an Old Pattern We Need to Talk About
Over the past while, and increasingly as the new year begins, I’ve been contacted by several companies looking to build ASL-based digital platforms and AI-driven programs. In each case, the outcome was the same: either I was turned down when I asked for a fair share in ownership and decision-making, or I chose to walk away when it became clear that Deaf involvement would be limited to content creation and sign-off, not leadership.
That experience isn’t unique, but it is telling.
As we step into a new year, I’ve been noticing a pattern that feels uncomfortably familiar, and it’s happening more often.
More companies are approaching the Deaf community with polished platforms, proprietary technology, and clear revenue goals. On the surface, these projects are presented as supporting ASL. But when you look closer, the ownership, control, and long-term benefit remain firmly hearing-owned.
The pedagogy is digital.
The delivery is automated or AI-based.
The Deaf role is limited.
Deaf people are asked to contribute content.
To sign off on accuracy.
To “give permission.”
But not to lead.
Not to own.
Not to shape the vision.
ASL With Deaf Permission Is Not Deaf-Led
We need to be honest about what’s happening.
This is ASL without Deaf people, but with Deaf permission.
That distinction matters.
When Deaf involvement is reduced to content creation or consultation, while the business, intellectual property, platform, and profits stay hearing-owned, we’re not building equity. We’re recreating old power structures with new technology.
ASL is not just a set of signs.
It is a language rooted in lived experience, community norms, cultural knowledge, and relational teaching.
You cannot separate the language from the people and still claim authenticity.
Digital Platforms and AI Are Not Enough
Technology can be a tool, but it is not the teacher.
AI can replicate motion.
Platforms can scale content.
Neither can carry lived experience, cultural accountability, or community responsibility.
Teaching sign language is not the same as displaying signs on a screen or animating hands through code.
Language lives in:
- facial grammar
- timing and turn-taking
- shared cultural references
- community accountability
- lived Deaf experience
When ASL pedagogy is reduced to automation without Deaf leadership, it becomes transactional. Efficient, maybe, but incomplete and misleading.
Digital tools can support learning.
They cannot replace Deaf educators.
They cannot replace community.
And they should never replace Deaf leadership.
Support Is Welcome, Replacement Is Not
Let me be clear: collaboration is not the problem.
We want allies.
We want innovation.
We want investment in sign language.
What we don’t want is to be quietly displaced in our own language, especially under the promise that “AI will make it accessible.”
If a company’s success depends on ASL, then Deaf people must be more than contributors, they must be decision-makers, owners, and leaders within that structure.
Anything less is extraction.
A Call for Care, and Courage
As a community, we need to slow down and ask better questions:
- Who owns the platform?
- Who controls the pedagogy?
- Who benefits long-term?
- Who has the final say?
- And who is missing from the leadership table?
Permission is not the same as power.
Representation is not the same as ownership.
Inclusion is not the same as equity.
This new year, I hope we choose courage over convenience, and community over contracts that quietly take our place.
ASL deserves more.
Deaf people deserve more.
And we should never have to give permission for our own language to exist without us.
I write ASL, but there are many sign languages in Canada and across the world. The message is the same for all.
