The Onion Project: Week 3 ~ Expression and Understanding

Week 3  The Layer of Communication: Expression and Understanding

Peel back another layer, and we arrive at the heart of interaction: how we communicate. At the surface, many people assume that “communication” simply means speaking and listening that it begins with sound and ends with words. But that is only one narrow slice of the vast landscape of human expression. Real communication is richer, broader, and infinitely more nuanced. It lives not just in the voice or the ear, but in the hands, the eyes, the face, the rhythm of movement, and the timing between thoughts.

For Deaf people, for autistic people, for those with ADHD, communication is not merely about the words exchanged; it is about the entire shape of the conversation, the pacing, the pauses, the visual cues, and the shared space between minds. Every person, every community, crafts its own rhythm of connection. When we recognize these rhythms, we begin to see that communication is not a single road but an entire landscape of possible paths.

In Deaf culture, directness is deeply valued. Saying what you mean clearly is considered respectful, a sign of honesty and care. It reduces confusion and invites genuine dialogue. Similarly, for many autistic and ADHD individuals, straightforward communication feels natural and authentic. Yet in hearing or neurotypical spaces, this same clarity is often mistaken for bluntness or lack of tact. Misunderstanding grows not from intention, but from mismatched styles. One person’s respect becomes another’s discomfort. One language of sincerity is mistaken for rudeness simply because it speaks with a different rhythm.

Processing time is another place where communication can be misread. A Deaf person watching an interpreter, shifting between captions, or observing a speaker may need a pause to collect meaning, not because they are lost, but because they are working across multiple streams of information. Likewise, an autistic or ADHD communicator may pause because their brain is sorting, filtering, or translating sensory data into clear thought. These moments of quiet are not emptiness; they are full of invisible work. Yet too often, silence is interpreted as uncertainty, distraction, or inability. We forget that thinking itself takes time and that silence can be one of the most powerful forms of communication.

Even eye gaze tells its own story. In Deaf culture, eye contact is the heartbeat of conversation. It anchors attention, signals respect, and ensures connection. To look away while someone is signing is to risk missing the meaning entirely. For many autistic people, however, direct eye contact can feel uncomfortable or intrusive. Their focus may rest elsewhere: on hands, lips, or subtle movements as their mind listens in its own way. For people with ADHD, gaze may dart rapidly, catching multiple cues at once. None of these patterns mean disinterest or disrespect. They are simply different roads to the same destination: understanding.

Each of these examples reminds us that communication is not a single language or method, it is an ecosystem of human experience. To truly understand another person, we must learn to read their rhythm, their way of showing meaning, their personal syntax of connection. When we expand our idea of communication beyond “speaking and listening,” we discover that Deaf and neurodivergent communication styles are not broken or deficient; they are simply different languages of being human.

There is a quiet beauty in this realization. It asks us to slow down, to let go of the expectation that everyone should communicate in the same way. It challenges the notion that one mode of expression, the spoken word is the “default.” In truth, every person translates the world differently. Some through sound, others through movement, others through images or patterns or emotion. Communication, in its fullest sense, is not about perfection. It is about patience, curiosity, and the willingness to meet another person where they are.

When we reach this layer of the onion, we start to see that communication is not merely an exchange of information, it is an exchange of presence. It is where empathy lives. When a Deaf signer tells a story through their hands, when an autistic person scripts a moment of connection, when an ADHD communicator shares an idea through bursts of energy, these are all forms of humanity reaching out toward one another. They remind us that connection is not about uniformity, but about recognition.

This layer teaches us that understanding another’s communication is an act of respect. It is saying, “I see you in your language. I am listening in your rhythm.” It asks us to listen not just with ears, but with eyes, hearts, and open minds.

As we continue to peel back the onion, we move toward the next layer: belonging. Because once we begin to recognize and honor communication differences, the question naturally arises: Where do we fit? Where are we understood? Where do we find home?

~ A. Bret Cummens, M.Ed.