We. Are. Tree. By Leah Monson

ClICK HERE for a transcript oF LEah's INTRO in ENGLISH

My roots are mother father deaf. 

They are intertwined with history, stories, oppression, barriers and rich language. They are a gift that bonds me with individuals around the world who share my “otherness.” My roots are my hands-up language, my long Sundays at church that inevitably turned into midnight potlucks, the facial expressions I can never hide even if I tried. They are all the grunts & giggles that I love to hear and mirror. My roots are the core of who I am & where I come from. 

My trunk is the generation before me. 

The ones who bore burdens before legal intervention. Before the internet and before social media. This generation helped build me, I hope they know that I am grateful. I know they wear scars that I don’t see. Some of them were peers among my parents, who saw things I will never know, who walked with my parents in the lowest of lows. My trunk is the steady confidence that I am not alone.

My branches are like me.

90’s & millenia babes who were born into a richness we may never fully grasp. My branches are mostly like me, craving to hold close what I know means the world, while the world tries to tell me otherwise. My otherness is not understood by many, but it is understood by you. Some are big and some are small. Some are only now understanding what this coda world is all about, some are coming back after some time away and some have stayed through it all. Some are like me, desperate to never forget the feeling in my soul when my hands move silently, my face wildly and my heart loudly. 

My twigs are the pokes and progress I have yet to process. 

My twigs are the reminders that I have fine tuning to do and that there is room for growth. Even though it can be a little painful, there is a purpose. The healing and fruition is coming, even if at times, I can’t remember.

My leaves are the culmination of the beauty that is me & you. 

Dark to light and all the shades in between. All beautiful and valuable. The colors of my leaves are the different nations that come together as one. All our growth spurred from pain and beauty. The colors of my leaves are the different colors of you. 
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For you see, that is you, and that is me.  We. Are. Tree.