Witness
to Silencing – We remember and work with hope
Several
years ago, I witnessed a silencing of people who were working to learn to
communicate independently by typing with support using methods of Facilitated
Communication (FC) Training. These training methods were developed to
help individuals with limited effective communication to improve their pointing
skills so that they could point to use communication aids and eventually type
independently to communicate.
When
questions about the method of Facilitated Communication Training arose, some
organizations and schools unilaterally and quite abruptly stopped using FC training
methods, rather than consulting with the individuals and families who were
using the method and determining with them how effective this method was for
them. The questions grew from a small number of court cases in which typed
statements were not proven to be true (although in some court cases they were
proven true) and from research studies which indicated that sometimes what
facilitated communicators typed was influenced by their facilitators, although
this was not always the case. When FC training was stopped, many individuals
were left without a way to communicate clearly or even to work to improve their
communication. For those of us who witnessed in horror this silencing,
the effects were and still are deeply troubling. For those who were silenced, we have few
reports on their reactions, as most have had no way to express them. In some cases, families had not learned the
method before it was halted for their family member, so they did not carry on the support to communicate by typing.
These
two poems are dedicated to all the people who were silenced when their access
to communication via facilitated communication training methods was cut off and
to the hope that they will once again someday communicate using a method which
they choose and which works for them. They are not
forgotten.
Freedom Quest
In an echoing silence
a once heard,
now hushed,
struggling, tapping voice
waits.
Active, seeking, once-typing
fingers
retract to fidget, fist and
plot.
No trusted ally closed
the exit ramp from
silence.
Accusers believed
his thoughts
not really.
Not after all those silent
years.
Surely it was an imagining,
A wishful hoping . . .
Like an alien sighting.
Not real . . . not possible .
. .
surely?
Too late to reconsider.
Aspersions cast.
Exit barred.
No wistful rethinking.
Done. Past.
A timid soul back in hiding
'neath layers of the onion
'neath layers of the onion
Deeply burrowed away
from his wishful world
of voice,
Grieving the lost trust,
dashed hopes,
and vanished
escape route from
silence,
Still plots again
His freedom quest
in the echoing company
of loud silent
thoughts.
This poem is dedicated to all the
people who were silenced when their access to communication via facilitated
communication training methods was cut off—for some overnight without warning
and without recourse or appeal. You are not forgotten.
Copyright 2017 Judy C. Bailey
Unforgotten
When the bars of silence closed in again
on the once unspeaking
soul,
Who heard the pleaful gasp
from across the chasmous
divide?
When the tap tapping of
lettered speech
was vanquished,
none could peer into that silent realm
none could peer into that silent realm
where reverberating
thoughts
murmured in captivity—
meandering, drifting,
racing, stumbling,
diverting inward, lost
from their tenuous
tapping route to voiceless
speech.
Sequestered in an instant. No exit.
Sequestered in an instant. No exit.
Bridge of connection
removed.
“Leap across the chasm,”
authorities advised—
an impossible feat—
“Or stay clear and wait”,
came the unwelcome call.
No courage at hand today.
Predictability, that honored creed,
had cautioned pause,
refrain.
Await a future parole to speak,
Await a future parole to speak,
through a sanctioned and
lauded exit--
albeit eons hence in
others' lifetimes—
not in this soul’s
dwindling years.
No, not now. Not on this
watch.
No detours to full scale
expression for this one.
"Yes or no" and
"this or that" will fill
the speechless hopeful’s dance
card.
The fearsome cautionary
verdict,
deemed judicious and safe by
some,
Did leap its bounds
to squelch the tapping rightful
voice.
Thoughts then caught in suspension
Thoughts then caught in suspension
could not appeal, nor engage
the crowd,
Nor span the gap to
freedom
from the engulfing
grasp
of the “silent abyss”.
Champions will arise to tell the story,
So eyes will see and ears
hear
the heartful tale of a longed-for
voice
gained, then lost.
Chattering souls with
yakkety voices will halt
to bear witness and to champion
the racing, stumbling,
meandering efforts
of fingers that edge
tappingly toward
an emboldened lettered voice that
dares
to lead a dance of joyful
conversation.
They will come.
Until then . . .
the unforgotten voice will
wait
and plot to soar once
more.
This poem is dedicated
to all the people who were silenced when their access to communication via
facilitated communication training methods was cut off—for some overnight
without warning and without recourse or appeal. You are not forgotten.
Note: The “silent
abyss” is a term coined and used by the poet Chandima Rajapatirana, in writing
about his journey to communication by typing. It is used here in great respect for his love of language and his ardent advocacy for a voice for all.
Copyright 2017 Judy
C. Bailey