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-February 28, 2025
-Amy Adams, Program Coordinator
-Museum of Deaf History, Art, and Culture
-455 E Park St​
-Olathe, KS 66061
-Dear Amy,
-When we stare into the night sky, each star tells a story - some burning bright with purpose, others
-finding new positions as their time in a particular formation evolves. Today, I must acknowledge that my
-star in the MDHAC constellation is shifting its orbit, no longer able to shine in the position it once held
-with such pride.
-The journey of a docent is like that of a sculptor, chiseling away at misconception until understanding
-emerges from the stone of ignorance. For years, I have carved pathways through the museum's halls,
-transforming everyday facts into transcendent experiences. Each tour became a living canvas where
-visitors could witness the vibrant brushstrokes of Deaf history painting itself before their eyes.
-My path with MDHAC officially began in 2018, during one of my darkest moments. After the election, I
-felt lost - dismissed - crushed. When someone from MDHAC invited me to sit at the front desk, I
-hesitated. Putting myself in public view again felt overwhelming, but it aligned with my passion for
-writing legal advocacy strategies on my laptop. I accepted, not realizing this small "yes" would
-transform my life's direction.
-Nearly a year later, when docent training opportunities arose through a partnership with Nelson-Atkins
-Museum of Art, my name wasn't on the candidate list. Yet somehow, as the person staffing the front
-desk, I was invited to participate as an unofficial candidate. I never intended to excel - in fact, I secretly
-hoped to perform poorly enough that I wouldn't be asked to lead tours. I worried the public wasn't ready
-for my perspectives on Deaf history and culture, which some considered too direct or intense.
-Then came that pivotal moment - giving a practice tour to volunteers from that same large museum.
-Something unexpected happened. These visitors resonated deeply with my authentic presentation of
-our Deaf history, perspectives, and visual way of experiencing the world. Their enthusiastic response,
-coupled with encouragement from the same person who first invited me to the front desk, convinced me
-to embrace this role I'd been avoiding.
-Now I stand at a crossroads. My work building Deaf leadership across the nation flows like a river that
-has outgrown its local banks and seeks broader horizons. This inner purpose draws me forward with
-the gravitational pull of countless stars, irresistible in its power.
-Meanwhile, the museum I once knew has transformed. Displays change without discussion, like
-paragraphs rewritten mid-story. The narrative I carefully constructed now contains segments I did not
-author, elements inserted without context, altering the story's very meaning. How can one tend a
-garden when the landscape itself shifts beneath one's hands?
-
-Within these walls now exists a subtle current of dismissal - not violent like a storm, but persistent like
-erosion. My contributions, once treasured insights, now seem to disappear into seas of indifference. In
-spaces where my perspectives once flourished, I now perceive only fading impressions.
-The displays I meticulously incorporated into my tours have been altered without consultation, creating
-a disconnect between my prepared narrative and the visual story now presented. It feels like watching a
-familiar landscape suddenly rearrange itself, making my carefully mapped journey impossible to follow.
-My work on the proclamation for governors to recognize our community - words I selected to transform
-perceptions from medical pathology to cultural celebration - was altered without discussion before its
-presentation. The revised document, stripped of nuanced language highlighting our visual-spatial
-intelligence and unique contributions to humanity, felt like watching a vibrant painting fade to muted
-tones. When we reshape the public narrative about our existence but find our own words rewritten, we
-lose the authentic perspective that makes advocacy powerful.
-This pattern of disconnect feels especially poignant given the deep historical ties between KAD and this
-museum. In the 1980s, KAD spearheaded crucial fundraising drives that helped transform MDHAC
-from vision into reality. Even the LaRosh Fund contributed directly to this museum's construction. That
-foundation of mutual support makes the current distance all the more striking - like two branches that
-once grew from the same trunk now bending in different directions.
-More recently, my research about local Deaf history and the LaRosh Fund scholarship hasn't received
-the acknowledgment I believed it deserved. Offering these insights feels like extending a hand in
-friendship only to find it remains unclasped.
-I've also experienced a growing discomfort in the museum atmosphere. Where I once freely shared my
-cultural knowledge, I now find myself constrained by an invisible boundary of judgment. The joy of
-cultural exchange has been overshadowed by the weight of unseen scrutiny. What once felt like fertile
-ground for authentic expression now feels like shallow soil where genuine contributions struggle to take
-root.
-Deafhood demands authenticity. It requires spaces where our truths can breathe without constraint.
-When research meets skepticism, when history is treated as malleable rather than sacred, when lived
-experience is subordinated to administrative convenience - these create rifts that widen with time.
-I've been fortunate to witness different styles of leadership during my time at MDHAC. In the past, the
-museum radiated a welcoming energy that made volunteers feel appreciated for their contributions
-rather than merely fulfilling obligations. The atmosphere fostered creativity, mutual respect, and genuine
-community building. Volunteers eagerly returned, knowing their passion for Deaf culture was valued
-above all else. This collaborative spirit has dimmed in recent months, replaced by an environment that
-treats freely given time as a commodity and passion as a resource to be managed. The contrast
-between these approaches is evident in how volunteers now select their days of service, gravitating
-toward times when their contributions are celebrated rather than merely extracted.
-
-The transformation in visitors' understanding when they grasp that being Deaf isn't about absence but
-presence - a vibrant way of experiencing the world through visual and spatial intelligence - has been
-the most rewarding aspect of my work.
-With this letter, I am formally withdrawing from my dedicated volunteer position as a docent tour guide
-at MDHAC. Like a meteor shower that transforms into individual shooting stars, each carrying wishes
-across the sky, my experiences here have scattered brilliant moments of connection that will illuminate
-paths I've yet to travel.
-I extend my deepest gratitude to everyone at MDHAC who provided the space for me to develop as a
-cultural ambassador. However, the current environment has become increasingly difficult for me to
-navigate. The dismissive treatment of my contributions, changes made to exhibits without consultation,
-and the uncomfortable atmosphere created by certain individuals have effectively pushed me away
-from the institution I once loved serving. These behaviors have transformed from occasional
-frustrations into a pattern that signals my full participation is no longer valued. While these experiences
-have shaped me profoundly, it's clear I must direct my energy where toxic interactions don't impede my
-ability to contribute meaningfully to our community's representation.
-My connection to our cultural heritage remains undiminished. While stepping back from scheduled
-docent responsibilities, I'll continue to visit the museum and participate in special events. Consider this
-not a departure but a transformation - like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis, my dedication to our
-shared mission takes a new form while maintaining its essential nature.
-I still believe in MDHAC's potential to be a sanctuary where Deaf culture, art and history can flourish
-authentically. Perhaps when the museum establishes proper governance boundaries and accountability
-structures, when power is distributed rather than concentrated, and when volunteer contributions are
-welcomed rather than redirected, my regular involvement might resume. Until then, I must follow the
-path that allows my energy to flow most freely toward the advancement of our community in the most
-healthy form.
-Even as I shift my position, my commitment to preserving and celebrating our cultural legacy continues
-unabated. Like water finding a new channel, my dedication flows onward, nourishing different ground
-but still part of the same essential river.
-The stars in the night sky don't disappear when they move positions - they simply shine their light from
-a new place. That's what I'm doing now.
-With unwavering dedication to our shared journey,
-Chris Haulmark
-CC: Chriz Dally
-CC: Suz Dennis​
-CC: Kim Anderson
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