The Onion Project: Week 1 ~ Visibility

Week 1 The Surface Layer: Visibility

The surface is where most people begin. It’s where curiosity first meets awareness. You notice what’s easiest to see: someone signing across a room, someone reading captions at the bottom of a screen, someone using their eyes, hands, and expressions to navigate a conversation. That first impression matters, it’s an entry point, a doorway into a different way of being. But like the paper-thin skin of an onion, it’s only the beginning. It is fragile, translucent, and easily misunderstood.

Visibility can be a powerful force. For generations, Deaf people were rendered invisible: hidden behind closed classrooms, misrepresented in films, or excluded from public conversations. Seeing Deaf people on stage, on television, or leading classrooms today represents real progress. Each interpreter on screen, each captioned video, each signed conversation in public space quietly announces: We exist. We belong here.

Yet, visibility can also flatten. When representation remains at the surface, it risks turning Deaf lives into symbols rather than stories. A person might see a Deaf actor and think, “How inspiring!” or watch someone sign and assume they understand the full picture. The world often stops at the outer layer, mistaking what it can see for all there is to know. The surface becomes a mirror that reflects comfortingly simple narratives:

“Deaf people read lips.”“Deaf people use hearing aids.”“Deaf people are inspirational.”

But these statements are thin skin. They may look smooth and certain, yet they peel away quickly, revealing far more complex truths underneath. ASL or Auslan, or any signed language is not merely a system of “hand movements.” It’s a living language, complete with its own grammar, rhythm, idioms, and poetry. It carries culture within it, shaped by shared history and collective memory. Deaf identity is not defined by devices or diagnosis; it is defined by belonging, by community, by language and lived experience. And being Deaf is not about evoking admiration, it is about living fully, proudly, and authentically.

For those who live at the intersections, Deaf people who are also autistic, ADHD, or otherwise neurodivergent visibility can be a double-edged sword. Sometimes others see the Deafness but miss the rest of the picture. They might interpret slower processing or direct communication as rudeness, or mistake sensory needs for emotional distance. Other times, people focus on neurodivergence and overlook the cultural and linguistic richness of Deaf identity. The surface can be misleading, and assumptions multiply when multiple layers of identity overlap. True understanding requires patience, attention, and a willingness to look beneath what is visible.

Visibility, then, is both a gift and a challenge. It invites recognition but also demands responsibility. It asks those on the outside to keep looking, to listen with their eyes and hearts, not just their assumptions. Visibility is the beginning, not the conclusion. It opens the door but stepping through that door requires humility, curiosity, and a readiness to see complexity rather than caricature.

To be visible is to risk being misseen. But invisibility carries its own cost, the loss of acknowledgment, the weight of erasure. The Deaf community continually navigates that delicate balance: claiming visibility on its own terms while resisting simplification. Deaf artists, leaders, and everyday signers shape their narratives not to perform for hearing comfort, but to affirm presence, to say, “We are here, and we are more than what you think you see.”

As learners and allies, we too must practice seeing differently. When you watch a conversation in sign language, notice not just the hands but the eyes, the rhythm, the expressions, the pauses, the music of silence. When you encounter an interpreter, remember that they are bridges, not voices, carrying meaning between worlds. When you read captions, imagine the person whose words they represent, the human being behind the text. Each of these moments is an opportunity to move beyond the surface and glimpse the depth of human communication.

The skin of the onion, after all, protects what lies beneath. It is delicate, yes, but it is also essential. It shields the inner layers until the moment they are ready to be revealed. In the same way, visibility offers protection and introduction. It gives us a place to begin. But our goal, as we continue this exploration, is not to remain at the skin. It is to keep peeling, gently, intentionally until we reach understanding that goes deeper than sight alone.

Visibility opens the conversation. It is the invitation. But true connection comes when we keep going, when we reach for what lies beneath the surface where the real stories, the shared humanity, and the soul of Deaf experience begin to shine.

Next week, we’ll move one layer deeper: access, the bridges between visibility and true inclusion.

~ A. Bret Cummens, M.Ed.