Why Language Access Changes Everything

By Rachel Berman-Kobylarz, MA (she/her)

Principal Lecturer - Northeastern University, Boston

I was born Deaf in Las Vegas to a hearing family. At the time, we didn’t know why I was Deaf. Years later we learned it was genetic, Connexin 26 but like many families, mine had to make decisions before having all the information. Deaf education programs weren’t very strong then, so my parents chose to mainstream me. I was also a late diagnosis and language English learner but eventually caught up with intensive speech therapy. They did the best they could with what they knew, and that foundation of love and support has always mattered deeply to me.

Growing up, my family didn’t learn American Sign Language. I learned to communicate verbally with them, and we’ve always been close, but there has always been a quiet wish in my heart that they had learned ASL too. That wish never really goes away. I’ve come to a place of acceptance, and I love my family dearly, but that longing is one reason I strongly advocate for bilingualism at home whenever possible. Language is about more than communication—it’s about connection, ease, and identity.

For much of my childhood, I didn’t know other Deaf kids. That changed when I attended a Deaf camp at Clarke. I went twice, and for the first time in my life, I had Deaf peers. I wasn’t the only one asking for repeats, navigating misunderstandings, or working twice as hard to keep up. I wasn’t alone. That experience planted a seed, even though I didn’t yet have the language to fully understand what it meant to be Deaf.

The biggest turning point came later, when I aged out of Clarke and attended Aspen Camp in Colorado. That’s where I learned ASL for the first time and where I truly found myself as a Deaf person. Learning ASL didn’t just give me a new language; it gave me clarity, confidence, and community. I felt more complete, like a missing piece had finally clicked into place. Deaf camp was life-changing for me, especially as a Deaf child who had been mainstreamed. I still keep in touch with many former campers, and those relationships continue to ground me.

My path didn’t suddenly become linear after that. I attended a hearing university for my undergraduate degree, continuing to navigate different worlds and expectations. Later, I went to Gallaudet University for my master’s degree, where I deepened my connection to Deaf culture—and where I met my husband. That chapter felt like a beautiful full circle moment.

My journey as a Deaf person has changed many times depending on my environment, access, and the resilience I had to build along the way. Having both languages, spoken English and ASL, has made it easier for me to navigate the world, but more importantly, ASL helped me understand who I am. Deaf camps, Deaf communities, and language access didn’t just support me. They shaped me. That’s why I believe so strongly in giving Deaf children every possible opportunity to connect, belong, and thrive.