Just some musings, by me. I can't quite match Terri's zen-like eloquence:
> There is no such thing as "pure" ASL
> But there surely is a thing: ASL
But all this has been percolating for a while. One of the things I think we try to do as interpreters, at least when we're at our best, is to see through mere denotation to find the connotation...
[Although sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. I'm not convinced that there's a special Deaf version of "transparency." Are the dealings of the NAD Board -- surely a Deaf institution par excellence -- any less opaque than the RID, the Frat (RIP), or AAAD? Now that is a dissertation waiting to happen.]
... and base our interpretation on that, should the Target culture not be able to immediately access it. The same thing applies to our interaction with our non-native culture, which for most of us here is American Deaf culture (itself a complex, multifaceted thing). For clarity's sake, I'll begin a different example. Time and again, I've heard clients express a preference for "English." Sometimes, they really do mean interpreting that hews close to the form of the spoken English original, preserving specific English terminology. Often, though, I've found that "English" means something more like, "I just want to understand, thank you. Please don't make me decode whatever jacked-up pastiche you've decided constitutes 'ASL.'"
That was for clarity's sake. Honest.
On to "Deaf Heart." I almost never hear this discussion amongst interpreters of other language pairs (whither "French Heart"?). One exception for me is Native American/Alaskan Native/First Nations people, for whom one's stance with respect to the culture is often central to the interaction (again, brevity forces me to be reductive; all I can do is acknowledge the massive complexity I've hidden and beg the reader's understanding). That Deb Russell started her talk with reference to Canadian First Nations as a bridge to acknowledging our field's indebtedness to the Deaf was telling.
Anyway, "Deaf Heart" strikes me as another complex code word like "English." One is an acknowledgment that RID as an organization, an we as a field, have wandered from our roots. There are those -- even on the Diversity Committee! -- who argue that this is a Good Thing, a natural consequence of professionalization (I can hear almost someone saying that surgeons don't cut hair, anymore, either). Another is that we need to include in our field's history, the contributions of the Deaf, as Nancy Bloch argued (although I would be less laudatory than her when it came to discussing the brain trust that gave us GLAD/CAD/NAD interpreter certification).
Really, however, for me all the discussion of "Deaf Heart" amounts to this: Okay, we Deaf people have left you interpreters alone for nigh on half a century; we've watched you detach yourselves in the name of professionalism; we've seen you run through an impenetrable alphabet soup of "scientific" certification... so why aren't you any better? Why do we not only have the same complaints, we have more of them?
You say "tomāto", I say "cultural and linguistic competence." If as a field, we delivered on the massive promissory note we wrote to the Deaf community, all this angst would evaporate, either because interpreters would do their jobs and fade into the background (no, we're not invisible, but you don't notice when things are working well, which is the way it should be), or because engaging with the Deaf is how we in fact become competent in the first place. Either way, the answer is "get smart(er)."
At least that's how I see it this afternoon.
Cheers,
-Dan.