Deaf President Now!

On Nyle DiMarco and Davis Guggenheim's new documentary (exclamation point included!)

Hi readers,

Happy start to summer, unofficially! (We’re still a few weeks out from official summer, but I just got back from my first camping trip of the season, which was grand, so that’s good enough for me.)

I’m slightly late on this one, but for anyone looking for some enticing summertime viewing, go check out Nyle DiMarco and Davis Guggenheim’s new documentary Deaf President Now! After a successful festival run this winter and spring, including at places like Sundance and SXSW, this film about the 1988 student protests at Gallaudet University just launched on Apple TV earlier this month.

Here’s the official trailer:

I finally got the chance to watch Deaf President Now! right after the Apple TV launch, after enjoying some online clips about various screenings around the country, including back at Gallaudet itself in April (which must have been such a dynamic event!). There’s been some good commentary going around about this film, including this great online piece by fellow deaf writer Sara Novic from earlier this month. What follows here is more of a reflection than a review, but read on:

When I sat down and watched the film for myself, around a week and a half ago, I thought about how impactful and multilayered the Deaf President Now protests were. I’ll admit, I grew up relatively naïve to this history until I was out of college, since I was mainstreamed and had little personal connection to Gallaudet until later in my life, when I visited for myself and met more people who had their own ties there, either as students/alumni or as faculty. But since then I’ve learned just how storied these Deaf President Now protests are in the Deaf community — with good reason. As an adult, I’ve been in several community spaces where an older deaf person will stand up and start discussing their own personal experiences at Gallaudet during that pivotal week in March 1988.

I was there. Let me tell you about it. And then there’s a slight lull as people’s eyes turn to listen, to clear space for the story, maybe to ask questions afterwards.

The face-to-face storytelling tradition of the Deaf community is still alive in moments like these, and it’s wonderful.

Deaf President Now still has such resonance, even for those of us (like me) who weren’t yet born when the protests happened: these protests represented the pivotal time where young deaf people, fed up by the longstanding leadership of hearing people who did not know sign language, and also fed up by the longstanding history of speech-and-hearing-centric mindsets, of the usual excuses and dismissals and delays, just stood up and said: no. We are competent. We are capable. Our time has come. Now.

It gives me chills, and I think it gives many other people chills, even in 2025. (Maybe especially in 2025, but that’s a whole other topic to go into.)

Deaf President Now is very much a community event, as well as an event that had a much larger impact on disability rights in America. The Gallaudet student protests led to a wider awareness of deaf and disability issues, to the point that the Americans with Disabilities Act was passed just two years later, during the summer of 1990. (The documentary gives this larger history a brief nod at the very end.)

When I finished watching this film, I thought: wow, what a task this was to make, especially since the history of Deaf President Now is so little known beyond the Deaf community. Nyle DiMarco and Davis Guggenheim had many decisions to make, in bringing this story to a broader audience with little exposure to deaf-focused issues, in America or elsewhere. (Alas, this is still the task of much deaf-related storytelling once it enters a mainstream setting.)

Now on to some more brief observations: like others have said, I would have loved to see this film as a limited series that included more perspectives and stories beyond the four main student leaders, all of whom came from multigenerational deaf families and white, signing-fluent backgrounds. I also would have liked to see more from other students and voices, particularly to add to a still-too-one-dimensional understanding of the Deaf community and its usual issues.

But once again: alas. This is also an issue that plagues much deaf-focused storytelling: any book (or film or whatever) is expected to say it all. To represent everyone, since representation is still so slight, so limited.

As in many other things, I’m inclined to embrace a spirit of both/and: I was thrilled to see this film, especially in a major streaming outlet. Seeing the insights of the Deaf President Now four onscreen was dynamic and compelling. Their signed recollections were rich and evocative, and I loved how the signed interviews took up so much space onscreen, insisting on full attention from the viewers. The immediacy, drama, and urgency of ASL was so present, which gave the film a nice sense of pacing and tension. I learned a lot just from seeing the amazing original footage the filmmaking team unearthed, as well as from reenacted settings that included so much throwback technology and communication practices. (1980s-era TTYs! Wow!) I understood more of the dynamics involved at Gallaudet, from the film’s well-paced day-by-day explorations of how events unfolded in March 1988.

And I also hope to see more expansions upon this work in the future, more stories and historical explorations that include more different perspectives. One film can only do so much, and from a narrative standpoint I understand why DiMarco and Guggenheim made the decisions they did, to give this current documentary its tight focus and sense of human interest and momentum. I hope this one helps immerse more viewers in the rich history and perspectives of the Deaf community.

To close, and for fun, a shot from one of my first visits to Gallaudet, when I was in my late 20s. Always an iconic place. I felt proud of my Gallaudet deaf forebears while watching this film, and that’s something special.

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Now, on the note of narrative and ongoing decisions about craft and storytelling, closing with some other assorted news:

I’ve been having fun in recent weeks as the production process on my book ramps up, including perusing final page design PDFs and having some juicy discussions with my editorial team about the audiobook version and so forth (!!). Lots to say there about multimodality and different forms of reading, as well as about collaborating with other people to make a long-awaited vision come to life. It’s honestly been so fascinating, delightful, and rewarding.

So yes, publication time is approaching soon! I’ll write more on this in a future newsletter, but for now please feel free to share this Substack around if you’re so inclined.

And if you’re on social media, feel free to give my new public writer Instagram a follow here. Existing friends of mine know that I haven’t wanted to live life for the ’gram for several years now (no thank you), but I’ll use this as another spot to post public book-related news as my fall launch date draws closer. No posts yet, but there will be some down the road, even if I sense that this Substack will continue to be my go-to spot for the more reflective thoughts I enjoy most.

Thanks as ever for the support — and go watch Deaf President Now! Chime in below with any thoughts about that fateful week at Gallaudet, whether you’re new to this history or not.