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Tag: ASL

  • Day 13: Deaf Accessibility Wins – Celebrating 10 Years of Canada VRS

    This year marks 10 years since Canada VRS officially launched on September 28, 2016. While there were earlier discussions, trials, and CRTC decisions leading up to it, the public rollout was a major milestone.

    In the U.S., VRS had already been available since the early 2000s, with commercial rollout in 2003. Companies like Sorenson Media (with dedicated videophones like the VP-100) and better high-speed internet made it practical and popular for Deaf and hard-of-hearing users communicating in ASL through video interpreters.

    I remember making calls from Canada using U.S. VRS services through phone companies like AT&T. It was all done online with a computer, internet connection, and bulky webcams. Not long after, Viable introduced the V-Pad for Deaf Canadians — free to use. There were also early point-to-point video calling options using IP.

    This was a massive shift from the old TTY era. Video Relay Service finally allowed Deaf people to communicate using their primary language — ASL — efficiently and naturally.

    Since then, internet speeds, data, and video quality have improved dramatically. Today we have seamless options like MS Teams, Zoom, FaceTime, and Google Meet. It’s incredible to see how far technology has come in such a short time.

    I believe AI will open even more possibilities in the years ahead.

    Canada VRS has been a significant accessibility win — and it’s worth celebrating its 10-year milestone.

    What about you? How has Video Relay Service (or similar video technology) changed communication in your life? Or what’s one tech advancement that made a big difference for you?

    Share your experiences in the comments!

    See you tomorrow for Day 14!

  • Day 7: Deaf Accessibility Wins – Small Gestures, Big Connections

    Recently, I had the honour of giving a speech at a high school graduation. The MLA (Member of the Legislative Assembly) was also on stage. I actually knew her from years ago — we worked together at a social services agency, where I was a case manager and she was the social worker supporting the same individual. Back then, collaborating made advocating for that person’s needs much smoother.

    It was great to see her again in a different stage of our careers, still working for the same community.

    After the speeches, as we mingled with the crowd, she came up to me and asked, “What’s the sign for ‘congratulations’?” I showed her, and she practiced it right there.

    Little things like this go a long way. When someone genuinely wants to connect by learning even a small piece of our language, it moves beyond basic “access” or “inclusion.” It becomes a real human connection — being seen, understood, and valued.

    When hearing people take the initiative to learn from us, it opens up space for Deaf and non-Deaf people to coexist more naturally and authentically.

    These small, sincere moments are powerful wins.

    What about you? Have you ever had a meaningful moment where someone made an effort to learn a bit of sign language or bridge a communication gap? How did it feel?

    Share your stories in the comments — these small wins are worth celebrating!

    See you tomorrow for Day 8!

  • Day 6: Deaf Accessibility Wins – From Nodding Hello to Real Conversations

    For years, when I walked my daughter to school, the drop-off spot was the same routine: nods, smiles, waves, and quick goodbyes. As a Deaf parent, communication barriers made anything deeper difficult. Gestures were usually the best we could do.

    This went on for weeks until some parents started learning basic signs from YouTube — “Hi, I’m Trevor. Nice to meet you. How are you? I’m fine.” It was a nice shift from pure gesturing to a mix of signs, gestures, and superficial chats about the weather.

    Of course, learning a few signs doesn’t mean full conversations. When it was my turn to respond, things would slow down. Real connection only happens when both sides can understand and express themselves comfortably.

    One day, I used VRI On-Demand at the drop-off. The parent I usually gestured with was impressed. Suddenly we could have a real conversation. I learned he was a web developer and his wife was a nurse. Word spread, and I started learning more about other parents — a home technician, landlord, construction worker, retired teacher, and several running home-based businesses.

    VRI On-Demand helped “speed up” the process of getting to know each other when communication barriers were removed. While learning ASL is valuable and takes time, tools like VRI make meaningful interactions possible right away.

    These small moments at school drop-off turned into real community connections — and that’s a beautiful accessibility win.

    What about you?

    Have you experienced a moment where better communication tools helped you connect more deeply with other parents, neighbours, or people in your community?

    Share your story in the comments!

    See you tomorrow for Day 7!

  • ‘Nothing About Us Without Us’: Why AI Accessibility Demands Deaf Leadership

    Author's Note

    This article was originally published on DeafDots on June 5, 2026.

    As the original author, I am republishing it here on my personal blog to make the content accessible to my audience and to continue the conversation around artificial intelligence, accessibility, and Deaf leadership.

    Original publication details:

    Title: "Nothing About Us Without Us: Why AI Accessibility Demands Deaf Leadership"

    Author: Jordan Sangalang, Local Journalism Initiative Reporter

    Originally published by DeafDots on June 5, 2026.

    The article below appears substantially as originally published, with only minor formatting adjustments made for this website.

    By Jordan Sangalang, Local Journalism Initiative Reporter

    As artificial intelligence rapidly embeds itself into Canadian infrastructure—influencing everything from automated workplace tools to emergency alert systems—advocates warn that a major digital divide is forming. Without deliberate intervention, the technology risks leaving behind millions of disabled Canadians.

    Jeffrey Beatty, Chairperson of the Deaf Wireless Canada Consultative Committee (DWCC), is stepping forward to outline the immense opportunities and steep systemic risks AI introduces to the daily lives of Deaf, DeafBlind, and Hard of Hearing (DDBHH) Canadians.

    Speaking strictly from a public accessibility policy perspective, Beatty emphasizes that the rise of AI is fundamentally shifting the landscape of human rights and communication access.

    “For Deaf, DeafBlind, and Hard of Hearing Canadians, this is not just a technology issue,” Beatty states. “It is an accessibility, language, and rights issue.”

    A Tool for Efficiency, Not an Authority

    In his daily policy and advocacy work, Beatty actively leverages AI tools. He uses them to process large quantities of public information concerning telecommunications, regulatory captioning requirements, and digital services.

    “They help me organize information, summarize long documents, improve writing clarity, prepare notes, and compare complex public information,” Beatty explains. He views the technology as a valuable asset for parsing dense, multi-layered regulatory frameworks.

    However, Beatty is quick to draw a hard line between a tool that assists human capability and one that replaces it.

    “I do not treat AI as the final authority. AI can make mistakes, miss context, or give information that sounds confident but is wrong. AI supports the work. It does not replace DDBHH people.”

    For Beatty, the final judgment on any policy piece must remain rooted in human expertise, community accountability, and the lived realities of the DDBHH community.

    The Limitations of Text and Audio-Centric Design

    While text-generation models can streamline administrative tasks or translate complex legalese into plain language, Beatty notes that current mainstream AI design suffers from a deep-seated auditory bias.

    “My biggest concern is that many AI tools are still built around hearing people, speech, audio, and written English,” Beatty says. This structural bias means that users of American Sign Language (ASL), Langue des signes québécoise (LSQ), and Indigenous Sign Languages (ISLs) are frequently excluded or fundamentally misunderstood by modern algorithms.

    True communication access extends far beyond basic English text transcription. Sign languages are distinct, complete languages featuring complex spatial structures and cultural nuances.

    “Many Deaf people use ASL, LSQ, or ISLs which include visual grammar, facial expression, movement, space, and culture. AI tools must respect that,” Beatty says. He notes that poorly trained models regularly generate inaccurate captions, broken translations, or digital avatars that completely fail to replicate real sign language syntax.

    Furthermore, Beatty highlights serious emerging risks regarding data sovereignty, consent, and safety. Because sign languages are inherently visual, training AI translation tools requires vast amounts of video data—raising critical concerns about personal privacy, digital identity ownership, and the targeted misuse of deepfake technology.

    A Vision for Deaf-Led Governance

    To prevent these technologies from further marginalizing communities, Beatty calls for a complete overhaul of how accessibility is handled in tech development. Historically, accessibility features have been treated as an afterthought—tacked onto a product right before release.

    Beatty argues that the DDBHH community must be structurally integrated into the entire lifecycle of AI development, moving from passive consumers to systemic leaders.

    “In the future, I hope DDBHH Canadians are not only users of AI,” Beatty shares. “We should be leaders, testers, researchers, educators, policy advisors, and decision-makers.”

    The ultimate goal is to see AI safely deployed to improve automated captioning accuracy, strengthen localized emergency communications, and lower barriers to public services—but strictly under a framework of cultural respect and Deaf-led governance.

    “My hope is simple,” says Beatty. “AI should not speak for DDBHH people. AI should support DDBHH people, with DDBHH leadership built in from the start.”

    Watch the full video interview below to hear Jeffrey Beatty’s complete perspective on AI policy and accessibility in Canada:

    Play Video Interview.
    Note: Video will pop up when pressing ‘Play’

    Have Your Say

    How is artificial intelligence affecting your daily access to services, employment, or education? Should the Canadian government mandate disabled and Deaf leadership when setting national AI accessibility standards?

    Leave your thoughts and experiences in the comments section below.

    About This Article

    This article was originally reported and written by Jordan Sangalang and first published by DeafDots on June 5, 2026. It is republished here by the author to support ongoing discussions about AI accessibility, Deaf leadership, and inclusive technology policy in Canada.

  • International Mother Language Day: From Recognition to Redesign in Canada

    Today is International Mother Language Day.

    Across Canada, institutions, schools, and organizations marked the occasion by celebrating the languages that shape identity and community. Notably, the Office of the Chief Accessibility Officer publicly acknowledged that communication is one of the seven priority areas under the Accessible Canada Act — and that American Sign Language (ASL), Langue des signes québécoise (LSQ), and Indigenous Sign Languages are recognized as the primary languages of Deaf people in Canada.

    This matters.

    It matters because the Accessible Canada Act formally acknowledges what Deaf communities have always known: our languages are sovereign, complete, and foundational to who we are.

    But let’s be clear.

    Deaf people did not begin existing when legislation recognized us.
    Our languages were not born when they were written into law.
    We have always been here.

    Beyond Celebration: A Strategic Opening

    International Mother Language Day is not simply a celebration of linguistic diversity. It is an opportunity — a strategic opening — to shift from recognition to redesign.

    Recognition says: We see you.
    Design says: We build with you.

    There is a profound difference.

    For generations, Canadian systems — education, healthcare, employment, media, and policy — were constructed on an assumption of speech supremacy. Deaf presence was treated as an exception to accommodate rather than a design reality to centre.

    Now, with ASL, LSQ, and Indigenous Sign Languages acknowledged within federal law, we stand at a threshold.

    The question is no longer whether our languages are valid.

    The question is:

    What will Canada look like when Deaf presence is embedded by design?

    What Does Deaf Presence by Design Mean?

    What would it mean to:

    • Build policies that begin from visual language, not retrofit it?
    • Structure organizations where sign language is not a service line item but a foundational operating modality?
    • Design businesses where Deaf professionals shape strategy, not merely participate in it?
    • Create public communications that assume visual-spatial language users from the outset?

    This is not about “inclusion.” Inclusion implies an existing structure with space made at the edges.

    This is about architectural influence.

    Deaf Canadians are not guests in this country. We are co-authors of it.

    Language as Activation

    International Mother Language Day reminds us that language is identity.

    But within the Sumain frame, language is also activation.

    When ASL is centred in a household, it is not an accommodation. It is inheritance.
    When LSQ shapes community in Québec, it is not a special feature. It is culture in motion.
    When Indigenous Sign Languages are acknowledged, we are reminded that Deaf presence has always intersected with land, nationhood, and sovereignty.

    Recognition under the Accessible Canada Act is significant. It gives us a legal foothold. It gives advocates leverage. It gives institutions direction.

    But legislation alone does not redesign landscapes.

    People do.

    Moving From Gratitude to Authorship

    This moment is an invitation — especially for Deaf leaders, entrepreneurs, educators, artists, policymakers, and families — to move beyond gratitude and into authorship.

    How will we influence:

    • The next generation of policy?
    • The structure of Deaf-led enterprises?
    • The training of architects, urban planners, and technologists?
    • The narrative Canada tells about communication, cognition, and human diversity?

    We are not waiting to belong.
    We already do.

    International Mother Language Day is a reminder that our languages are not peripheral to Canada’s story. They are integral to it.

    The future Canadian landscape — socially, economically, and politically — can be shaped with Deaf presence by design.

    The law has acknowledged our languages.

    Now we activate them.

    Start reframing now.

  • “It’s Accessible—It Has Captions”: Why That Assumption Still Excludes Deaf People in Canada

    As a Deaf dad, accessibility is not an abstract concept for me. It shows up in my work, my parenting, my community involvement, and in the everyday digital spaces my family and I navigate. It also shows up in conversations—often small, well-intentioned ones—that reveal how misunderstood Deaf accessibility still is.

    One such conversation recently took place on a social media messaging platform, and it highlighted a gap that many hearing content creators don’t realize exists.

    The creator reached out to me first, likely in the context of business, leads, or collaboration. She shared about her regular content posting and YouTube channel. As someone grounded in Deaf culture and accessibility work, I saw an opportunity to gently raise awareness about how her content could be more accessible to Deaf audiences—particularly Deaf leads, prospects, and clients.

    I suggested incorporating American Sign Language (ASL) for key videos, such as signed translations or interpretations.

    Her response was:

    “But it’s accessible with captions! And it’s my understanding most Deaf people can read English.”

    The exchange was polite and not hostile. Yet it reflected several deeply rooted misconceptions about Deaf accessibility—misconceptions that remain widespread in Canada. This experience is worth sharing not to single out one person, but to raise awareness about a systemic issue that continues to shape who is included and who is left out online.

    Captions Are Important—But They Are Not the Same as Access

    Captions play an important role in accessibility. They help many Deaf and hard-of-hearing people access spoken content, and when done well, they can include speaker identification and sound cues.

    However, captions alone are not an equivalent solution for the Deaf community.

    ASL Is a First Language for Many Deaf People

    For many Deaf Canadians—especially those who are prelingually Deaf and culturally Deaf—ASL is their first and primary language. ASL is not English on the hands. It is a fully developed visual language with its own grammar, syntax, and cultural meaning.

    ASL is experienced through movement, facial expression, and spatial relationships—not through reading text. When captions are presented in English, they assume fluency in a language that may be a second language for many Deaf people.

    In the Canadian context, this also includes la langue des signes québécoise (LSQ) and Indigenous sign languages used in some communities. Deaf Canadians are linguistically diverse, and English is not automatically the most accessible option.

    Captions Increase Cognitive Load

    Reading captions while watching visuals requires constant eye movement and mental processing. This can be especially challenging for fast-paced, technical, or emotionally nuanced content—particularly when captions are auto-generated and inaccurate (often referred to as “craptions”).

    ASL naturally conveys tone, emphasis, emotion, and intent through non-manual signals. For native signers, ASL often provides a clearer and more complete experience than written English captions.

    The Deaf Community Is Not One-Size-Fits-All

    Some Deaf people rely on captions. Some rely on ASL. Many prefer both. Needs vary depending on age of language exposure, education, identity, and access history.

    The statement “most Deaf people can read English” reflects a common assumption, but it oversimplifies reality. Research consistently shows wide variation in English literacy among Deaf individuals—largely due to language deprivation and systemic barriers in education.

    Assuming captions are sufficient for “most” people inevitably excludes those who already face the greatest barriers.

    What Canadian Deaf-Led Advocacy Has Long Said

    These issues are not new. Deaf-led organizations in Canada have been clear for decades:

    • The Canadian Association of the Deaf – Association des Sourds du Canada (CAD-ASC) advocates for the recognition and use of ASL, LSQ, and Indigenous sign languages. CAD-ASC played a key role in shaping the Accessible Canada Act, which explicitly names these sign languages in federal law and affirms the right to accessible communication.
    • The Canadian Hard of Hearing Association (CHHA) promotes accessible communities while recognizing the diverse communication needs across Deaf and hard-of-hearing populations.
    • Canadian service providers such as Asign demonstrate how sign language interpreting, translation, and on-demand solutions remove real-world communication barriers in workplaces, education, and digital spaces.

    These perspectives align with international standards like the Web Content Accessibility Guidelines (WCAG), which recognize sign language as a necessary accessibility option—not an enhancement—for prerecorded content.

    “But It’s Accessible”: A Hearing-Centred Starting Point

    The response I received reflects a common hearing-centred mindset: captions are seen as “doing accessibility,” often based on general advice rather than Deaf input.

    The phrase “my understanding” matters. It signals reliance on assumptions rather than lived experience or Deaf-led knowledge. This is not about blame. Many hearing creators simply haven’t been exposed to Deaf linguistic realities.

    As a Deaf dad, I see how these assumptions show up everywhere—from online content to education systems to public services. They are rarely intentional, but their impact is real.

    Moving Toward Meaningful Accessibility

    Accessibility is not about perfection. It’s about choice, equity, and listening.

    Practical steps for Canadian content creators include:

    • Providing accurate, well-timed captions as a baseline.
    • Offering ASL or LSQ options for key content through signed videos, picture-in-picture interpreters, or separate sign language translations.
    • Consulting Deaf ASL/LSQ professionals and Deaf community members.
    • Asking audiences what they need instead of assuming.
    • Learning from Deaf-led organizations and Canadian accessibility frameworks.

    When accessibility is done well, everyone benefits. Deaf people gain meaningful participation—not partial access. Creators expand their reach and build trust with communities too often overlooked.

    Let’s Keep the Conversation Going

    If you’re a content creator, educator, employer, or organization in Canada, I invite you to reflect:

    Who might your current accessibility choices unintentionally exclude?

    This post isn’t meant to end the conversation—it’s meant to open one.

    As a Deaf dad and community advocate, I believe real accessibility grows through dialogue, curiosity, and a willingness to learn. If you have questions, reflections, or experiences to share, I welcome them. Let’s continue building digital spaces where Deaf people are not an afterthought, but an integral part of the audience from the start.