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It is so nice to be back in my hometown city of Chicago. Since I was here last, my husband and I added another member to our family. This past December, we had (but I did all the work!) our fourth child, Isabelle Jane. We are so happy to be parents of four. Sarah is 8, going on 38; Brandon is 3 and speaks 3 languages, English, Spanish and Sign; Tyler is almost 2 and is a true Matlin (he never takes no for an answer); and beautiful Isabelle who looks like all of her brothers and sister rolled into one. She's got blue eyes like Tyler, dimples like Sarah and a smile like Brandon. If you are wondering if we plan to have more, my husband sent out the first picture of the four together with the caption: "Final Score, 2 to 2, Game Over." Yes, this factory is closed!
Tonight we are here to celebrate people of diversity. I like to say diversity instead of disability because when I hear the word "disability" I think of people who must "overcome" something. I like to think that those whom society has labeled "disabled" are not people who have to "overcome" anything; rather, they are individuals who, for whatever abilities they possess, have encountered prejudices of society because they are different - prejudices that too often stereotype them in harmful ways and stand in the way of achieving their dreams. As all of you here know very well, we all have dreams in our hearts, despite our abilities or perceived "disabilities." I am comforted to know that your being here tonight, you have demonstrated your commitment towards helping those dreams come true, despite the differences we may possess.
Speaking of dreams, I am often asked as a working mother of four, how I manage continue to work on behalf of causes for children of different abilities to reach for their dreams? All I can say is that I was born a Matlin. As a young girl growing up in Morton Grove, I was fortunate that I was born into a family that never took no for an answer - that never let deafness stand in their way. For them it was about a lot of intention and a little chutzpah.
Rather follow the advice of doctors and send me away to schools designed especially for the deaf when I was diagnosed as deaf at 18 months, my parents chose to keep me at home and send me to schools right in the neighborhood; they wanted to have a say in how I lived my life. More importantly, they wanted to keep me close to their hearts. That meant that they sent me to schools right in our neighborhood and were there each morning when I woke up and each night when I was put to bed. So when I am asked how I can ever manage to work so hard on behalf of causes of children with differing abilities, I can say I am proudly passing along the lessons I learned from my parents, a lesson of inclusion and diversity in all children who share the same path to achieving their dreams.
That's not to say growing up was easy for me, despite the fact that my family was so single minded. Sometimes I experienced frustration and sometimes I failed, but that was part of growing up. For me, everyday was about opening that front door and exploring that neighborhood on my own. If I couldn't explore my neighborhood on my own, how could I ever expect to explore the world on my own as an adult? Thanks to family, I grew up in a manner that was secure and challenging, enabled and respectful. And I was afforded the best of two worlds - hearing and deaf.
I must admit that my parents did make one concession on my part, but one which I am very grateful for. Right in front of my house on Ozanam Avenue in Morton Grove, they put up a big yellow sign, that said "Caution: Deaf Child Crossing," just to remind people to slow down when driving by because there was a deaf child playing in the neighborhood.
Some might say that's a concession but you know, for me, the sign meant something else. For me it meant a sense of pride and belonging. It was my sign and it said you were in my neighborhood! It said: "I'm Marlee, want to stop by and say hi? I'll be your best friend!" None of the other kids had a sign of their own in the neighborhood! What a feeling of validation that little yellow sign was!
It's funny that it wasn't until recently that I got my dad to admit that he had another motive for putting up the sign. You see, whenever you got lost coming to our house, my dad would just say to drive around until you found that big yellow sign with the deaf child crossing child warning on it - and there you would be, at the Matlin's house! With the sign to guide you, it was virtually assured that you would never get lost!
As I said earlier, my parents never felt imprisoned by dire prognoses by doctors and professional in the field of hearing loss. Instead, they encouraged me to dream, to try, to make mistakes, to be an active participant in the life of my community. Whether it meant encouraging me to take up acting at 7 years old, or even helping me to realize a very special dream when I was 13 years old, to become a Bat Mitzvah.
I'm sure some people who knew my parents thought, how is a young girl who is deaf going to become a Bat Mitzvah? Well, my parents were fortunate enough to have a partner in their 'never take no for an answer' attitude; Temple Bene Shalom of Chicago, like Keshet, Temple Bene Shalom embraced all who walked through their doors, both the hearing and deaf Jewish communities. Like the mainstreamed schools which I attended that welcomed both hearing and deaf children together, Temple Bene Shalom was about encouraging diversity by including the often overlooked segment of the Jewish deaf. The coming together of the Matlin's and the Temple Bene Shalom was nothing short of Beshert.
There's a wonderful story about my Bat Mitzvah, which illustrates so beautifully about the importance of inclusion and diversity. I began my studies in earnest at Temple Bene Shalom with Rabbi Goldhammer who both signed and spoke alongside deaf and hearing kids. Everyday I worked to phonetically pronounce the Hebrew that would eventually be part of my haftorah. By the time my Bat Mitzvah day had arrived, I was ready. As I read my portion, I looked out to the audience for inspiration. But instead of smiling faces, I saw my mother and father crying. I found out later that their dream was being realized and they couldn't contain their tears of joy. Well, you can imagine what I did when I saw them crying. I started crying too! Soon everybody was crying and when I looked down after I finished my haftorah, I noticed that I had cried on the Torah and stained it with my tears. I was mortified.
After the service, I ran up to the Rabbi and apologized with something like, "I ruined the Torah with my tears!" Just then I realized what I had done and I began to cry again.
Rabbi Goldhammer held my chin and wiped away my tears and said something which I remembered as:
"Throughout Jewish history, Jews have shed many tears - tears for those who were persecuted, tears for those who perished. Many times, it was only the stain of tears which served as our only means to remember, to never forget.
But your tears, which we will never forget, are not tears of sadness, but tears of joy which reminds us of your important day. Your tears will remind us of the achievements you have made as a young girl, who is deaf and who has joined the Jewish community."
Since that time, I've shed many tears and overcome many barriers and today, it's been 18 years since I walked onto the stage of the Dorothy Chandler Pavillion to accept an Academy Award for best Actress. Despite dire predictions that I would never work in Hollywood again, today, I am still a working actress!! And though it hasn't been easy, I have refused to back down, just as my parents refused to back down. Each day, I do my best to remind the world that there are many, many thousands of others out there with different abilities who deserve no less than I deserve - to dream and follow their hearts.
Well, there is a wonderful little story which I think summarizes my commitment to diversity and children and one which I'd like to share with you. It is a wonderful story from Jewish folklore and one of my favorites. It's called "The Diamond."
There once was a king who had a magnificent collection of jewels. He was in love with one great jewel in his collection -- a perfect diamond. Each day he would caress the diamond and gaze into its many facets. He marveled at its perfection. One night, a tragedy occurred. As he cradled the diamond in his sleep, the diamond fell onto the stone floor. The King was horrified. With timid hands, he carefully picked up the diamond, and there, he saw a long spindly crack from the very top of the diamond to the very bottom. The perfect diamond was ruined.
The King grieved over the broken jewel. The ministers of the King, wishing to console him, brought all sorts of experts to repair the diamond but no one could. All seemed lost until little one craftsman offered a solution. "Give me the diamond for one week, and I will bring it back more perfect than before!" The King handed the diamond to the little craftsman.
When the week was over, the little craftsman returned. "I have made the diamond once again perfect!" He exclaimed, but when the King lifted the diamond into the light, it was as it had been before - the long crack, running from the very top to its very bottom tip was still there.
"It's still broken!" Bellowed the King. "Look again," answered the little craftsman and he turned the diamond over for his majesty. There, at the top of the diamond, where the crack met the point, was a tiny little indentation. The craftsman had carved a tiny rose. "You see," said the craftsman, "Now instead of a long, spindly crack, the diamond has the most exquisite rose, with a long magnificent stem running from its very top to its very bottom. Now my King, it is not only repaired, but in truth, your imperfect diamond it is more unique, more remarkable and more perfect than before."
There are so many differently abled children, little imperfect diamonds, who face barriers and are waiting to be turned into beautiful roses. Keshet is making bouquets of beautiful roses each day!! In the end, I am reminded of the words of the Prophet Micah when he said, "What does the Lord require you but to do justice, and love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?"
Remember, as you listen to your children's hearts. I will always be listening to mine. I will continue to speak on behalf of children of all abilities, of all walks of life. In the end, silence is the last thing the world will ever hear from me.
Thank you, God Bless and Shalom.
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