Soda Stories: The Gallery
To be featured on the Soda Stories gallery page, submit a profile. When your profile is complete, your submission will comprise of an application form, 1-5 pictures of yourself and a written narrative about a favorite memory or pastime with your Deaf sibling, 100-500 words long.
This project is accepting submissions on a rolling basis. Anyone with a sibling with hearing loss qualifies. Greensoda Productions reserves the right to accept or deny any submission. Those who apply may or may not be considered candidates for the film.
Download your submission form and packet checklist (PDF formats) here.
Do you know a SODA you think ought to be included in the gallery? Please refer them here. Or, just nominate them yourself: give us your name, contact info and the reason why you think this SODAs story is special.
Sample Story, by Eliza-
Our family of about 30 came together for a portrait at a cousin's Bar Mitzvah. The photographer allowed one silly shot, to start. This was a wise idea, as we tend to be pretty rambunctious and like to fart and horse around. We were told to make the most fowl, ugly, terribly faces. What fun! We stood on the platforms, snickering and ribbing one another. A few months later, looking at that glossy proof, I saw that Sarah's face was worst of all. We really were monsters. There she was standing, front and center, with her hands clasped, bright-eyed and smiling. I felt guilt for not interpreting for her as I might have. I felt sad for her that she missed out, and overwhelmed that I felt alone with the responsibility.
When a year later, Sarah left for her freshman year at a Deaf residential school back East, my heart cracked. Who was going to tell drawn-out, stranger-than-fiction narratives right on the spot? Her stories made my side split for hours on end. I knew it would be good when she immersed into the Deaf community. We all predicted she would become open and changed and happy. When I visited her, she ended up interpreting for me! I was most blown away after dinner outside the cafeteria, my first night on campus. Standing in the humid spring air, she bawled out a classmate. Her signs flew past my eyes. I couldn't grasp what her issue was with this teenage boy. I marveled, however, that she was finally able to express herself in an environment where she did not need me. She was the same sister, but different, somehow. At the age of 20, I found myself wanting to be part of that world more than ever.