Why Written English Isn’t Enough: Language Equity for Deaf ASL Users

By Joy Plote, Coda Counselor | The Space Between

Imagine being handed a contract in your second language, one that you were never given full access to as a child. Imagine being expected to read it, understand it, and sign it—without ever being offered the chance to have it explained in your native language. For many Deaf individuals who use American Sign Language (ASL), this scenario isn’t hypothetical. It’s an everyday reality.

The assumption that written English is “good enough” for Deaf people is not only incorrect—it’s harmful. It reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of language acquisition, communication equity, and the rich, visual-spatial nature of ASL. It places Deaf individuals in a position where they are expected to perform fluency in a language that, in many cases, they were denied.

In this blog post, I’ll explain why written English is not a suitable replacement for ASL and what it means to offer true access in educational, medical, legal, and mental health settings.

ASL Is a Language—Not a Code for English

ASL is a complete, natural language. It has its own grammar, syntax, linguistic rules, and cultural norms. It is not signed English, nor is it a visual representation of spoken English. ASL uses facial expressions, handshapes, movement, and spatial referencing to convey meaning in a way that is entirely different from English sentence construction.

To assume that someone who signs fluently in ASL should also read and write English fluently is like assuming that someone fluent in Japanese should automatically be able to read and write Russian. The two systems are distinct.

English Is Often a Second Language—One That Wasn’t Fully Accessible

Many Deaf individuals grow up in environments where spoken language is prioritized over sign language. Often, they are the only Deaf person in a hearing family, and access to ASL is delayed—or never given. This leads to what we call language deprivation, a form of neglect with long-term neurological and psychological consequences.

As a result, many Deaf individuals acquire English in fragmented or inconsistent ways, often through secondhand or remedial instruction. Their ability to read and write English may be uneven—not because they are incapable, but because their first language needs were never met during the critical period of language development.

Expecting written English to serve as the primary mode of communication is not only ineffective—it retraumatizes individuals who were already marginalized by systems that failed to meet their language needs.

Writing Removes the Emotion and Nuance that ASL Naturally Provides

ASL is a deeply expressive language. It allows for nuance, humor, emotion, and cultural depth that cannot be translated one-to-one into written English. Facial expressions are grammatical. Body posture carries meaning. Spatial placement adds layers of context that writing simply can’t capture.

When Deaf individuals are forced to rely solely on written communication, especially in complex or emotional situations—like therapy, medical care, or legal proceedings—they are often left feeling misunderstood, dismissed, or unseen.

Can you imagine processing your trauma, grief, or medical concerns with someone who only responds in writing, in a language that doesn’t feel fully your own?

Written English = Access Denied

When an institution says “We provided written materials” and assumes that is sufficient, what they are really saying is: “We expect you to come to us. We will not come to you.”

This approach denies the Deaf community the dignity of full participation in society. It places the burden on the Deaf person to struggle through a language that was imposed upon them, often at the expense of their own.

Access is not about checking a box. It is about meeting people where they are, in the language they live in—not just the one dominant society prioritizes.

Legal, Ethical, and Professional Responsibilities

Under the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), entities are required to provide effective communication. This includes interpreters, ASL videos, and translated materials—not just written handouts or verbal explanations.

In the fields of education, medicine, and mental health, providers are ethically obligated to communicate in a way that respects the person’s language and cultural identity. Relying on written English alone not only undermines comprehension, but it also erodes trust.

Providing an ASL interpreter, ASL-accessible content, and culturally competent services is not a favor—it’s a right.

What Equity Looks Like

True access for Deaf ASL users means:

ASL interpreters in all important conversations—medical, educational, legal, therapeutic. ASL videos and visual content, not just PDFs or flyers. Culturally Deaf providers and Deaf-aware professionals. Respecting ASL as the primary language of communication, not an optional “accommodation.”

It also means acknowledging that the problem is not Deaf people’s ability to understand English—it’s society’s unwillingness to provide meaningful access in ASL.

Closing Thoughts

If you believe in inclusion, then inclusion must start with language. We cannot continue to assume that written English is “good enough” for Deaf people. It’s not. It’s never been. And it’s time we stop pretending that access in someone else’s language is access at all.

Deaf individuals who use ASL deserve more than scribbled notes or translated captions. They deserve services, education, and human connection in the language that speaks to their soul.

Let’s stop asking Deaf people to do all the work. Let’s start building a world that speaks their language—literally.

Advocacy sheet here