DEAFinitely Crew connects hearing and Deaf youth in Boston through celebration of dance

“Do you want to dance with us?”

 Jamie Robinson, a tall blonde in a black baseball cap, asked, smiling brightly. A dozen kids eagerly looked back at me. As I looked around the dance studio, I saw children of different ages and races, some with hearing aids and some without, a few speaking while others communicated by the swift movements of their hands. 

I had spent the first few minutes of practice sitting in the corner of the small Newton YMCA studio, decorated with orange wallpaper and scattered water bottles. My roommate, who is also learning American Sign Language, and I were practicing the rudimentary signs we knew, when we received the invitation. We shot each other a quick “Here goes nothing!” glance and joined the crew. 

While we struggled to learn the routine, we were blown away by the young dancers. Not all of them could hear the music they were dancing to, but kept the beat and exuded its emotion. As I would soon learn, Deaf people have always been involved in the dance world.

 Robinson, who is hearing, is the founder of DEAFinitely Crew, a majority Deaf youth dance team. She skimmed through music on her computer until one track caught the attention of a hearing member of the crew. Seeming to recognize the song from a previous performance, the teenage boy began dancing the corresponding routine energetically. Upon seeing a few moves executed, one of the Deaf assistant coaches, a teenage girl, couldn’t help but jump in. 

The duo harmoniously synced with one another, each adding their own flair; one favoring fluidity and the other sharpness, but their bodies moving effortlessly in tandem. The room erupted with giggles as the younger dancers attempted to mimic their moves. The two dancers fixated their eyes on the mirror in front of them, as they shared grins and laughter. They hit every beat of impressively intricate footwork and brought the attitude that defines hip-hop dancing. As if activated by their performance, all of the younger dancers grew restless, tripping over themselves, eager to begin.  

DEAFinitely Crew was born six years ago, when Robinson was teaching dance at her children’s elementary school. She used this opportunity to teach hearing students some ASL, and later thought to extend an invitation to the Horace Mann School for the Deaf in Allston.  She didn’t think anyone would be interested, but the students were really excited to dance. 

The dance group is one of Boston’s only youth performance crews made up of mostly Deaf and Hard of Hearing members, consisting of about 30 kids between the ages of 7 and 17.

“It used to be 10 to 14,” Robinson said. “My kids keep staying longer and longer, and younger and younger kids keep getting drawn to this.. so we keep expanding.”

The program’s culture revolves around the concept of ‘Deaf gain’ instead of hearing loss and embraces deafness as a benefit to human diversity rather than a disability.  Robinson, who has been dancing for over 20 years, graduated from New York University with a Master’s Degree in Deaf Studies. She quickly became immersed in Deaf culture and worked alongside local and national Deaf organizations to promote equitable opportunities for all.

“There was such a big need for dance and expression,” Robinson said. “Even the hearing kids were immediately drawn to sign language and dance and getting to know kids that they might not normally meet.”

Although many hearing people don’t know it, members of the Deaf, DeafBlind, and Hard of Hearing communities have always been interested in dance.The renowned Czechoslovakian Deaf dancer, Mobi Urbanova, born in 1914, started dancing at age three and soon took to the stage, winning records for exhibitions in Prague. She later went on to teach dance to other Deaf children following World War II.  

Years later, in 1955, Gallaudet University, the world's only accredited liberal arts university designed for Deaf and Hard of Hearing students, founded their own dance company. The company was established after Dr. Peter Wisher, a physical education professor, witnessed  “The Lord’s Prayer” being signed by a student. As explained on the Gallaudet Dance Company website, Wisher was "impressed by the beauty and movement of the signs [and] saw the possibility of using signs as a foundation for dance movement..." He invited students to meetings and the recreational club soon became a recognized dance company featuring styles such as hip-hop, jazz, lyrical ballet and ASL-infused dance. The Gallaudet Dance Company has since performed all over the world; from their campus in Washington, D.C to Brazil to South Korea.

Nowadays, more Deaf dancers and artists are gaining visibility in film and television, and posting their craft on social media. In season six of Dancing With The Stars (2008), actress Marlee Matlin became the first Deaf competitor on the show. Since then, the show has had two more Deaf competitors, season 22's winner Nyle DiMarco (2016) and Matlin's CODA costar, Daniel Durant (2022). In the semifinals, Durant and his partner actually performed a routine without music to depict the experience of Deaf dancers.

For Deaf dancers, learning routines looks differently than it does for hearing dancers. 

Throughout practice, Robinson’s assistant Lucy Howard-Karp, who’s Deaf, was equal parts passionate and unapologetic when she corrected the dancers’ errors. 

Howard-Karp would command the attention of the younger dancers by waving them over. She would firmly demonstrate what the dancer was doing wrong with her body and hand movements, no words needed. If that didn’t work, she would show them the right way by moving their hands for them. 

Sporting a low brushed-back bun, gray band tee and black cargo pants, the 15-year-old attends Newton North High School, a “mainstream” school with mostly hearing students. Robinson pays her for her work at DEAFinitely, setting an example of a fair work environment. 

Like Urbanova, Howard-Karp realized her love for dancing at just three years old. She and a Deaf friend joined a dance class together and she’s been dancing ever since.  Three years ago, she joined DEAFinitely after finding the crew’s Facebook page. 

She showed her mother, who told her, “‘Oh! Deaf people dancing like you, Why not join?”

Howard-Karp moves with a purpose, her passion for what she does evident by the conviction in her steps and the endlessly expressive brown eyes behind her round frames.  

“I like showing people who I am at heart,” she signed. Lucy, whose own special sign name is literally the handshape for “I love you” while rotating your wrist and moving it downward, carries herself with an impressive aura of self-assurance I could only dream of having at her age. She plans to keep dancing for her foreseeable future, keeping it as a fun pastime she loves to do. 

Deafness occurs on a spectrum. Some individuals hear nothing at all. Others with residual hearing can hear some bass tones of the music. Instructors teaching Deaf performers often play a drum to indicate the rhythm and beat of the routine. 

"I'm focusing on the pattern, I'm focusing on how many times he's hit [the drum]," dancer Brandy Mimms said. Mimms identifies as both Deaf and Blind. "When does it change? Every eight counts, it's the same. Okay, okay, I got it, I have to remember that feeling and that rhythm, I have to remember it in my body and in my head for me to go, okay. You know, hearing people can hear it when they're dancing, I have to memorize the music, the pattern..."

Mimms performed with the DEAFinitely Crew last March in their “This is My Brave” show, as an invited guest.  

Growing up, she always found herself dancing in her room, pretending she was a ballerina, but never thought dance could be in her future. It wasn’t until she was married with two sons that she decided to go back to school to study dance. 

She finished her degree after six years, at the age of 33, despite multiple authority figures doubting her. She recalls a time where her advisor admitted to not thinking she would finish the program.

“I just knew I love[d] to dance, but I did struggle, because my struggles come with being Deaf. I have to learn to dance differently. I can't hear when a teacher turns away and talks back to me or if there's people talking at the same time.”

In DEAFinitely Crew, the Deaf and hearing members look to one another for help. Because some of the children cannot hear the beat and others can, the Deaf members can look to their hearing counterparts if they find themselves lost. Although hearing members hear the beat, they can also look to their Deaf peers for consistency in tempo since they are not relying on the music, but counting in their heads.

Robinson hosts practices at the School For The Deaf on Wednesdays, alongside some of the school’s staff. On the weekends, she conducts smaller practices of about 12 hearing and four Deaf kids who attend “mainstream” schools. She teaches both groups the same choreography for months, then brings them together at the end of the year to perform as one huge ensemble of 30. 

The combined group performs once to twice a month between January and September. They have performed at venues such as the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston Children’s Museum and Fenway Stadium.

“It’s interesting to see how [the kids] interact,” Robinson said. “The hearing kids learn sign language, but not enough to really sign.. so they're really more just [being] kids. They use their phones, they go on TikTok together, they type, they fingerspell. [At first,] very awkward, and then they’ll just play and dance.”

I experienced this unconventional connection firsthand through the games they played at practice. The dancers, Deaf and hearing, formed a circle. They went on to play “The Elephant Game,” a prominent game in Deaf culture where one person stands in the middle and points to a player, prompting them to quickly mimic an elephant trunk by “placing two ‘S’ handshapes together in front of his or her nose.” The two players on both sides of the person have to complete the image by forming ears using ‘B’ handshape.

Following that, we all lined up to participate in an exercise meant to strengthen each dancer’s signing. We were assigned into two groups facing one another. I stood nervously at the end. Kristin Osbourne, the program’s Lead ASL Instructor, signed us the rules. She instructed us to ask each other for our names, or in ASL, signing “Your name what?” while the other responds with “My name _____.” We did this until the entire class got acquainted with one another, as well as with fingerspelling. 

Upon learning our names, a petite dancer wearing a bright teal hearing aid, looked up at my friend and me and asked us if we wanted cookies. While explaining it to us, her left hand laid scrunching upwards while her right formed a claw shape on top of it. She rotated her slightly to sign the word, “Cookie.” We smiled and accepted, signing “Yes” by forming a fist-like ‘S’ handshape, and moving it up and down in a nodding movement. 

Beyond DEAFinitely, there are organizations all over the country celebrating this artistry among the Deaf community, such as Invisible Hands International.  

Fred Beam, award-winning Deaf director, choreographer and dancer, founded IHI to promote Deaf culture awareness through art and performance. The organization recruits, trains and finds opportunities for Deaf and Hard of Hearing artists. Prior to running the non-profit, Beam co-founded Wild Zappers, the only all male Deaf Dance company in America at the time. 

 “[In my 30 years,] it was more of my name out there, not the label [of being Deaf]. People won't have any idea that I am Deaf when I am teaching dancing, choreographing or performing…” Beam said. “I had to fight for my right to get interpreters so that I can have access to communication. It is still strange to [hearing people] because of their limited experience with Deaf dancers…”

To Beam, dance is a universal language. Deaf individuals “see” and understand music through the powerful movements of dance and signing of lyrics. He feels empowered when he dances, as well as a sense of confidence when he is able to perform just as good or better than his hearing peers. 

    “...Our [bodies are] not broken and there are many Deaf dancers out there. They were [just] not given a platform in the hearing world just like any disabled person in the field of arts,” Beam said. “[Many] hearing people haven't learned or experienced dancing with Deaf people. They just get the myth that if Deaf people cannot hear, they cannot survive in anything. [Hearing people] need to be exposed to them in order to have a right idea about Deaf people.” 

Beam also identifies as BlackDeafMale, as he feels writing the words separately as “Black and Deaf” insinuates these identities are only half of him and fall short of his experience as a whole. 

“Intersectionality means seeing a part of me in a place,” Beam said. “One is supposed to show all parts of themselves in any situation. In reality, it doesn't happen…I just want to be whole in every place I go without compromising my identity.”

DEAFinitely. Inc hopes to create that safe space for the kids here in Boston, as the crew features majority BIPOC, or “Black, Indigenous, and other People Of Color" dancers. 

“The hearing white kids are the minority here,” Robinson said. “The Deaf kids get to take over that communication and [have] most kids look like them.”

The program makes sure to have not only ASL interpreters at their shows, but also Spanish, Portuguese and sometimes Mandarin interpreters to cater to the dancers that are children of immigrants or whose parents do not know English nor ASL. 

 “We have to let them be social, they want to be there to be social because when they go home from school, things are going over their head, they're missing conversations with their families, [and] they're not able to have that with their friends, like so many of us did,” Robinson told me.

When hiring, Robinson is always looking for strong dancers who are Deaf or fluent in ASL but can also connect with the kids. She told me a story about a potential instructor that had all the qualifications, but couldn’t really bond with the dancers when they came in. 

“I was like, ‘No, that's over.’ You gotta be able to let the kids be the diverse kids they are, they come from different economic situations, they come from different countries,” Robinson added.

According to the 2022 Massachusetts Census, it is estimated that Deaf, DeafBlind and Hard of Hearing individuals make up 3.3 percent of the state’s population. Although it might seem like a small percentage, it amounts to about 231,987 people. 

Even so, many hearing people have never interacted with Deaf individuals before. My ASL Professor Nancy Vincent-Meotti signed ‘Yes’ enthusiastically, when I asked her if she saw any progress in visibility and opportunities for Deaf people in the hearing world since she was a child. However, she also shared anecdotes with the class depicting that there is still much work to be done. One time, she was at the airport and informed the TSA agents that she was Deaf. Upon learning this, an agent grabbed a wheelchair for her to sit in. “I can walk!” Vincent-Meotti signed to us, baffled. She laughed at the memory, but it really hammered in that these stigmas are alive and well. 

Although the performance crew is considered the heart of the non-profit organization, DEAFinitely, Inc. has a multitude of programs that aims to bridge the gap between diverse communities of all ages, backgrounds, languages and cultures.

DEAFinitely, Inc. has its own Deaf-led Youth Council (DYC). It consists of youth ages 15-22 who meet on a monthly basis to discuss certain issues or topics that are relevant to Deaf youth. 

“We're trying to provide opportunities for leadership and advocacy skills,” Robinson said. “When the kids are performing on stage, and everybody sees their talent and loves it, they build a certain self esteem. So we're hoping that kind of carries into the next parts of their life.”

One of DEAFinitely’s main priorities is supporting the emotional well-being and mental health of their students. Last year, they collaborated with the “This is My Brave” initiative to present a production called “Heart Truth - Mental Health Stories from the Deaf Community in Boston, Massachusetts.”

The production told the stories of thirteen Deaf, DeafBlind, Deaf Disabled and Hard of Hearing performers through movement and dance. Howard-Karp participated, along with Mimms. The performances centered personal stories of mental health battles and aimed to celebrate the resilience within the community. 

As someone who is white and hearing, Robinson eventually hopes that she can step back from her role and give her platform to someone who represents the majority of the crew. She aims to maintain a majority Deaf staff as well.

This sentiment is appreciated and emphasized within Deaf culture, as the Deaf community has historically been left out of spaces and have had decisions made for them. 

 “Nothing about us without us,” Kim Anderson, the Co-Executive Director of Museum of Deaf History Arts & Culture, one of the only Deaf-centered museums in the US, said. “Our hope is that [hearing visitors of the museum] gain an understanding of the importance of this quote. [We] must have truths told through the Deaf narrative, lenses, and heart for equitable and inclusive changes to happen for all of humanity.”

DEAFinitely Crew continues to prepare for their upcoming performances, beginning in January. 

“I’m proud to be a Deaf dancer,” Howard-Karp signed to me matter-of-factly. “I’m not weak or bad. I like dancing and I think I’m okay [at it].”

Shrugging as if to toss the world’s opinions off her shoulders, she continued, “I’m proud, I’m not scared.”