Not quite seeing or hearing artist Terry Galloway ambled through early childhood with mixed emotions. On one end, she was arrogant. In fact, she would even describe herself as “a little shit,” yet she also sought physical approval from the people around her.

“My deafness,” she said, “even before it was diagnosed, made me cleave more to others for a reassurance that I wasn’t quite aware I needed.”

When Galloway was 10 years old, doctors discovered she had a chemical imbalance caused by the introduction of drugs to the fetal nervous system, a result of medication her mother took while Galloway was in the womb. Ultimately, the reaction to the treatment left her deaf and with limited eyesight.

“I was saddled with glasses and hearing aids, and my deafness manifested itself then as a savage insecurity,” she said.

“I was mainstreamed,” Galloway, 68, continued, “and grew up not knowing any other kids who were deaf or Deaf. My own deafness, and my budding, constantly churning sexuality, made me feel warmer toward the kids with their own problems — kids who liked to dress differently, kids who were poor, kids who were too fucking smart for their own good, kids who felt uncertain about their sexualities, kids with disabilities — both hidden and visible. I identified with those odd ducks. When I was in my late teens, I met some other kids who were ‘big D’ Deaf. I admired the hell out of them, but they frightened me a little — they were tough. But then, they had to be.”

In her book, Galloway explained big D Deaf.

“There is a definite hierarchy in that deaf culture,” she writes. “If you are deaf of deaf — a deaf person born to deaf parents — and your language is Sign and the company you keep is primarily deaf, you are Deaf with a capital D.”

With plenty of experiences to draw from, Galloway plunged herself into the arts, and just like many young people with disabilities in the late 1960s, she faced a lot of discrimination.

“When I was graduating from high school, the guidance counselor was advising all my friends who were in the Thespians of the Scarlet Mask to apply for Yale, or UCLA, or any college that had a decent drama department,” she said. “But when I walked in the door, he took one look at me and said, ‘Oh, you’re the one.’ And handed me a brochure that read, errors and all: ‘Factory work make good job for deaf.'”

Like many LGBTQ and disabled people of that time, Galloway carved her own path into the arts. With the help of friends, she sought out or created spaces that would welcome people like her.

“Places with people who didn’t think of me as a waste of time because I couldn’t hear or talked with a kind of muffled lisp,” she said. “And from there I started to write pieces that spoke to the experiences of people like me — that’s when I started doing my solo shows.”

In 2009, Galloway published her memoir, “Mean Little deaf Queer,” which has become a cult classic among people with disabilities. Celebrated lesbian author Dorothy Allison called it “a damn fine piece of work that is unbelievably powerful.” Author Kenny Fries included it in his article on LitHub titled “8 Books That Move Disability from the Margins to the Center.”

“She gives us what we are rarely given in literature: a fully dimensional disabled person, warts and all,” Fries said.

Just a year after the release of her groundbreaking memoir, Galloway received a cochlear implant — a process not all deaf people are eligible for. And even Galloway herself was initially unsure it would work. The surgery allowed Galloway to gain significant hearing and her latest show, “You Are My Sunshine,” is about her experience of negotiating the world of sound.

Galloway identifies as being a “little d” deaf, omni-sexual, happily married, female-ish artist/activist. Along with her partner, Florida State University communication professor Donna Marie Nudd, Ph.D., she splits her time between Austin, Texas and Tallahassee, Florida.

The couple also co-directs the Mickee Faust Club — an arts nonprofit that creates performance opportunities for marginalized communities through workshops.

“I love Mickee Faust,” said Galloway. “I love playing the head rat, Mickee Faust, who is supposedly the sewer dwelling, cigar chomping, beer guzzling, foul mouthed, rat bastard brother of that other more famous unctuous rodent in Orlando.”

To learn more about the Mickee Faust Club, visit http://www.mickeefaust.com. To follow Galloway’s other projects, check out www.theterrygalloway.com.

Belo Cipriani: What made you want to start donating part of your book sales to LGBT youth?

Brandon Shire: I wanted to give something back to the LGBT community and realized that the best way to make an impact was to help those organizations helping the most vulnerable in our community, homeless LGBT kids. Estimates place almost 350,000 homeless LGBT kids on the street, but under 1,000 safe beds nationwide. This is insanity. While you’re reading this, check the temperature outside. Right now there’s a 14-year-old gay kid shivering in the cold just because he’s gay. No other reason. How much more impetus do we need to know that this reality has to change?

Belo: Which agency or agencies do you work with?

Brandon: I donate to two charities – Lost n Found Youth and Free2Be. They’re both great, local charities making a substantial impact in their communities.

Belo: What made you pick these particular agencies to work with?

Brandon: We did a lot of research before we chose, but the commitment I saw with these two organizations and the zealousness of the two founders, Rick Westbrook and James Robertson respectively, made the choice easy. Both of them have made a substantial impact with the organizations they created and it’s something I am very happy to donate to.

Belo: Do you use any special program to help you track the money you are donating? For example, an application tool through Amazon or other venders?

Brandon: We’ve run various charity drives through different fundraising services, like Razoo, and fans have aided the organizations through promotions and drives they set up in our Goodreads group, but most of the time we donate directly through PayPal, so we know that the funds go directly to the charities without any fees taken out. J, my biz partner, keeps the records.

Belo: Are all of your books donating to non profits?

Brandon: Yes, 10% of the sales of all my books are donated.

Belo: Will you continue to donate to non profits with future books?

Brandon: That’s a commitment we made from the start. Anything I publish in the future will also have a portion of the proceeds donated to LGBT youth charities.

Belo: What is your next book about?

Brandon: I’m taking a break right now. I have several works in progress, but nothing will be forthcoming until well into next year. The next book will look at a relationship between two gay musicians in Croatia. I’m also developing a story about a same-sex attraction with a youth who is also dealing with an N-Parent* and all the complications those two factors hold when combined. (*Narcissistic Personality Disorder)

Award-winning writer Brandon Shire is a distinct voice in contemporary gay fiction. A Buddhist and a gay parent, Mr. Shire has been writing for 15 years and has only recently begun to publish his work. Genres include contemporary gay fiction, m/m romance, horror, and science fiction. You can find him at brandonshire.com.

Who is Belo Cipriani?

Belo Cipriani is the Writer-in-Residence at Holy Names University, a spokesperson for Guide Dogs for the Blind, and the author of Blind: A Memoir. You are invited to connect with him on Facebook, Twitter, Google+ and YouTube.

Logo courtesy of @TheBrandonShire

One of the fun aspects of being a writer is meeting other writers. This past August while at Lambda, I met Allison Moon whose novel Lunatic Fringe about lesbian werewolves is being released today, September 29th 2011. She read excerpts while at Lambda and I have been eager to read the book ever since. Growing up in San Jose, I never imagined I would be attending a release party for a book that combined two of my favorite topics – queer life and werewolves. It is so cool to know the writers behind all the new kinds of literature that is surfacing today.

***Belo Cipriani is a freelance writer, speaker, and the author of Blind: A Memoir. Learn more at belocipriani.com.
NOTE: This article is available for reprint in magazines, periodicals, newsletters, newspapers, eZINEs, on the Internet or on your own website. To obtain permission and details contact info@belocipriani.com

I abandoned fiction, but was unable to break up with writing. Blogging about current events allowed me to disguise my words for journalism which I noticed everyone in my circle urged me to consider. I majored in Communication and enjoyed the writing process for the media curriculum, yet I still yearned for a creative outlet.

I was finally able to feed my craving in my graduate program. Workshopping felt familiar and I was inspired by all my classmates and teachers. However, the safety umbrella that served as a catalyst for my memoir was no longer there after I completed my masters. Unsure if there was a second book in me, I sought writing conferences and residencies. When I learned I was awarded the Lambda Literary Fellowship for emerging GLBT voices, a tiny heart beat began to ring in my ear. Ellery Washington who will be instructing the non-fiction cohort at the Lambda retreat asked the eight fellows to do some writing before arriving at the UCLA campus. Within a week of his email, I had started the skeleton for my second book

Madge and I will be heading out to the Oakland Airport to meet up with July Westhale, a Lambda Fellow in poetry. I have never been in the presence of so many talented GLBT writers before and for once, I will be a student at Unique U.

***Belo Cipriani is a freelance writer, speaker, and the author of Blind: A Memoir. Learn more at belocipriani.com.

NOTE: This article is available for reprint in magazines, periodicals, newsletters, newspapers, eZINEs, on the Internet or on your own website. To obtain permission and details contact info@belocipriani.com