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Islamic Knowledge and the Deaf Community
“They have to know Islam and it is our duty to teach them. After all, how would they know if someone doesn’t teach them,” said Dr. Yahya Alvi, Project Advisor for Global Deaf Muslims, an organization that seeks to spread awareness about the needs of deaf Muslims around the world.
Dr. Alvi teaches a weekly class on the basics of Islamic practice at a local masjid for the deaf Muslim community. Through an interpreter he teaches everything from the concept of the oneness of God to the details of Hadith and Qur’an.
Just a few years ago, Dr. Alvi himself was unaware of the need for teaching Islam to the deaf community. Now, he finds himself a vocal advocate for regular interpreters at Jummah Khutbah’s and Islamic classes.
Many of his students, though adults, entered his class with no knowledge of how to pray or of the basic tenants of Islam. Through they grew up Muslim, Islam was inaccessible to them until classes like the one Dr. Alvi teaches started to become available as awareness in the hearing community began to grow.
“We need to realize that there is a community out there, deaf people, who need our help, we need to go to them and tell them what Islam is all about and if we do not we are responsible for their ignorance and whatever their subsequent actions that come from that ignorance,” he said.
As he’s learned about and connected with the deaf Muslim community, he has realized not only the disadvantages that the deaf face in the Muslim community but the advantages that the hearing Muslim community often take for granted.
“The hearing community must understand that when they go for Jummah, there are people there who see the the man giving the khutbah but they do not know what he said and that is not their fault at all,” said Dr. Alvi.
At the same time, he continued, there are many there who can hear but their mind is elsewhere. They simply chose not to hear.
A physician for 53 years, Dr. Alvi’s love for teaching motivated him to volunteer his time each weekend and provide a service that many in the deaf community have been searching for their entire lives.
This however, does not come without its challenges.
A wide range of students, at different levels in terms of knowledge, age and ability create a unique classroom. On top of that, translating Arabic terms into American Sign Language has also been a challenge.
While Dr. Alvi still grapples at finding the best way to convey the Islam to those in the deaf community he sees it as a responsibility, not simply an opportunity.
“If Allah has given us the faculty of hearing, we need to do some sadaqa of this hearing and take the message of the Qur’an to those who are deaf. How we do that? We have to find out how to do that.”
The greatest challenge perhaps, is the perceptions of the hearing community on the deaf community.
“There’s a belief that if someone gets a deaf child its a punishment,” he said, “This is not a punishment of God, this is a test of God, not just for the parents but for the community.”
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Islamic Knowledge and the Deaf Community
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Mission of Hearing Impaired Youth: Teach Qur’an to the Deaf
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Deaf Parents First Taught Sign Language to Hearing Children
I texted messaged Issatu when I had arrived at her local masjid. She promptly replied. She had been running late and had just arrived with her daughter.
When she walked through the doors she greeted me with a smile. Silent, she turned to her daughter and began moving her hands with graceful purpose. Her daughter, Hauwa turned to me and relayed her “Salaam.” I returned her greeting, the sound of my words translated into silent hand gestures.
Issatu Santuraki was diagnosed as deaf between the ages of two and three.
Now, the college graduate, working professional, mother of two sat before me with confidence and grace.
Issatu never spoke a word directly to me yet she was able to communicate volumes.
Because she is unable to speak or hear, her daughter Hauwa, 14 served as an interpreter.
Issatu’s hands moved at a remarkable speed as her daughter translated them aloud for me.
We communicated with each other through Hauwa. My questions translated to silence, her answers translated to sound.
Growing up deaf was both a challenging yet rewarding experience. Provided with the unique opportunity of going to schools that catered to the deaf community, Issatu was able to excel in academia. She graduated from high school with honors, attended Galleudet University and received a Bachelor of Science in Family and Consumer Studies: Child Development. She also received a Web Design Specialist Career Studies Certificate and graduated Magna Sum Laude.
Her academic success gave her new found confidence in herself and her abilities, and gave her parents a renewed respect for her and others like her.
“[The deaf] can do the same things. We’re the same blood and skin,” Issatu said. Her parents were comforted by that realization. After years of concern, they gained confidence that their little girl could be successful in the hearing world.
However, Issatu wasn’t always so comfortable in her own skin.
Growing up she recalls the struggles she faced connecting to her religion. Jummah prayers were frustrating ordeals for her. With no interpreters available at her local Masjid, she quickly became distant from the experience and ultimately from Islam itself.
“I decided to give up Islam for awhile because I had no choice, who was going to help me?”
Saddened but limited in their ability to teach her and the absence of services in the mosque, her parents took her to a local church that had classes that provided interpreters for the deaf. Issatu learned about Christianity, the Bible and Jesus. She found support, others like her, and the services she needed.
As she recounted this experience, the Athan began over the load speakers. Her daughter signed to her that the call to prayer had started. Issatu lowered her head, intertwined her fingers and placed her hands on the table. Though she could not hear it the way that Hauwa or I could, knowing that it was being called resonated with her and she immediately paid it respect.
When it was over, her daughter signed to her and she began where she left off.
Islam was clearly a part of her life now.
“When I grew up I didn’t know how to pray, I didn’t wear the hijab because no one taught me about it. That’s where the lack of communication the barrier was really a huge problem.”
Issatu began to learn about her religion when she met her husband, who is also deaf, over 16 years ago. She was a student at Galleudet University at the time.
As she waited for the bus, he approached her and asked what time the bus would be arriving. Shy, she said “soon,” expecting to end the conversation there. Instead, he continued to talk to her until the bus came, and on the bus, and then even after they had arrived at their destination.
“Then we got married,” she laughed. They’ve been married for 16 years and have two children.
Issatu’s husband played a big role in teaching her about Islam. Being deaf himself, he was able to communicate what he knew and share it with her. His knowledge was limited, but better than hers. Growing up he was more easily able to communicate with his family through sign language than she was with hers, which ultimately helped him gain a better grasp on the religion.
When Issatu and her husband gave birth to their son and then their daughter a year later, they faced a unique challenge as deaf parents to hearing children.
Issatu chose to teach her children sign language first.
“Sign is the best way because the earlier you learn the easier it is to learn. Babies obviously don’t talk from the beginning either.”
Because she is unable to speak herself, Issatu would have her children speak with her mother over the phone to encourage their speech development.
They learned to speak the way any other child would learn to speak, through school, friends, relatives and by watching television shows, she explained.
I turned to Hauwa, and asked what it was like growing up with two deaf parents.
She paused, then looked over to her mom who was signing something to her and laughed. Her mom laughed as well.
“Oh, my mom is saying that sometimes I do get embarrassed [having a deaf mom and dad].”
Their playful relationship reflected an ease that isn’t always found between mother and teenage daughter. Although they did not speak aloud, there were no words lost between the two of them.
As I spoke with Hauwa she signed my questions and her responses so her mother remained in the conversation.
Although she said she did find it a little bit difficult to share with her friends in middle school, she had become much more open upon entering high school. Now, she simply states it as a fact and moves on.
Though they may seem strikingly different to many in the hearing community, to Hauwa and her older brother, they are simply “Mom” and “Dad,” same as anyone else.
But the children’s unique knowledge of sign language and their ease in communicating as a family, Issatu attributes, to the close relationship she shares with her children.
Growing up Issatu wasn’t able to so easily communicate with her own parents. Her mother learned a little bit of sign language and her father communicated with her mostly through writing. However, there were still barriers.
The importance of a learning sign language for a parent of a deaf child is something Issatu feels can give a deaf child the confidence they need to succeed in the hearing world.
“The children will feel inspired and happy and [the parents and child] will be involved together, more involved in their life and they will be successful together,” she said.
But its not only the parents who need to communicate with their deaf children, but the hearing community in general that need to communicate with the deaf community, she commented.
“A lot of hearing people don’t know much about deaf people...Attitude is most definitely a problem.”
Like others I spoke with, Issatu described the stigmas that she faced when interacting with those in the hearing community. Glazed over looks, avoidance of eye contact, shying away from saying any conversation were all everyday occurrences. In more extreme cases, people would encourage the avoidance of interacting with the deaf members of the community based on antiquated cultural superstitions that deafness was a curse that could be passed on.
Without the support of the hearing community, Issatu fears that many, like she initially was, may shy away from the Muslim community centers and Masjids.
Issatu recalled the first time she could understand a Jummah Khutbah because an interpreter, a hearing individual who knew sign language, was available to the deaf Muslims in the Masjid.
The same experience that once drove her away from the community now inspired her. Simply the access to the knowledge and the experience drew her closer to the religion and the community.
It is that sentiment that motivates her efforts to encourage the hearing community to take steps toward providing services like interpreters at the Masjid and encourage the deaf Muslim community to raise awareness and share their experiences.
“Muslims need to not be afraid of each other but get together so we can understand each other and work together,” she paused, “It’s time to get us together because we are all human beings of course and creations of Allah Subhanahu wa ta’ala.”
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Islamic Knowledge and the Deaf Community
Deaf Parents First Taught Sign Language to Hearing Children
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Mission of Hearing Impaired Youth: Teach Qur’an to the Deaf
“I have been in two different worlds. The deaf world and the hearing world.”
Hamza was playing basketball in the gym of a local masjid when I came to meet him and his father.
His father opened the door and motioned for him to come out. A tall, young gentleman emerged.
“Assalamu Alaikum,” he said, his speech slightly amalgamated. “I’m Hamza.”
Nested in his each ear was a hearing aid. Born almost completely deaf, Hamza uses a strong hearing aid to pick up sounds.
Born in Pakistan, Hamza had no ability to speak until the age of six. His twin brother had started talking around the age of one and a half.
As a child his head was often tilted to one side, his feet only able to carry him a few steps before he’d lose his balance.
His parents knew something wasn’t right when he didn’t respond to their calls.
The first doctor that Hamza’s mother took him assured her that it was a matter of slow development and that he was simply taking longer to develop than other children.
With little else to go on, the Ahmads waited, and hoped for the best.
When they arrived in America and it was time to enroll Hamza’s twin brother in school, little Hamza came along.
A teacher asked why Hamza wasn’t being signed up.
“He doesn’t talk yet,” said Tanweer Ahmed Khan, Hamza’s father.
The teacher recommended that they set up a variety of medical tests for Hamza to determine exactly what the problem was. For a year and a half he underwent a series of tests that finally determined he was unable to hear.
‘My initial reaction was [thinking] this is a challenge. We have a different role as parents now,” said Ahmed Khan.
Ahmed Khan was reminded of an verse in the sixth chapter of the Qur’an that reads: “No burden do We place on any soul, but that which it can bear.”
“That gave me the confidence to work with my child. I felt I was chosen to be blessed with a child like Hamza,” he said.
After his diagnosis, Hamza was fitted with a pair of hearing aids.
For the first time in his life he would be able to hear the world around him and though one may imagine it to be an exciting experience, Hamza recalls it as an incredibly frightening one.
“I was really scared. I got dizzy and nauseated because that was the first time I was hearing. I didn’t know what was going on. I had no idea what the noises or sounds meant to me because its a whole different world for me. I was born with deafness and I didn’t hear anything until I put that hearing aid on. I had no idea where I was or who I was,” he said.
Though he could hear with the aids, he was still unable to speak. He enrolled in school and used American Sign Language (ASL) to communicate in class. His parents took ASL classes to communicate with him but decided to try speaking at home in hopes that Hamza might one day learn how to talk as well.
Hamza said his first word at age 7.
“The first word he spoke was ‘Allah,” said Ahmed Khan. “Both of us [parents] had a tear in our eye.”
The concept of religion was always a priority in the Ahmad household but Hamza’s inability to hear and consequently his limited vocabulary at the time made it difficult for him to understand the intricacies of Islamic practice.
However, even after gaining the ability to hear, Hamza still faced many challenges when it came to understanding speech.
For those who are hard of hearing or deaf, the ability to hear does not equate with the ability to understand speech. Just like those in the hearing world, a vocabulary must be developed in order to understand the words that are being said.
While a hard of hearing or deaf person may know, in his or her mind, or in sign language what a cup is, they do not know what the word “cup” sounds like and therefore, when spoken, the word may have meaning.
Hamza was flooded with new vocabulary and new terms and though he could now hear them, he wasn’t able to fully understand them without extensive practice and effort to develop a vocabulary.
He largely credits his father with his speech development.
Hamza recalled nights when his father would stay awake with him for hours, repeating the same word hundreds of times so he could remember it and its association and learn to pronounce it.
This attention, he said, was critical for his development particularly when it came to his Islamic identity.
“I didn’t have access to learn about Islam outside the home. The home was the only place I could learn about Islam. My parents would sit down and spend time with me for hours and hours and hours to teach me about Islam but if I would go out of home, there would be no other places where I could learn,” said Hamza.
Jummah prayers at the time had no interpreters to help Hamza understand the prayers. Classes at the masjid were inaccessible for the same reason as well.
In 2009, Hamza encountered a booth at a national convention in D.C. The banner above it read Global Deaf Muslims (GDM). This was the first time that he encountered others like him. Though he knew deaf individuals through school, he hadn’t met other deaf Muslims who had the same desire to connect to their religion.
After a few exchanges of e-mails Hamza began volunteering with GDM as an interpreter. Because he was able to hear and had mastered American Sign Language, he was an essential bridge between the two communities.
This new found ability to contribute to the community he once thought he was alone in gave him pause.
“Honestly, I was speechless, I was just shocked. I thought I was the only person who had so much need but when I joined GDM I found out that there was so many people who are actually worse off than me who didn’t have any access at all [to Islamic knowledge] so I was actually just shocked. I actually felt really sad at that moment because I didn’t know that there were that many deaf brothers and sisters out there in the world that need that much help from us. I didn’t know that there were so many deaf brothers and sisters that didn’t know the basic Islamic knowledge,” said Hamza.
Now a freshman in college, Hamza chose to forgo universities like Gallaudet and Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT), that cater to the deaf and hard of hearing community. Though his high school counselor recommended he attend one of those schools, he decided on Virginia Commonwealth University (VCU) to study marketing.
“For me, I like VCU a lot because I feel like being challenged. It makes me more independent. I’m becoming mentally trained. At VCU, I am basically in the hearing world now,” he said, his poise and intelligence punctuated by his enthusiasm.
“I didn’t want hearing people to think that deaf people can only be successful by going to Gallaudet or RIT because a lot [of deaf people] can be successful by going to any university. But the reason why a lot of deaf and hard of hearing people go to Gallaudet or RIT is because they have all the access they need and they need social gatherings. They need deaf and hard of hearing friends so that they can communicate but for me its a different story since Alhumdulilah I can speak at the same time.”
Although Hamza now has the ability to speak rather clearly and has a robust vocabulary, he expressed that he often feels people look down on him and others who struggle to hear, or can’t hear at all because they are considered disabled.
“It’s so dangerous when you label somebody. For example, when you label somebody disabled it automatically changes the hearing person’s mind,” he said. “It’s actually the person with the disability, not a person that has the disability. It doesn’t change anything mentally or physically. It just who they are,” he said.
As I sat with Hamza and his father, one thing was clear. They had been through a unique journey as father and son. First struggling to understand one another and their unique perspectives of the world and then working together to bring that understanding to others.
Ahmad recalls a question Hamza asked when he was fifteen, during their nightly chats before bed.
“That was my turning point to pay attention to [making Islamic knowledge accessible to the deaf community]. [Hamza] said, ‘Baba you always keep telling us that we have a moral responsibility to pass on the Qur’an to people who have not received this book...who would pass this book on to the deaf community?’ That shook my mind. I thought for a minute and I asked him, “Can you take this challenge? Are you ready to take this challenge. I’ll help you out.’ [Hamza] said “Okay, What should I do?” and I told him that we would teach him Qur’an and then he would teach it to them because he is able to speak their language and we cannot speak their language,” said Ahmad.
Hamza responded, “I will do my best.”
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Islamic Knowledge and the Deaf Community
Deaf Parents First Taught Sign Language to Hearing Children
Mission of Hearing Impaired Youth: Teach Qur’an to the Deaf
For Deaf Muslimah, America Offered Access to Success
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For Deaf Muslimah, America Offered Access to Success
“I never knew that I was deaf till I was 6. I figured I was normal as other kids until my mom put me in a deaf institute. I saw a lot of kids using sign language and I was so confused. I was wondering why these kids were doing that. They were so different from me because I wasn’t [aware I was ] deaf as they were [aware]. I just thought that I was hearing as other kids. Then I started learning sign language more often and I realized, oh okay I am deaf, not oral.”
I met Fatima at a coffee shop. We had exchanged a few emails before our meeting and she arranged for an interpreter to join us during our chat.
We took a seat around a little circular coffee shop table. An arrangement I was now used to, I took the seat across from Fatima, her interpreter took the seat next to mine and we settled into what became a very natural and open conversation.
Aside from the occasional laugh after a humorous anecdote, Fatima was silent. Her hands did the talking but her story drowned out the ambient noises of a bustling coffee shop catering to the usual after dinner flock.
I asked her about everything from how she wakes up in the morning without the blaring of an alarm clock to the challenges that the deaf community faces when searching for religions knowledge.
To her, it was all very matter of fact. She was born deaf. She wouldn’t be able to hear me so she arranged for an interpreter. She couldn’t call me to tell me when she arrived, so she texted instead.
To me, I worried about how we would communicate. Would the interpreter be able to convey my questions? Would hers come back through clearly? What can you not ask someone who’s deaf? I did my research but would a potentially dumb question come off as offensive?
“Feel free to ask any questions. There’s no such thing as a dumb question,” Fatima said with a laugh.
Thank goodness, I thought, because I was about to ask about fifteen of them.
Let’s start from the beginning, I said. She leaned forward, raised her hands and began to sign.
When she was diagnosed around the age of three, Fatima’s parents decided to move from Pakistan to America in hopes of providing her more opportunity as a deaf child.
Concerned about the educational system in Pakistan and the way it treated deaf children, they felt the only way to ensure she received the education she deserved was to enroll her in well established deaf institutes in the States.
With an aunt already living in Pittsburgh, the family moved from their native Lahore to Pennsylvania where Fatima began what would turn out to be a very ponderous journey to find a place she fit in.
Between preschool and high school, Fatima attended five different schools. Each a little different from the other. Her parents hoped that each new institute would provide her different skills and strengths to help her better succeed in the hearing world.
Upon graduating from her high school, Fatima was admitted to the Rochester Institute of Technology in 2007. She became heavily involved in the deaf community on campus before graduating with a degree in Marketing in 2011. Now, she works at the Department of Defense.
Finding success both academically and in her career was never a big obstacle for Fatima. Though she was clearly different from those in the hearing community, attending special schools for the deaf allowed her gain knowledge and build confidence in her ability to interact outside of the deaf community on a daily basis.
While she does require interpreter services at work meetings and events, she has only positive things to say about the experience.
Outside of work however, she’s always found it hard to fit in.
“Growing up as a deaf Muslim, wasn’t always positive because I felt left out when I went with my family to a dinner. I was always the one who was left out because no one knew sign language. I was always the one that was sad and clueless because I didn’t know what was going one because I was just born that way and it wasn’t my fault and I felt depressed being the only one in my family and not understanding,” she said.
Socializing with those in the hearing community is a continuous challenge for Fatima, not only because of the language barrier but because of the preconceived notions she feels many in the hearing have, even those who have deaf children of their own.
She has wondered why more parents of deaf children haven’t made a bigger effort to connect with the hearing community and seek out services to help them get involved.
“Is it because of parents who have low expectations for their children because they are deaf?, she asked. “I think that’s wrong. I don’t think they should accept that. I think the parents should be more proactive.”
Because her parents moved from Pakistan to America to seek out a better life for her as a deaf child and provided her the resources to eventually live successfully and contribute positively in the hearing world, she feels strongly about the influence parents can have on the success of a deaf child.
“If you do have deaf children or a deaf child, research, make contacts with people you know or even those you may not know, an audiologist, a doctor, an organization, a deaf school. Ask questions. I think the best thing to know what to do with your child is, [to] know. Get information. Get advice from many different sources and then you’ll find the answer through that and you’ll find out what’s best for your kids,” said Fatima
While her parents made huge changes in their lives and hers in order to find her the best opportunities in academics, they didn’t have the same options when it came to teaching her Islam.
Her mother enrolled her Fatima in Sunday School even though the program didn’t offer any interpretive services. She felt strongly that her daughter have some connection to the religion and the mosque.
“I sat there kind of clueless with all the other peers who were learning and I had no idea what was going on but my other friend let me copy her work,” she said with a laugh, “...because I had no idea what was going on and they didn’t provide an interpreter for me. So, that’s how I got through that class.”
Although she looks back at it now with as a humorous story, Fatima understands the struggle that many in the deaf community face when attempting to establish a religions identity.
“It’s not fair to the people who don’t have access to it because they’re deaf. I mean, they grow up not knowing,” she said, “I think its so important that all deaf people who are Muslim know about their religion.”
Fatima’s mom, who learned sign language when Fatima was three, taught her the basics one on one in sign language. A method that Fatima says was far more productive than any class she attended.
Though she wasn’t easily able to learn the way that other kids where, there was one thing she really wanted to make clear.
“I really want to spread the message that you can’t limit [the deaf community] from anything we want to do. Yes we are deaf but that doesn’t mean we are incapable of doing what we want. [We may need to get] an interpreter but that doesn’t mean that stops us. We need to have the services available but we can do what we want. The only thing I can’t do is hear. That’s it. Aside from that I’m completely normal.”
She doesn’t blame the community she grew up in for not providing services for her. Being the only deaf Muslim in her mosque, she understood that the effort and expense may not have seemed worth it.
However, when she went back to her childhood mosque as an adult to give a presentation on the needs of the deaf Muslim community, she was surprised by the response.
Many in the community were simply unaware of the need and were actually very interested in learning how they could make interpreters available.
It’s one step, she said, toward bridging that gap between the hearing and the deaf community.
While the hearing community struggles with fully understanding what the deaf community needs, the deaf community also has its own concerns about being understood.
“[Deaf people are concerned] when hearing people try to interpret for us or if they try to give us a voice. Deaf people want our [their] voice heard but, its not what we want all the time. I am a functional adult i can do things for myself. I want my exact message heard,” she said. “Sometimes an interpreter gets mixed up. It’s not 100% perfect. We want our message to be heard and we don’t want it to be changed by the interpreter.”
It’s a delicate balance of translation and interpretation.
The sound of silence was resonantly loud amidst the clinks of coffee cups.
↑Back To Top
Islamic Knowledge and the Deaf Community
Deaf Parents First Taught Sign Language to Hearing Children
Mission of Hearing Impaired Youth: Teach Qur’an to the Deaf
For Deaf Muslimah, America Offered Access to Success
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Salaam - Well put. It put's everything in context. ...
Interesting concept - Definitely going to check out 1 of the sessions......