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If you can’t make a correlation between a golf tournament and a domestic/sexual violence help center, you’ve probably never heard of Deaf Hope – or haven’t been following DeafNation website since its’ website launched.  
 
However, those that have been around since early 2004 will know that a tight-knit bond exists between the Barish brothers and Deaf Hope Executive Director Julie Rems-Smario. Forging the relationship five years ago back when the two organizations were virtually unknown, Rems-Smario counted on the generous hand of DeafNation, who served as one of the non-profit’s biggest cheerleaders. It was also five years ago when DeafNation sponsored Deaf Hope’s first charity golf tournament, spouting so much success that it quickly became an annual event, attracting not only community members but many philanthropic golf-lovers, who participate and donate to help the organization provide for abused and battered women in need of assistance.  
 
Pulling up into the Sunol Valley Golf Club, where the “Tee Away Violence!” 5th Annual Golf Charity Tournament was being held, Darryl and Ruz wasted no time preparing for their participation in the tournament, while Erica and I stayed behind, hoping to catch Rems-Smario for an interview. While waiting, we looked around the sponsor tent. Behind the Deaf Hope booth were wooden-shaped silhouettes, ornate with collage-like decoration. Wandering over to get a closer look, I saw a shadow fall near me. I wasn’t the only curious one; Erica peered over my shoulder, the artwork catching her eye, too.  
 
”What’s this?,” I signed to myself as my eyes fell across words — “stabbed”, “killed”, and — perhaps most chilling — the date of someone’s death. As Erica and I continued to read, the purpose of the art became startlingly clear: the silhouettes were made by either friends or family of the murdered victim, who was abused — and later killed — by an angry lover or husband. Photos of the smiling victims are glued onto the wood, as well as letters from friends and family tearfully recalling the good times they shared, the regrets they had for not interfering earlier, and the promises that the deceased would never be forgotten.   
 
I looked over at Erica, who turned to me at the same time.  
 
”Wow,” she signed slowly. “I can’t imagine.” 
 
It was mere minutes later when Rems-Smario breezed into the tent.  After greeting her employees warmly – in one case, squeezing one very pregnant woman tight, pulling away to tell her she looked “positively radiant”, and moments turning around to thankfully exclaim to another for bringing breakfast sweets – Erica and I introduced ourselves.

An half-hour later, we were sipping cold drinks in the California heat. I was anxious to get to the interview, having a slew of questions ready. I had heard nothing but rave reviews about the non-profit organization, having had friends who worked under Rems-Smario for an internship or a full-time job.But I wanted to hear it from the Director herself: what exactly does Deaf Hope do, and what is their latest project?

Rems-Smario beamed, without a doubt proud of her organization. Deaf Hope, Rems-Smario explained, has the mission of “…end[ing] domestic and sexual violence against Deaf women and children through empowerment, education and services”, offering information, referrals, peer counseling, case management and systems advocacy for Deaf survivors. “Like ASADV?,” I asked, referring to the Advocacy Services for Abused Deaf Victims of Rochester, New York. Rems-Smario nodded — they were sister organizations, with Rems-Smario having gone through “boot camp” with the likes of Mary Mowl and Vicki Hurwitz of ASADV, whom DeafNation interviewed in the very beginning of the road trip. 
 
And Deaf Hope’s biggest project to date? Sorting the logistics of their new Deaf space, which will serve as an escape for victims of domestic and sexual abuse. Because many women find retreat from abuse in shelters — and stay for an extended period of time — Deaf women often leave after not even two days, returning to their attackers. The reasons? Communication barriers and the overwhelming sense of loneliness they experience from being at a shelter full of hearing women, unable to relate with each other, despite having the same experiences.

Plans are well underway for the shelter, which include apartment complexes, a centralized building with meeting rooms, private alcoves, high-tech security systems, mediating spaces and zen areas in the gardens, and a warm, open-spaced kitchen specifically designed with the Deaf woman in mind. Everything is incredibly Deaf-friendly: placement of windows and lights, and the architecture of entire house is based on openness and healing, on clarity and warmth. “This will be a safe place for women — all women,” Rems-Smario stressed.  
 
Later in the night, after the golf tournament, there was a buffet-style dinner, where friends sat amongst love and caring, leg-to-leg with philanthropists and those fiercely loyal to the organization. After introducing the Board and a few other key people, there was a cake auction, where homemade and bakery-style cakes were auctioned off to fundraise money for the new center. Bids flew, and well over a thousand dollars was raised. Donations were also slipped into Rems-Smario’s hand, and tight hugs and grateful thank-yous were given in exchange. An architect also came to speak on the specific plans of the center, with the Director herself hearing the plans for the first time as well!

There is a quote on the Deaf Hope website: “I aspire to leave the world a better place going out than when I came in.”

Maybe it’s Barak Obama’s influence. Maybe the DeafNation crew is having great luck, meeting nothing but incredible people. But Deaf Hope has concreted one thing: the audacity of hope is well and alive from coast to coast. From those in Austine who, despite dwindling numbers in enrollment, continue to provide top-notch education; to Nebraska, where despite losing their Deaf institute, continues to preserve the Deaf community that so vibrantly exists in Omaha; and to Deaf Hope, where despite witnessing the ruins of abuse — and at times, the face of death — the organization holds on to the everlasting faith that one day, we will overcome hatred and malevolence…

…and that instead of hoping, we can be living what we’ve hoped for.