Stepping off the ferry in Vineyard Haven, I had my sights set high for my multi-day trip to the Vineyard. As a deaf student, I couldn’t wait to explore an Island that was once teeming with people just like me.

Martha’s Vineyard developed into a prominent deaf community after 1694 when Jonathan Lambert and his wife moved to the Island. Jonathan and two of his children were deaf, and as they intermarried with other Islanders, the gene spread. By 1710, migration to the Vineyard slowed. At its peak in the 1850s, one in 25 Chilmark residents were deaf (compared to 1 in approximately 6,000 people on the mainland).

The Lamberts’ regional sign language developed into Martha’s Vineyard Sign Language (MVSL), a manual language used by most Islanders: deaf and hearing alike. Many deaf residents attended the American School for the Deaf in Hartford, Conn., after its founding in 1817. There, MVSL blended with other regional sign languages to help form modern American Sign Language (ASL). As more deaf Islanders moved away, the genetic prevalence of deafness on the Vineyard declined. The Island’s last fluent MVSL signer, Katie West, died in 1952.

Given that Martha’s Vineyard was the origin for a modern language used by over 10 million Americans, I was expecting to discover strong cultural ties to the past deaf community. Walking down the brick sidewalks of Oak Bluffs, I passed two Black Dog stores, a Vineyard Vines and hundreds of trinkets plastered with Martha’s Vineyard and catchy coastal phrases. This raised a crucial question for me: where was the deaf recognition among the souvenir shops? How did Martha’s Vineyard transition from a deaf oasis to a primary vacation spot? But as I had soon discovered, this rich legacy is all but invisible to visitors and locals alike.

My questions led me to the Chilmark Public Library. I was kindly greeted by librarians who hoped to answer my burning questions. We explored local publications and discussed Nora Groce’s book, Everyone Here Spoke Sign Language. Looking out the window, I saw elementary schoolers playing outside for recess. I wondered, do those students out there know who forged the ground they play on? What about the language that was used alongside English in this very town for hundreds of years?

Exploring what kind of education students receive about Martha’s Vineyard, I gravitated towards the Massachusetts DOE History Framework. Although once mentioning Martha’s Vineyard in context to “[e]xplain reasons for the growth of towns and cities in Massachusetts in the 1700s,” the state of Massachusetts does not touch on the rich deaf history that’s unique to an Island only 20 miles across. I hoped the Chilmark School and the Martha’s Vineyard School District would be different. While the schools study the Island’s history, they only briefly cover the robust deaf community. Since the state curriculum had little to say, I wondered if local institutions had more to add.

I continued on to the Martha’s Vineyard Museum. A stately building looking over Lagoon Pond and the Atlantic, I had high hopes for information on the commemoration of the deaf families who tended to the land. As a shark fanatic, I enjoyed the Jaws 50th anniversary exhibit, but continued searching for artifacts related to my inquisitive question. Tucked away in the corner, I stumbled upon a painting. Positioned up high, I almost missed the portrait of lifelong Chilmark farmer Josie West, one of the last deaf Islanders. A rotating slide played on a screen on the opposite side of the room, explaining the deaf history in Chilmark and the use of MVSL. Asking if there were any exhibits that touched on the deaf community, I was directed towards the gift shop’s copies of Nora Groce’s profound book.

Documenting my journey on social media, I received dozens of comments from locals and tourists alike expressing their shock when hearing my account of the numerous deaf Islanders and the origins of American Sign Language. I wholeheartedly understand the Island’s reliance on the tourism industry, but I urge locals and visitors to look beyond the souvenir shops. The integration between hearing and deaf Islanders from the 18th to 20th century is a past to be proud of. While deaf mainlanders were institutionalized and often denied property rights, Islanders were crossing sound barriers via card games and the fishing industry. Martha’s Vineyard truly was an oasis for deaf people, but broader trends of the erasure of deaf history have presently spread to the Island.

Deaf tourists like myself, historians and anyone with an appreciation for a unique linguistic culture would further gravitate to the Island if only there were an increased public knowledge of Martha’s Vineyard’s past deaf culture. For a place so reliant on the tourist industry, I believe further education on the Vineyard’s deaf community would strengthen the Island’s economy. I truly hope everyone who steps off the ferry is able to explore the history that is presently pushed below the surface.

By visiting Katie West’s home, Abel’s Hill Cemetery and many other historic landmarks, visitors have the possibility to honor the deaf community that was once here. I urge the Vineyard to push this history outwards beyond deaf historians and Chilmark locals. Martha’s Vineyard has the opportunity to honor a history that showed true humanity, not just for visitors to admire, but for all Americans to learn from.

Leo Pickron lives in Salt Lake City, Utah and spends his summers in Bristol, R.I.