top of page

A Review of Rachel Kolb's Articulate: A Deaf Memoir of Voice

  • Writer: nervetowrite
    nervetowrite
  • Aug 11
  • 3 min read
The cover of Rob Macaisa Colgate's Hardly Creatures

In her new memoir, Articulate: A Deaf Memoir of Voice, Rachel Kolb blends personal narrative and cultural context to interrogate what it means to live simultaneously in a hearing and D/deaf world. Kolb’s vulnerable introspection reveals ableist assumptions about what it means to be articulate, and how these expectations embed themselves into both the hearing and D/deaf communities. The non-linear form of this memoir allows a stronger focus on Kolb’s reflection on communication and the importance of voice, no matter the form.


Kolb masterfully merges personal narrative and historical context, using her own experiences to contextualize significant aspects of the D/deaf community. In “Bionics,” Kolb explores the social implications of getting a cochlear implant, recognizing both the “medical miracle” it is and the D/deaf community’s fluctuating feelings “...between pride and shame” toward it. Isolation and assimilation permeate throughout both worlds Kolb finds herself pulled between, addressing the hearing world's skewed perception of fluency and the mixed emotions the D/deaf community has toward the technology that bridges the D/deaf and hearing communities. Kolb submerges herself into these communities around the world, navigating an internal and external conflict between her choices to reclaim her own voice and “...the relationship [she] had with [her] community.” These conflicts signify a societally deemed “either/or” when it comes to hearing versus D/deafness, when she has always felt that it could simply be “both.” Her reflection on the narrow-mindedness surrounding language shows readers that “Learning more about one perspective didn’t mean disavowing others,” instead, it is an integral part of community and connection.


Kolb immerses the reader in her world of communication, providing in-depth dissections of understanding lipreading, speaking, and first using the Cochlear implant. The natural question of “Can you read my lips?” that hearing people ask directly combats Kolb’s imagery of Dinner Table Syndrome, a direct result of these communication barriers. “Deduction” is an essential chapter that exemplifies the feelings of “dismay [while] watching words vanish into the empty vast universe,” a direct consequence of the societal separation between the hearing and D/deaf worlds. Her story calls for readers to recognize the constructs that many hearing people take for granted, and to strive towards inclusivity and accessibility. Kolb advocates for dismantling these barriers through persistence and vulnerability, exposing how accessibility “often focuses on mainstream spaces” and inherently “assumes that there is only one world, rather than many.” She explores a variety of topics surrounding the societal implications of inclusivity, such as detailing the complex relationship between interpreters and the hearing impaired and the struggles that masks unavoidably brought on during COVID times, which highlight the hardship that results from this mainstream focus.


Kolb’s reflections on her evolving use of language and her steadfast dedication to educating the world shine through her personal vignettes, which invite us to deeply consider our own actions and “...how our society could better adapt to people with disabilities and other experiences.” Articulate breaks down the unnecessary barriers that have kept us from a human reciprocity that values the genuine exchange of language no matter the means, and unapologetically calls for individual effort to embrace varied forms of communication.




Cassidy Rousseau is an English educator from the Boston area. She is currently a graduate student pursuing her MAT for teaching Secondary English at Bridgewater State University. After a long day of teaching and creating lessons that engage all types of learners, she enjoys reading a twist-filled mystery novel and failing miserably at knitting.



 
 
bottom of page