There are a lot more press briefings featuring sign language. Many appear to be more animated than I ever recall or at least ever noticed. It’s enticing. Maybe it’s being locked in a house for almost a year during a pandemic, but it gets my juices flowing.
I saw a signer for a political candidate where she was motioning her arms back and forth in a way that suggested “Go girl, it’s your birthday, get your game on”. It was a “slap that ass” gesture but the ass was a foot or so higher than where you would expect it to be. Or maybe it was someone tall like Jane Lynch.
I watched another discussion on the BBC where a guy, to the best of my estimation, was signing with a British accent. It wasn’t just that he was wearing one of those perfect, slim fitting European suits with a well-coiffed mane of hair, as if he took all the grooming tips from the past edition of GQ. It was in his lack of facial expressions, except for his one eyebrow. It would raise when he was trying to accentuate something, his lips still pursed together as if judging. If that’s not British, then I don’t know what is.
His signing was largely confined to his hands and fingers, keeping things close to the vest. We get it, Nigel, just the facts, no emotion. Well, I’m American dammit! Our signers like emotion and let the speakers worry about the facts. (As an aside, I wonder if American signers think that things always sound smarter when a British signer says it, the way it does when spoken.)
I was once at a Dave Matthews concert and there was a signer throughout the whole event. At first, I thought “that’s weird” but then realized anyone who was hard of hearing was at an advantage because, unlike the rest of us, they could distinguish what he was actually saying! As great as the signer was, she did not even come close to the level of passion that I have seen at some coronavirus or 2020 election news conferences. It was a Dave Matthews Band concert, after all, so the signer was probably stoned, too. But still. You get my point.
During one recent press conference, a woman in a business suit with long black hair was signing in a way that inferred “You dirty little prick, I can’t stand the sight of you.” Interpreter by day, dominatrix by night? I sat through the entire press conference, mesmerized, and a bit horny.
In another one, a mid 40-ish interpreter was signing during a Covid-19 update with a facial expression so terrifying that it could only be interpreted as “Grab your children, collect all your things and get the hell out of town before it’s too late!” They were just telling us to wear a mask, but my blood pressure was through the roof. It was more invigorating than a heavyweight fight, except I felt like the one in danger.
I have seen looks of terror and fright coming from signers that, taken out of context, would make one think they are from those photos taken in haunted houses during Halloween without people knowing it. Mouths agape, pupils dilated, shoulders bent in one direction as if turning to run in a last-minute attempt to escape death. Take a screenshot of any one of these signing moments and send it to a friend with no explanation. I promise you they’ll respond back with something akin to “Holy shit! Did someone just get murdered?”
The signer should be the one at the podium giving the press conference and the speaking person should be the one off to the side, not the way it is now. I’d be fine with subtitles. Who needs another talking head to tell us the same thing repeatedly or refuse to answer questions? Just have the signer do it. It’s a much more interesting way to tell us to get lost.
I want a signer for everything. How many work meetings or parent-teacher conferences or boring Town Hall sessions do we spend our time pretending to listen and willing ourselves to look interested? You wouldn’t have to fake it with a signer.
I would love my own personal signer, too. I need Angela Basset or Bruce Willis. They would be totally in sync with me, not just operationally but mentally, like in a spiritual 6th sense sort of way. They could tell from how I said something, not just what I said, where I was headed. “I got you”, their smirk and eye inflections would always assure me.
My mouth would say “Yeah, that’s an interesting idea, Toby. It seems a bit out of scope but maybe if we have some further details, there could be something there.” Meanwhile, Angela or Bruce would be signing “Nice try, Toby. How about you wait a full month since you graduated from your fancy MBA program before speaking like you’re running this place?” Their hands and expressions would tell Toby what he really needed to hear.
To hell with the raise or the “good job” email. You want to keep me motivated and working hard? Get me my signing Angela or Bruce. Stat. I’ll even settle for Idris Alba. And he’s British.
Image by Abigail Curtis/Bangor Daily News
