Tremmel Watson (pictured left, with his CART provider, Norma Rease) is a 33-year old disability assistive technology consultant based in Sacramento, Calif., who is a deaf individual who primarily communicates in English and uses CART (Communications Access Realtime Translation) instead of sign language. He recently reached out to NCRA to share his story to help close a gap he sees in representation for non-signers like himself.
“I believe we need stronger advocacy for CART services to ensure accessibility for all deaf individuals,” he wrote. “I am passionate about this cause and would like to know if there are opportunities to support NCRA’s efforts in advocating for CART users. As someone directly impacted, I believe my experience could contribute to advancing this conversation and improving services for others like me. My journey through deafness has shaped my purpose: To advocate for accessibility, equity, and connection for those navigating similar paths. Organizations like Global Alliance of Speech-to-Text Captioning have empowered me as a consumer advocate through its leadership in advancing captioning for all stakeholders.”
The JCR Weekly thought it only appropriate that we share Watson’s story as we approach NCRA’s Court Reporting & Captioning Week as a way to further validate the important services stenographic captioners and CART providers offer to members of the deaf and hard-of-hearing communities. We encourage everyone to share Watson’s story during this week of celebration and more.
The day my world went silent
My journey to complete hearing loss began with a childhood pool accident that caused gradual hearing decline. By the time I fully experienced silence five years ago, I had used hearing aids, but they accelerated the loss. With amplified sounds, my brain adapted quickly, hastening the natural decline in my hearing. I was offered cochlear implants, but the thought of brain surgery and its risks led me to fully embrace deafness. That choice was my turning point, leading me toward advocacy.
The glow stick parable: Finding purpose through breaking
There’s a story of a glow stick needing to be cracked to shine. That story resonated with me. Losing my hearing felt like I was breaking, but through that experience, I found purpose. Like the glow stick, I began to shine brighter as I pushed for accessibility and connection through CART. What once felt like an ending became a beginning — one where I advocate for others walking similar paths.
Affirming my voice
Deafness taught me that disability isn’t a weakness — it’s a source of strength. Instead of limits, I see opportunities to rise and adapt. What others consider barriers, I view as chances to break through and turn differences into assets. My experiences with deafness have taught me resilience, and they’ve empowered me to advocate for spaces where communication needs are valid, voices are heard, and inclusion is the standard.
Lip-reading isn’t enough
Many assume lip-reading is an easy solution, but even skilled lip readers only catch about 30-45 percent of words. It’s like playing charades — guesswork that often leads to missed information. For me, especially in settings like healthcare, CART’s realtime accuracy is essential. It provides clarity where lip-reading leaves gaps.
The everyday utility of ASR
Automatic Speech Recognition (ASR) has its flaws, but it’s a tool I use daily. When I struggle to understand someone, my phone becomes my bridge: I open the Notes app, turn on the microphone, and ASR transcribes their words. It’s not perfect — ASR struggles with accents, overlapping conversations, poor enunciation, and background noise. It often confuses terms like “ADA” with “88.” Still, ASR is a valuable resource when CART isn’t available. While imperfect, it helps me stay connected when I need it most.
Invisible disabilities: Navigating perceptions
Disabilities aren’t always visible. When I use ASL, people immediately recognize I’m deaf, but when I speak clearly — something I learned growing up hearing — my deafness becomes invisible. I’ve noticed that when I’m non-verbal, people are more patient and understanding, as if silence validates my experience. But when I use my voice, that understanding often disappears. This isn’t unique to me; many people with invisible disabilities face similar assumptions every day. Just because someone appears “fine” doesn’t mean their challenges disappear. True accessibility requires empathy and recognition that disabilities often exist beyond what can be seen.
Deafness taught me that disability isn’t a weakness — it’s a source of strength. Instead of limits, I see opportunities to rise and adapt. What others consider barriers, I view as chances to break through and turn differences into assets.
The overlooked non-signers and the need for CART awareness
Not all deaf individuals use ASL fluently, myself included. As a late-deafened person, I rely on CART because English is my first language. However, many organizations automatically default to ASL interpreters, and in my experience, a lot of people don’t even know what CART captioning is. This lack of awareness creates unnecessary barriers. I want to raise visibility for CART, educate the general public about its importance, and influence event organizers to provide captions as a standard accommodation.
When CART isn’t immediately available, delays in communication leave people like me — and many other deaf or hard-of-hearing individuals — excluded from critical conversations. True accessibility means providing tools that meet the specific communication needs of everyone, whether they rely on captions, ASL, or other forms of support.
Why “hearing impaired” is offensive
The term “hearing impaired” reduces me to a problem that needs fixing. Deafness isn’t about what’s missing — it’s about how I experience the world. Terms like “deaf” and “hard of hearing” honor who we are without framing us as broken. Language matters because it shapes identity and pride.
Systemic barriers
Remote captioning often replaces in-person services due to barriers like HIPAA (The Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act), NDAs (non-disclosure agreements), or logistics. While remote options work, they lack the depth of in-person captioning, where body language and tone provide vital context. Unfortunately, access to in-person services is declining, especially outside of education.
When ASR sails: The need for human captioners
At a critical OB-GYN appointment, ASR failed to capture my doctor’s accent and fast speech. It reinforced what I already knew: Human captioners pick up subtleties ASR misses, like tone and speaker distinctions. Yet, securing in-person captioners for short appointments remains a challenge, especially as remote work grows.
CART: More than just words
In a critical healthcare meeting, CART gave me more than words — it captured tone and nuance, allowing me to fully understand my situation. CART provides equity in spaces where precision matters most, ensuring nothing is lost in translation.
The future of CART: Building confidence through access
CART isn’t just an accessibility tool — it’s a lifeline to confidence, connection, and inclusion. Expanding access to CART means making sure no one gets left out of fully participating in society. But to make that happen, CART consumers need a voice at the table. Our lived experiences bring the real insight needed to build solutions that work for everyone.
Conclusion
Living with deafness has shown me that true inclusion goes beyond technology. Every communication gap I’ve faced reminds me of the policies and actions needed to ensure accessibility becomes a reality. My mission is to ensure both signers and non-signers are fully respected and included. CART is more than a service — it’s a platform for connection, empowerment, and equity. By driving policies that include impacted individuals, we can ensure no one is left behind.
NCRA would like to thank Mr. Watson for reaching out and sharing his story and insights into the powerful impact CART captioning has had on his life. He can be reached at tremmelwatson5@gmail.com.
Tremmel Watson and his CART provider, Norma Rease.
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