Books without Barriers

# Accessibility

# Ally

True Biz

Katie Grennell, PhD.

Books without Barriers: True Biz

I picked up this book a bit on faith. My mother-in-law, an avid reader just like myself, recommended it. She didn’t tell me what the book was about, only that I would love it. I bought it solely based on her recommendation, knowing absolutely nothing about it, and then, partway in, I had that moment of “oh, this is why she told me to read this.” Because True Biz isn’t just a novel, it’s a story about language, access, and identity in a way that made me rethink all three. This is one of those books that lingers, not because it’s tidy (it isn’t), but because it refuses to simplify things that are inherently complicated.

Set at the River Valley School for the Deaf, the book follows students and educators navigating adolescence and a system that doesn’t always make space for them. At the center are Charlie, who arrives without having learning ASL; February the headmistress fighting to preserve the school and what it represent; and Austin, a deeply rooted student leader whose fluency in Deaf culture and strong but quiet moral conviction make him both a bridge and a challenger within the community. whose perspective grounds the story and deepens it. As their stories unfold, the novel explores the tension between assimilation into a hearing world and belonging within Deaf culture. Early on, we learn that “true biz” is ASL slang for something like “seriously” or “real talk”, a fitting frame for a story that resists simplification and instead offers a complex, deeply human look at a linguistic and cultural community often misunderstood.

This book is a poignant reminder that language is more than communication, it is access. Through Charlie, you don’t just understand language deprivation intellectually; you feel how isolating it is. It forges a strong connection to Simi Linton’s Claiming Disability, particularly her critique of the medical model and the idea that disability is something to be fixed, rather than understood in the context of systems and access. In True Biz, that tension is everywhere. Deafness isn’t the problem; the lack of language access is. And it made me think about how often we still approach accessibility as a checklist, instead of asking the more meaningful question: can someone fully and equitably participate here?

The book also refuses to frame Deafness as something to be “fixed.” Its characters are complex and fully realized, and the varying relationships they have to Deaf culture feel honest rather than simplified. That nuance matters as it reinforces the idea that identity isn’t something to resolve, but something shaped by access, experience, and environment, all within systems that have not been designed to support everyone equally.

And then there’s the systems piece. The decisions shaping the school—funding, policy, mainstreaming, felt uncomfortably familiar. Not because they’re unique, but because they aren’t. These are the kinds of choices that get framed as practical or necessary, but in reality, they reveal whose access is prioritized and whose is treated as optional. This is what it looks like when systems prioritize convenience over equity.

What True Biz ultimately reinforces for me is that access isn’t fixed, it’s something we can choose to build differently. Books like this make that possibility feel tangible. They introduce us to cultures, systems, and experiences we might not otherwise encounter, and in doing so, they expand how we understand the world and our place in it. And True Biz does that in a way that feels both thoughtful and deeply human, offering a window into Deaf culture while also nudging us to think more intentionally about access, inclusion, and belonging.

Comments (0)

Popular

Books without Barriers

True Biz

Books without Barriers: True Biz

Popular

Related