Fleeing the island by bike.

Passengers of the 7pm Wednesday sailing from Swartz Bay to Tsawwassen were treated to a spectacle. People rose from their seats and flocked to the front of the boat. I happened to be seated at the front, so I took the cue and got up for a better look. It was a beautiful sight, the sun was shining, and the boat was squeezing in-between the Southern Gulf Islands. A lone crew member was on the deck, resting his arms on the railing, but I was fairly sure he wasn’t meant to be the spectacle.

Some of the passengers migrated to the starboard windows while others returned to their seats. Curious about what had just happened, I tapped a message on my phone and showed it to the woman seated across from me, “I am deaf, I have noooooo idea what just happened.”

Continue reading “Fleeing the island by bike.”

Experiencing street harassment as a deaf woman.

Since entering my 30s, I’ve learned how to receive compliments. I have also learned that compliments are often used by men as bait to get women talking to them. For some, paying a compliment entitles them to a woman’s attention.

A plus of being deaf (as deaf as I am, anyway) is being blissfully ignorant of any catcalls that are sounded my way. For these volunteering their opinions about me out loud, not getting any reaction out of me must be maddening. It’s glorious.

On occasion, some bozo tries to override my inability to hear by following me.

I’ve been in Victoria for five months, and it’s already happened three times. Most recently, I was sitting on a bench scrolling through social media, getting annoyed with people on the internet, when I noticed a shadow cast over me.

Continue reading “Experiencing street harassment as a deaf woman.”

Stealthy, like a fat cat.

After being reunited with my phone after it spent the night in a Park Tool caliper case at work, I slipped it in my jersey pocket and prepared my bike for a long ride. Monday was a civic holiday: BC day. It was fitting that I had the day off while Yann, a Québecois, had to work.

It was going to be a warm day, so before leaving, I made sure to freshen the cats’ water dish. I waved goodbye to Bubble who was tucked into a cat loaf on the couch. Enfoiré, our round son, was neither on the couch nor in the cat tree. I checked the bed: not there. On the fridge with his front paws hanging over the freezer door? Nope. Had he slipped into the washroom without me noticing and was now gnawing on the plastic shower curtain? No.

In under 24 hours, I had lost my phone AND eighteen-pound cat!

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Forgetting to remember.

“That guy looked like Jeff Spicoli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High,” I remarked about a customer who had just left the bike shop.

Yann shook his head, “I don’t remember that movie.”

“You watched it with me! As soon as I show you a photo you’re going to be like, ‘Oh! Oh! I ‘member.'”

How convenient is it to have a smartphone on hand to jog somebody’s shitty memory? Except for when your garbage short-term memory causes you to forget where you put your phone.

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So that’s what that was all about.

A tattooed woman with platinum braids pulled to one side greets the camera with one hand up. She is wearing angular orange cat eye frames, a black necklace and tank top.
 I have some bullshit to share.

Yesterday I posted a series of signed Stories on Instagram. I did this for two reasons: to give hearing people a taste of what it’s like to be singled out.

Mostly, I did it because, given the context, it was more appropriate to explain in sign language.

Since moving back to BC, I had been putting off getting on the waitlist for a family doctor knowing the outcome was likely to be upsetting.

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Dark matter.

White woman wearing a black hoodie with the hood up emerges from an opening inside a cave. She is wear a head lamp and is carrying her sunglasses in her mouth.
Spelunking in style.

In 2008, along with 2 others, I entered one of the larger caves in Horne Lake Caves Provincial Park. Fifteen minutes later, we got spit out in a ditch on the side of the New Jersey Turnpike. I only mention this because Being John Malkovich is my favourite movie and has been since it was released 20 years ago. If you haven’t seen it, I can guarantee that it’ll be more interesting than this post.

But you’re here to read about me, right?

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