAQ, University of Miami Cochlear Implant Center. 29 Apr. 2010 ‹http://cochlearimplants.med.miami.edu/faq/index.asp›.

She leant lazily across the picnic hamper and reached for my hearing aid in my open-palmed hand. I jerked away from her, batting her hand away from mine. The glare of the summer sun blinded me. I struck empty air. Her tendril-fingers seized the beige seashell curve of my hearing aid and she lifted the cargo of sound towards her eyes. She peered at the empty battery-cage before flicking it open and shut as if it was a cigarette lighter, as if she could spark hearing-life into this trick of plastic and metal that held no meaning outside of my ear. I stared at her. A band of horror tightened around my throat, strangling my shout: ‘Don’t do that!’ I clenched my fist around the new battery that I had been about to insert into my hearing aid and imagined it speeding like a bullet towards her heart. This dream arrived as I researched my anthology of memoir-style essays on deafness, The Art of Being. I had already been reflecting and writing for several years about my relationship with my deaf-self and the impact of my deafness on my life, but I remained uneasy about writing about my deaf-life. I’ve lived all my adult life entirely in the hearing world, and so recasting myself as a deaf woman with something pressing to say about deaf people’s lives felt disturbing. The urgency to tell my story and my anxiety to contest certain assumptions about deafness were real, but I was hampered by diffidence. The dream felt potent, as if my deaf-self was asserting itself, challenging my hearing persona. I was the sole deaf child in a family of five muddling along in a weatherboard war commission house at The Grange in Brisbane during the nineteen fifties and nineteen sixties. My father’s resume included being in the army during World War Two, an official for the boxing events at the 1956 Melbourne Olympic Games and a bookie with a gift for telling stories. My mother had spent her childhood on a cherry orchard in Young, worked as a nurse in war-time Sydney and married my father in Townsville after a whirlwind romance on Magnetic Island before setting up home in Brisbane. My older sister wore her dark hair in thick Annie-Oakley style plaits and my brother took me on a hike along the Kedron Brook one summer morning before lunchtime. My parents did not know of any deaf relatives in their families, and my sister and brother did not have any friends with deaf siblings. There was just me, the little deaf girl. Most children are curious about where they come from. Such curiosity marks their first foray into sexual development and sense of identity. I don’t remember expressing such curiosity. Instead, I was diverted by my mother’s story of her discovery that I was deaf. The way my mother tells the story, it is as if I had two births with the date of the diagnosis of my deafness marking my real arrival, over-riding the false start of my physical birth three years earlier. Once my mother realized that I was deaf, she was able to get on with it, the ‘it’ being to defy the inevitability of a constrained life for her deaf child. My mother came out swinging; by hook or by crook, her deaf daughter was going to learn to speak and to be educated and to take her place in the hearing world and to live a normal life and that was that. She found out about the Commonwealth Acoustics Laboratory (now known as Australian Hearing Services) where, after I completed a battery of auditory tests, I was fitted with a hearing aid. This was a small metal box, to be worn in a harness around my body, with a long looping plastic cord connected to a beige ear-mould. An instrument for piercing silence, it absorbed and conveyed sounds, with those sounds eventually separating themselves out into patterns of words and finally into strings of sentences. Without my hearing aid, if I am concentrating, and if the sounds are made loudly, I am aware of the sounds at the deeper end of the scale. Sometimes, it’s not so much that I can hear them; it’s more that I know that those sounds are happening. My aural memory of the deep-register sounds helps me to “hear” them, much like the recollection of any tune replays itself in your imagination. With and without my hearing aids, if I am not watching the source of those sounds – for example, if the sounds are taking place in another room or even just behind me – I am not immediately able to distinguish whether the sounds are conversational or musical or happy or angry. I can only discriminate once I’ve established the rhythm of the sounds; if the rhythm is at a tearing, jagged pace with an exaggerated rise and fall in the volume, I might reasonably assume that angry words are being had. I cannot hear high-pitched sounds at all, with and without my hearing aids: I cannot hear sibilants, the “cees” and “esses” and “zeds”. I cannot hear those sounds which bounce or puff off from your lips, such as the letters “b” and “p”; I cannot hear that sound which trampolines from the press of your tongue against the back of your front teeth, the letter “t”. With a hearing-aid I can hear and discriminate among the braying, hee-hawing, lilting, oohing and twanging sounds of the vowels ... but only if I am concentrating, and if I am watching the source of the sounds. Without my hearing aid, I might also hear sharp and sudden sounds like the clap of hands or crash of plates, depending on the volume of the noise. But I cannot hear the ring of the telephone, or the chime of the door bell, or the urgent siren of an ambulance speeding down the street. My hearing aid helps me to hear some of these sounds. I was a pupil in an oral-deaf education program for five years until the end of 1962. During those years, I was variously coaxed, dragooned and persuaded into the world of hearing. I was introduced to a world of bubbles, balloons and fingers placed on lips to learn the shape, taste and feel of sounds, their push and pull of air through tongue and lips. By these mechanics, I gained entry to the portal of spoken, rather than signed, speech. When I was eight years old, my parents moved me from the Gladstone Road School for the Deaf in Dutton Park to All Hallows, an inner-city girls’ school, for the start of Grade Three. I did not know, of course, that I was also leaving my world of deaf friends to begin a new life immersed in the hearing world. I had no way of understanding that this act of transferring me from one school to another was a profound statement of my parents’ hopes for me. They wanted me to have a life in which I would enjoy all the advantages and opportunities routinely available to hearing people. Like so many parents before them, ‘they had to find answers that might not, for all they knew, exist . . . How far would I be able to lead a ‘normal’ life? . . . How would I earn a living? You can imagine what forebodings weighed on them. They could not know that things might work out better than they feared’ (Wright, 22). Now, forty-four years later, I have been reflecting on the impact of that long-ago decision made on my behalf by my parents. They made the right decision for me. The quality of my life reflects the rightness of their decision. I have enjoyed a satisfying career in social work and public policy embedded in a life of love and friendships. This does not mean that I believe that my parents’ decision to remove me from one world to another would necessarily be the right decision for another deaf child. I am not a zealot for the cause of oralism despite its obvious benefits. I am, however, stirred by the Gemini-like duality within me, the deaf girl who is twin to the hearing persona I show to the world, to tell my story of deafness as precisely as I can. Before I can do this, I have to find that story because it is not as apparent to me as might be expected. In an early published memoir-essay about my deaf girlhood, I Hear with My Eyes (in Schulz), I wrote about my mother’s persistence in making sure that I learnt to speak rather than sign, the assumed communication strategy for most deaf people back in the 1950s. I crafted a selection of anecdotes, ranging in tone, I hoped, from sad to tender to laugh-out-loud funny. I speculated on the meaning of certain incidents in defining who I am and the successes I have enjoyed as a deaf woman in a hearing world. When I wrote this essay, I searched for what I wanted to say. I thought, by the end of it, that I’d said everything that I wanted to say. I was ready to move on, to write about other things. However, I was delayed by readers’ responses to that essay and to subsequent public speaking engagements. Some people who read my essay told me that they liked its fresh, direct approach. Others said that they were moved by it. Friends were curious and fascinated to get the inside story of my life as a deaf person as it has not been a topic of conversation or inquiry among us. They felt that they’d learnt something about what it means to be deaf. Many responses to my essay and public presentations had relief and surprise as their emotional core. Parents have cried on hearing me talk about the fullness of my life and seem to regard me as having given them permission to hope for their own deaf children. Educators have invited me to speak at parent education evenings because ‘to have an adult who has a hearing impairment and who has developed great spoken language and is able to communicate in the community at large – that would be a great encouragement and inspiration for our families’ (Email, April 2007). I became uncomfortable about these responses because I was not sure that I had been as honest or direct as I could have been. What lessons on being deaf have people absorbed by reading my essay and listening to my presentations? I did not set out to be duplicitous, but I may have embraced the writer’s aim for the neatly curved narrative arc at the cost of the flinty self-regarding eye and the uncertain conclusion. * * * Let me start again. I was born deaf at a time, in the mid 1950s, when people still spoke of the ‘deaf-mute’ or the ‘deaf and dumb.’ I belonged to a category of children who attracted the gaze of the curious, the kind, and the cruel with mixed results. We were bombarded with questions we could either not hear and so could not answer, or that made us feel we were objects for exploration. We were the patronized beneficiaries of charitable picnics organized for ‘the disadvantaged and the handicapped.’ Occasionally, we were the subject of taunts, with words such as ‘spastic’ being speared towards us as if to be called such a name was a bad thing. I glossed over this muddled social response to deafness in my published essay. I cannot claim innocence as my defence. I knew I was glossing over it but I thought this was right and proper: after all, why stir up jagged memories? Aren’t some things better left unexpressed? Besides, keep the conversation nice, I thought. The nature of readers’ responses to my essay provoked me into a deeper exploration of deafness. I was shocked by the intensity of so many parents’ grief and anxiety about their children’s deafness, and frustrated by the notion that I am an inspiration because I am deaf but oral. I wondered what this implied about my childhood deaf friends who may not speak orally as well as I do, but who nevertheless enjoy fulfilling lives. I was stunned by the admission of a mother of a five year old deaf son who, despite not being able to speak, has not been taught how to Sign. She said, ‘Now that I’ve met you, I’m not so frightened of deaf people anymore.’ My shock may strike the average hearing person as naïve, but I was unnerved that so many parents of children newly diagnosed with deafness were grasping my words with the relief of people who have long ago lost hope in the possibilities for their deaf sons and daughters. My shock is not directed at these parents but at some unnameable ‘thing out there.’ What is going on out there in the big world that, 52 years after my mother experienced her own grief, bewilderment, anxiety and quest to forge a good life for her little deaf daughter, contemporary parents are still experiencing those very same fears and asking the same questions? Why do parents still receive the news of their child’s deafness as a death sentence of sorts, the death of hope and prospects for their child, when the facts show – based on my own life experiences and observations of my deaf school friends’ lives – that far from being a death sentence, the diagnosis of deafness simply propels a child into a different life, not a lesser life? Evidently, a different sort of silence has been created over the years; not the silence of hearing loss but the silence of lost stories, invisible stories, unspoken stories. I have contributed to that silence. For as long as I can remember, and certainly for all of my adult life, I have been careful to avoid being identified as ‘a deaf person.’ Although much of my career was taken up with considering the equity dilemmas of people with a disability, I had never assumed the mantle of advocacy for deaf people or deaf rights. Some of my early silence about deaf identity politics was consistent with my desire not to shine the torch on myself in this way. I did not want to draw attention to myself by what I did not have, that is, less hearing than other people. I thought that if I lived my life as fully as possible in the hearing world and with as little fuss as possible, then my success in blending in would be eloquence enough. If I was going to attract attention, I wanted it to be on the basis of merit, on what I achieved. Others would draw the conclusions that needed to be drawn, that is, that deaf people can take their place fully in the hearing world. I also accepted that if I was to be fully ‘successful’ – and I didn’t investigate the meaning of that word for many years – in the hearing world, then I ought to isolate myself from my deaf friends and from the deaf culture. I continued to miss them, particularly one childhood friend, but I was resolute. I never seriously explored the possibility of straddling both worlds, despite the occasional invitation to do so. For example, one of my childhood deaf friends, Damien, visited me at my parents’ home once, when we were both still in our teens. He was keen for me to join him in the Deaf Theatre, but I couldn’t muster the emotional dexterity that I felt this required. Instead, I let myself to be content to hear news of my childhood deaf friends through the grape-vine. This was, inevitably, a patchy process that lent itself to caricature. Single snippets of information about this person or that person ballooned into portrait-size depictions of their lives as I sketched the remaining blanks of their history with my imagination as my only tool. My capacity to be content with my imagination faltered. * * * Despite the construction of public images of deafness around the highly visible performance of hand-signed communication, the ‘how-small-can-we-go?’ advertorials of hearing aids and the cochlear implant with its head-worn speech processor, deafness is often described as ‘the invisible disability.’ My own experience bore this out. I became increasingly self-conscious about the singularity of my particular success, moderate in the big scheme of things though that may be. I looked around me and wondered ‘Why don’t I bump into more deaf people during the course of my daily life?’ After all, I am not a recluse. I have broad interests. I have travelled a lot, and have enjoyed a policy career for some thirty years, spanning the three tiers of government and scaling the competitive ladder with a reasonable degree of nimbleness. Such a career has got me out and about quite a bit: up and down the Queensland coast and out west, down to Sydney, Melbourne, Canberra, Adelaide and Hobart, and to the United Kingdom. And yet, not once in those thirty years did I get to share an office or a chance meeting or a lunch break with another deaf person. The one exception took place in the United Kingdom when I attended a national conference in which the keynote speaker was the Chairman of the Audit Commission, a man whose charisma outshines his profound deafness. After my return to Australia from the United Kingdom, a newspaper article about an education centre for deaf children in a leafy suburb of Brisbane, prompted me into action. I decided to investigate what was going on in the world of education for deaf children and so, one warm morning in 2006, I found myself waiting in the foyer for the centre’s clinical director. I flicked through a bundle of brochures and newsletters. They were loaded with images of smiling children wearing cochlear implants. Their message was clear: a cochlear implant brought joy, communication and participation in all that the world has to offer. This seemed an easy miracle. I had arrived with an open mind but now found myself feeling unexpectedly tense, as if I was about to walk a high-wire without the benefit of a safety net. Not knowing the reason for my fear, I swallowed it and smiled at the director in greeting upon her arrival. She is physically a small person but her energy is large. Her passion is bracing. That morning, she was quick to assert the power of cochlear implants by simply asking me, ‘Have you ever considered having an implant?’ When I shook my head, she looked at me appraisingly, ‘I’m sure you’d benefit from it’ before ushering me into a room shining with sun-dappled colour and crowded with a mess of little boys and girls. The children were arrayed in a democracy of shorts, shirts, and sandals. Only the occasional hair-ribbon or newly pressed skirt separated this girl from that boy. Some young mothers and fathers, their faces stretched with tension, stood or sat around the room’s perimeter watching their infant children. The noise in the room was orchestral, rising and falling to a mash of shouts, cries and squeals. A table had been set with several plastic plates in which diced pieces of browning apple, orange slices and melon chunks swam in a pond of juice. Some small children clustered around it, waiting to be served. When they finished their morning fruit, they were rounded up to sit at the front of the room, before a teacher poised with finger-puppets of ducks. I tripped over a red plastic chair – its tiny size designed to accommodate an infant’s bottom and small-sausage legs – and lowered myself onto it to take in the events going on around me. The little boys and girls laughed merrily as they watched their teacher narrate the story of a mother duck and her five baby ducks. Her hands moved in a flurry of duck-billed mimicry. ‘“Quack! Quack! Quack!” said the mother duck!’ The parents trilled along in time with the teacher. As I watched the children at the education centre that sunny morning, I saw that my silence had acted as a brake of sorts. I had, for too long, buried the chance to understand better the complex lives of deaf people as we negotiate the claims and demands of the hearing world. While it is true that actions speak louder than words, the occasional spoken and written word must surely help things along a little. I also began to reflect on the apparent absence of the inter-generational transfer of wisdom and insights born of experience rather than academic studies. Why does each new generation of parents approach the diagnosis of their newborn child’s disability or deafness with such intensity of fear, helplessness and dread for their child’s fate? I am not querying the inevitability of parents experiencing disappointment and shock at receiving unexpected news. I accept that to be born deaf means to be born with less than perfect hearing. All the same, it ought not to be inevitable that parents endure sustained grief about their child’s prospects. They ought to be illuminated as quickly as possible about all that is possible for their child. In particular, they ought to be encouraged to enjoy great hopes for their child. I mused about the power of story-telling to influence attitudes. G. Thomas Couser claims that ‘life writing can play a significant role in changing public attitudes about deafness’ (221) but then proceeds to cast doubt on his own assertion by later asking, ‘to what degree and how do the extant narratives of deafness rewrite the discourse of disability? Indeed, to what degree and how do they manage to represent the experience of deafness at all?’ (225). Certainly, stories from the Deaf community do not speak for me as my life has not been shaped by the framing of deafness as a separate linguistic and cultural entity. Nor am I drawn to the militancy of identity politics that uses terms such as ‘oppression’ and ‘oppressors’ to deride the efforts of parents and educators to teach deaf children to speak (Lane; Padden and Humphries). This seems to be unhelpfully hostile and assumes that deafness is the sole arbitrating reason that deaf people struggle with understanding who they are. It is the nature of being human to struggle with who we are. Whether we are deaf, migrants, black, gay, mentally ill – or none of these things – we are all answerable to the questions: ‘who am I and what is my place in the world?’ As I cast around for stories of deafness and deaf people with which I could relate, I pondered on the relative infrequency of deaf characters in literature, and the scarcity of autobiographies by deaf writers or biographies of deaf people by either deaf or hearing people. I also wondered whether written stories of deafness, memoirs and fiction, shape public perceptions or do they simply respond to existing public perceptions of deafness? As Susan DeGaia, a deaf academic at California State University writes, ‘Analysing the way stories are told can show us a lot about who is most powerful, most heard, whose perspective matters most to society. I think if we polled deaf/Deaf people, we would find many things missing from the stories that are told about them’ (DeGaia). Fighting my diffidence in staking out my persona as a ‘deaf woman’ and mustering the ‘conviction as to the importance of what [I have] to say, [my] right to say it’ (Olsen 27), I decided to write The Art of Being Deaf, an anthology of personal essays in the manner of reflective memoirs on deafness drawing on my own life experiences and supported by additional research. This presented me with a narrative dilemma because my deafness is just one of several life-events by which I understand myself. I wanted to find fresh ways of telling stories of deaf experiences while fashioning my memoir essays to show the texture of my life in all its variousness. A.N.Wilson’s observation about the precarious insensitivity of biographical writing was my guiding pole-star: the sense of our own identity is fluid and tolerant, whereas our sense of the identity of others is always more fixed and quite often edges towards caricature. We know within ourselves that we can be twenty different persons in a single day and that the attempt to explain our personality is doomed to become a falsehood after only a few words ... . And yet ... works of literature, novels and biographies depend for their aesthetic success precisely on this insensitive ability to simplify, to describe, to draw lines around another person and say, ‘This is she’ or ‘This is he.’ I have chosen to explore my relationship with my deafness through the multiple-threads of writing several personal essays as my story-telling vehicle rather than as a single-thread autobiography. The multiple-thread approach to telling my stories also sought to avoid the pitfalls of identity narrative in which I might unwittingly set myself up as an exemplar of one sort or another, be it as a ‘successful deaf person’ or as an ‘angry militant deaf activist’ or as ‘a deaf individual in denial attempting to pass as hearing.’ But in seeking to avoid these sorts of stories, what autobiographical story am I trying to tell? Because, other than being deaf, my life is not otherwise especially unusual. It is pitted here with sadness and lifted there with joy, but it is mostly a plateau held stable by the grist of daily life. Christopher Jon Heuer recognises this dilemma when he writes, ‘neither autobiography nor biography nor fiction can survive without discord. Without it, we are left with boredom. Without it, what we have is the lack of a point, a theme and a plot’ (Heuer 196). By writing The Art of Being Deaf, I am learning more than I have to teach. In the absence of deaf friends or mentors, and in the climate of my own reluctance to discuss my concerns with hearing people who, when I do flag any anxieties about issues arising from my deafness tend to be hearty and upbeat in their responses, I have had to work things out for myself. In hindsight, I suspect that I have simply ignored most of my deafness-related difficulties, leaving the heavy lifting work to my parents, teachers, and friends – ‘for it is the non-deaf who absorb a large part of the disability’ (Wright, 5) – and just got on with things by complying with what was expected of me, usually to good practical effect but at the cost of enriching my understanding of myself and possibly at the cost of intimacy. Reading deaf fiction and memoirs during the course of this writing project is proving to be helpful for me. I enjoy the companionability of it, but not until I got over my fright at seeing so many documented versions of deaf experiences, and it was a fright. For a while there, it was like walking through the Hall of Mirrors in Luna Park. Did I really look like that? Or no, perhaps I was like that? But no, here’s another turn, another mirror, another face. Spinning, twisting, turning. It was only when I stopped searching for the right mirror, the single defining portrait, that I began to enjoy seeing my deaf-self/hearing-persona experiences reflected in, or challenged by, what I read. Other deaf writers’ recollections are stirring into fresh life my own buried memories, prompting me to re-imagine them so that I can examine my responses to those experiences more contemplatively and less reactively than I might have done originally. We can learn about the diversity of deaf experiences and the nuances of deaf identity that rise above the stock symbolic scripts by reading authentic, well-crafted stories by memoirists and novelists. Whether they are hearing or deaf writers, by providing different perspectives on deafness, they have something useful to say, demonstrate and illustrate about deafness and deaf people. I imagine the possibility of my book, The Art of Being Deaf, providing a similar mentoring role to other deaf people and families.References Couser, G. Thomas. Recovering Bodies: Illness, Disablity, and Life Writing. Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin Press, 1997. Heuer, Christopher Jon. ‘Deafness as Conflict and Conflict Component.’ Sign Language Studies 7.2 (Winter 2007): 195-199. Lane, Harlan. When the Mind Hears: A History of the Deaf. New York: Random House, 1984 Olsen, Tillie. Silences. New York: Delta/Seymour Lawrence. 1978. Padden, Carol, and Tom Humphries. Deaf in America: Voices from a Culture. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1998. Schulz, J. (ed). A Revealed Life. Sydney: ABC Books and Griffith Review. 2007 Wilson, A.N. Incline Our Hearts. London: Penguin Books. 1988. Wright, David. Deafness: An Autobiography. New York: Stein and Day, 1969.