Grab the Lapels

I Was Number 87 by Anne M. Bolander, with Adair N. Renning

Welcome to National Deaf History Month! It runs through April, and during this time, I’ll be sharing posts about books by or in collaboration with Deaf, deaf and hard of hearing people.

Whew, that’s three terms: Hard of hearing, deaf, and Deaf! I’ll be using all three throughout April. Click this link to see what each word means according to Dr. Bill Vicars, Deaf professor of ASL and juggernaut of the internet. It’s worth it to educate yourself!

My goal is to introduce you to different lived experiences. We like to think that minority groups are all the same, but keep in mind that just as they say in the autism community, “If you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person,” and that applies to D/deaf people, too.

I’ll also add in some perspective from what I’ve learned in an Interpreter Training Program about Deaf culture where appropriate.

Last week, I shared a biography of Laura Redden Searing, which included many of her poems categorized by theme. This week, I want to highlight a harrowing memoir of what happened when deaf children were miscategorized as “retarded,” and how that label could change their lives forever. Here is your warning that the following post does discuss and describes child abuse.

My copy of I Was Number 87 is a black hardcover library edition, so I had not seen the author’s photo until I found this cover on Google images. The memoir opens with a preface by Adair N. Renning, who met Anne M. Bolander, the author, many years ago. Going forward, I will refer to the author as Anne not because she is not worthy of our respect, but because the memoir is so personal, thus readers feel close to her. At the time of Renning and Anne’s meeting, Anne was writing the story of her life and had requested friends to help her organize it. However, most took it home, kept it for a while, then returned it, unorganized, sometimes a year later. However, after meeting Renning, Anne decided she would give her binder full of notebook paper over to a virtual stranger after agreeing Renning would keep the binder only two weeks before helping or giving it back.

Because much of Anne’s early life was devastated by the people who ran an institution she lived in, Renning had to fact check Anne’s memory. Other former inmates were able to confirm not only Anne’s version of events at the “Stoutamyre School for Special Education,” but that they remembered Anne, too. To really get an accurate manuscript, Renning asked Anne questions about her life for almost two years; however, Anne’s hearing loss was undiagnosed, meaning no one knew she was deaf. If you don’t have language, it can be nearly impossible to remember what you didn’t have words for, so some time is lost to Anne’s “pre-language” days.

Anne M. Bolander was born in 1954, long before the U.S. established mandatory hearing screenings for newborn infants. She never knew her birth mother, but her father remarried a vicious woman. Anne refers to her father and step-mother as Warren and Pat, which tells you a lot and creates a distance between the author and her parents. In a tale as old as time, Pat did not like the children who came into the marriage, favoring her own instead.

Anne was seen as a troublemaker who didn’t mind adults, so she bounced to a grandparent’s house, then back home, and then to the Stoutamyre School for Special Education. The word “school” is an outright lie when the children were not taught, and even punished for talking at any hour. This is one of the hardest parts of the memoir to read. Anne was six years old and had no idea what her name was. She was labeled #87, and that’s how she thought of herself. The children had strict rules, such as pulling their chairs out perfectly to a black line on the floor where it stayed while they ate. They ate in unison, they expressed no emotion, they did not look at each other. They were put in line to use the bathroom a limited number of times per day and could not use it outside these limits.

Any infraction led to beatings, which were sometimes being whipped with their pants down, and sometimes it was naked, strapped by the ankles and wrists to a table. Another punishment was tying children upright in a chair and being left in it all night. Some were locked in a cellar for days without food where it was obvious they had used one corner as a bathroom. Finally, someone from an agency tested all the children, and when they realized Anne was not “retarded,” she had to leave the institution, much to Pat’s disgust.

Because she spent five years not looking at or connecting with anyone, not even having a teddy bear or using the bathroom when she needed it, Anne returned home a complete alien. Her family could not understand why she would lift the rug in her room and pee under it (because she could only use the bathroom if #86 had just finished, and there was no more #86), or defecate under the bed, or why she ate so awkwardly, searching the floor for a line to put her chair on. Angry, Pat beat Anne mercilessly. Warren knew and assisted at times. Later, when Anne is an adult, Warren assaults her, and she is spiraled into depression and suicidal thoughts.

Eventually, when Anne was moved to a school run by nuns, she found love from the sisters, and it was discovered Anne couldn’t hear. As time passed, Pat was angry that Anne was happy and removed her from the school, but Anne’s family denied she had hearing loss. They demanded she stop faking it for attention, something that continued through Anne’s life. They took her hearing aids away from her.

For much of Anne’s life she is told she cannot succeed because she’s simply “retarded,” but she did find have a good-paying job and bought her own mobile home. But, because she was poorly socialized, Anne was an easy target for abusive “friends” who took her money or ditched their kids with her, moved in and destroyed everything, or signed her checks over to themselves. This happened more that you would think possible, but Anne didn’t understand people.

One climactic moment was when Anne paid a good deal of money to be tested at a college to see if she truly was “retarded.” She tested with above average intelligence and found a sense of pride from knowing her family, and the Stoutamyer school, were wrong about her. She visited the old school, and most of it was rubble. As she aged, Anne told her family she was writing her life story, and most seemed nervous, showing the unease in their faces. Lastly, Anne visited the school with the nuns and found one of the women who had cared for her generously thirty years before, ending the memoir on a good memory.

Overall, Anne M. Bolander’s memoir shows that hearing people have been controlling deaf people for a long time. I Was Number 87 is not about finding a Deaf community and Deaf identity, like so many memoirs are. Instead, it exists in a space during which deaf people didn’t have proof that ASL was an actual language (that happened in 1965) or that Deaf people have their own culture (also 1965). Bolander’s book talks specifically about undiagnosed deafness, but is also a warning for how society treated, and in some ways still treats, people with disabilities.

42 comments

  1. That’s a terrible story. People use their authority over children in the most unimaginable ways and yet you hear it over and over again. We use these stories as an excuse for not putting children (and dependent adults) in institutions then ignore the fact they are abused in the community, in group living and by ‘carers.’ I don’t know what the answer is, but surely it should begin with listening to, taking notice of the children, not just taking the word of the adults in charge.

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    • This sounds egotistical, but I hope the solution is people like me. I don’t have kids, and I don’t want kids. However, I am VERY protective over them because they ARE so vulnerable. It’s taken ages to get people to trust that I know how to care for children, and that I will defend them, just because I don’t have my own at home. By bringing in more trustworthy adults who understand what a vulnerable population is, and not cutting out adults who don’t have children, I think we could make inways.

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  2. Wow, you were right. This IS harrowing. Just reading your review had me in tears and so upset for her and the countless other people who’ve been through similar treatment. It’s insane sometimes to think how short of a time ago it was that this was the norm to treat people with different disabilities like this. There’s still plenty of room for improvement in the field as a whole, but I’m so thankful we’ve moved away from this sort of openly-encouraged/accepted neglect and abuse. Her miserable POS parents failed her in every single way, as did the system and those who dared to call themselves her friends later on. And for her to finally find happiness and have it snatched away by her vile step mother just because… I felt absolute rage. I can’t imagine the emotional rollercoaster you were on reading this.

    When my brother was diagnosed with autism in the 80’s my grandma’s cousin thought he would and should go into an institution and my grandma was appalled and stopped talking to him. Later on, he had his own grandkid who was also diagnosed with autism and he suddenly changed his tune from what I’ve heard. It never ceases to blow my mind how little compassion and empathy so many people have until it somehow becomes something they themself experience. *shakes head*

    Excellent review, and I’m so glad you shared Anne’s story. ❤ I would like to read this one day, even though I’m sure I’ll ugly cry through just about the whole thing.

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    • I definitely cried in parts, such as the children not being allowed to hug or look at each other, or the volunteers who brought teddies for all the children only for the owner of the institution to take the teddies and destroy them. Recently, in my Advanced Deaf Studies class, we were talking about how Deaf and hearing children will play in similar ways, but when they get wound up and cause a raucous, as children do, Deaf children are often called animals.

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    • As an adult she had a couple that sort of mentored her, but as she aged, it became a more difficult situation, I think because she wanted to be independent but was socially very DEpendent.

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  4. Oh my goodness, that Anne was able to get a good job, make a life for herself and write a memoir says a lot about her strength and resiliency, but blimey! No one should have a life like that. I’m astonished no one figured out she was deaf before she was tested at an older age. How could you not notice something like that? Seems the adults in her life were willingly malicious and cruel and it’s too bad they were never made accountable for that.

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    • I’m guessing her “misbehaving” because she couldn’t hear instructions made people think she was “retarded,” and at the institution the children were not cared for, so she didn’t have a test until later. Then, her parents said she was faking deafness for attention and took her hearing aids away.

      Are you still blogging? I haven’t received an email about any new posts from you in ages.

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      • So many horrible things because of adults!

        Yup, still blogging. When I changed blog host servers in January the subscription list went kablooey and I didn’t know it until it was too late. Now hosted at WordPress, same address, and there’s an email subscription thingy on the bottom right of the page 🙂

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  5. What a horrendous story. Hard to believe that things like these – the school in particular – was happening in the (as we thought) progressive 1960s. But we know, from other memoirs too, that it happened. I’m almost astonished that she managed to make it to a sane adulthood and could write a book, but presumably the memoir also tells us that?

    This ‘If you don’t have language, it can be nearly impossible to remember what you didn’t have words for, so some time is lost to Anne’s “pre-language” days.’ Never thought about that before.

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    • I reviewed a book about a young interpreter whose early work was with deaf adults who had no language, and eventually she got this man in his late twenties to understand what language even IS. That’s the hard part–this sound or mouth shape equals these marks on the paper equals this thing in real life. Once he learned language, he started to re-process everything he knew and put it into context. His whole world changed.

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  6. This sounds so hard to read. I’ve just finished a memoir of a residential school survivor who was also given a number. I really struggle to understand how anyone could treat another human being this way but especially a child. I might look for this book but I think for the moment I need a break from this kind of book.

    This has also made me realize how much I took for granted the newborn hearing tests that get done now. It was such a quick simple test in the hospital after birth that I never really thought about what a difference that kind of early screening can make.

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    • Part of the issue from before hearing tests were routine is the parents thought their child hear for years, meaning they missed all those early language years. It can put children behind or they can be misdiagnosed. Deaf parents are often excited when their children “fail” the hearing test because they want children who are like they are, something that hearing people often find upsetting. Why would you want your child to be “disabled,” they ask. Deaf people who are immersed in Deaf culture, the Deaf community, and use ASL do not see themselves as disabled.

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      • I realize there are a lot more resources now but it’s still hard to comprehend that it could take so long to recognize that a child couldn’t hear. When Pearl wasn’t hitting all her speech markers at 18 months, we tested her hearing again. And now testing as part of the pre-K health stuff is standard too. Parenting is easier and simpler the more you and your child have in common, I think, so it makes sense that Deaf parents might welcome a Deaf child. They know the culture and how to approach the world as a Deaf person. Raising a hearing child would be like me trying to raise a French child. I could try but I could only do it as an outsider.

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        • I love the way you’ve thought about what it is like to be a hearing person raising a deaf child! I was always surprised that hearing parents went right from “my child is deaf” to “obviously my child needs surgery.” If your baby was born French, and you knew she would never learn English, you’d learn French now, wouldn’t you? I once read that the deaf experience is more similar to the immigrant experience, as opposed to being like other people who have disabilities. Immigrants have a different culture and language, and they never quite fit into mainstream American society 100%. That is what is like to be Deaf.

          What did they find out about Pearl? Was she just not a talker? My brother didn’t want to talk to anyone. On the opposite side, I talked up a storm but couldn’t walk. Turns out, I had no motivation to walk because my big brother would bring me everything. Also, I hated grass and would not walk barefoot outside, lol.

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  8. As I was writing that comment I realized that the children of immigrants might be the best comparison. Parents raising kids who are living in an entirely different culture. That’s a hard thing to do but ideally the parents can recognize that their kids will have a different experience. And those kids inevitably grow up straddling two cultures.

    I took Pearl to a speech therapist before she turned 2 and it was really fascinating actually. At that age she didn’t have a lot of words but she communicated with gestures and sounds a lot and the therapist said that, combined with the words she did have, counted for her age. For example, Pearl patted a chair and said “mama”, clearly requesting me to sit on it. That’s communication in the same way as if she had said, “Mama, sit.” The ability to put those two ideas together is primarily what they look for at that age and Pearl had that. Basically she just took her time and nothing larger was the matter. Rose was the same way but we never pursued any speech therapy because we knew better than what to look for and felt comfortable with her development.

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    • I studied linguistics last year, and we talked about the age at which they can put together a person and a thing and use very few words to make a command. Studying linguistics was pretty cool in general, though I disagreed with some of the assignments!

      Yes, what you said about the immigrant experience is what I mean for sure. It makes so much more sense to see Deaf people like immigrants than disabled people. I just read an article about how the disability label has historically been pushed onto dead people. Basically, where society lacks space, it decides that makes someone disabled. It was a scary article that included a lot of eugenics and forced abortions and sterilizations.

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      • Weirdly, eugenics has come up in the last 2 books I’ve been reading, one fiction and one non. It’s actually shocking how subtly the ideas of eugenics can come in to play. That idea of deciding whose life is valuable and who is “disabled” is pretty scary and yet we do it quite casually in many small ways.

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        • The more I learn about Alexander Graham Bell, the more I’m appalled by the extent to which he supported eugenics. Not that being “a little bit into eugenics” is a thing or okay, but he was campaigning. He actually self-published a book and then presented it like it was a scientifically-sanctioned document.

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          • It’s so jarring to go from “He invented the telephone” to “He thought certain people should die” and yet this is not the first I’ve heard about AGB. And unfortunately the fact that he so boldly shared these ideas probably means he had support.

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  9. Ugh the treatment this woman endured is just so heartbreaking to read about. I think some other commenters have mentioned here how similar this sounds to the Indian Residential Schools in Canada, just absolutely inhumane treatment. It’s incredible she was able to make a life for herself after all that trauma…

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    • What I don’t understand is a lot of the religious organizations that take in children (“take in” or kidnap) claim their goal is to civilize those children and teach them about god. However, this woman ran a “school” and wouldn’t let the children even look at each other. They definitely were not learning. What was her end goal? I think she was getting money from the parents to keep the kids. But what kind of life was the owner of the “school” living just beating and humiliating and controlling children all day? That has to be some kind of mental illness gone amok.

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  11. Oof, this sounds absolutely brutal and yet such an important aspect of history to acknowledge. Hard to believe that as recently as the 50’s-60’s these “schools” that surely benefitted no one were still going strong. I’m glad Bolander had a chance to share her story in the end. Thanks for highlighting it.

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