Terry Galloway, a deaf queer writer/performer/activist who writes, performs and agitates. Her solo performances have been produced in venues ranging from the American Place Theater in NYC to the Zap Club in Brighton England. She works as a community artist/activist and co-founded a series of theaters in Austin Texas and Tallahassee Florida promoting original work by members of marginalized communities. The Ugly Girl, her queer/disability themed musical, debuted at DaDaFest in Liverpool and toured the UK. Her memoir, Mean Little Deaf Queer was published by Beacon Press. Her work has garnered awards from, among others, the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, the Texas Institute of Letters, the National Endowment for the Arts and the Florida Division of Cultural Affairs.
We’ve all kept things to ourselves while we figure them out. And often, the figuring has most to do with how to negotiate our peculiarities in a hostile world. As a child, Galloway was confronted with a number of circumstances that caused her silent contemplation. Now that she has a few things figured out, she’s telling the story. And the ways she’s navigated the shames and epiphanies of her early life will prompt you to see your own social negotiations more clearly too.
Annie Dearest is a video parody of the classic film The Miracle Worker, which originally stared Patty Duke as deaf/blind Helen Keller and Anne Bancroft as Anne Sullivan, Helen's mentor and tormentor. Disability World heralded Annie Dearest as one of the 25 most outstanding disability films . . . in the last five years.
Three months ago I heard my mother's voice for the first time since I was nine. When I first heard her voice I said, "Mom! You have a Texas accent!" All those years of reading her lips and I had never really known that. We both laughed ourselves sick.
When she was six months pregnant with me, she'd been given an antibiotic that saved both our lives, but left me with a chemical imbalance that insidiously ate away at my hearing.
PEG, a woman in her later years, has spent the last half of her life endlessly revising "The Ugly Girl," a musical written to avenge the death of her adolescent love. She believes her play to be a tragedy of atonement. In reality, it's an inadvertently comic mix of vaudeville, Punch and Judy, melodrama, and English music hall—in short, a tragedy in burlesque. Her four daughters INGA, BOAZ, JINX, and WARK and her boarder/lover SCHULTZ have felt compelled—once happily but now reluctantly—to enact Peg's 'masterpiece' through every stage of it's development.
And I am back online. Yeah! I thought you guys would think that this is kind of fun and cheery, kind of like cans on the back of a car after a wedding, you know, but I can see that a lot of you just think it's really irritating, so I'll take it off, okay. I love sound. I hate silence. Now that I don't have to put up with it. Now that I don't have to romanticize it. Now that I don't have to write things like I did in my memoir. "There is a kind of peace in the silence."