“I feel compelled to talk publicly about it,” Askini said, noting that everyone who has approached her recently seems to have the same questions about her disability.

For an outspoken activist like Askini, who currently serves as the executive director for the Gender Justice League, the adjustment to her new life has been profound. Today, the 35-year-old — blonde highlights, bright, gummy smile — finds herself not only advocating for those in the LGBTQ community but for those who are disabled as well. Askini says she sees parallels between the discrimination she faces as someone who is transgender and the challenges she and others with disabilities must overcome.

“It’s really fascinating how invisible I feel in this new way,” Askini said. “I feel like I walk into rooms, and people don’t even see that I’m there. Maybe because I’m usually so vocal.”

“It feels somewhat eugenicist,” Askini continued. “Like only perfect people get to have ideas or contribute to our culture and thinking. Only people who are perfect can know how to solve social problems, especially ones they haven’t experienced themselves.”

“I’m just as brilliant, funny, hardworking and knowledgeable. But I need to use technology to communicate.”

Although Askini is coping well, her disarming sense of humor and accompanying wisecracks fully intact, she admits the learning curve for her disability has been steep. In the four weeks she has been mute, Askini has already learned how to sign more than 100 words, including phrases that might come in handy at the office, such as asking for names.

She has also collected a handful of horror stories about ableism or the belief, as she puts it, that people with disabilities are inferior to others. She freely shares many of them on Facebook.

For example, there were the construction workers at Kaiser Permanente in Capitol Hill who spotted Askini using sign language with her instructor and mistakenly assumed she was not only mute but deaf. They proceeded to talk about Askini as if she wasn’t there, joking about the “waste of a nice rack.”

“They thought it was hysterical. If I end up in jail, you’ll know why,” Askini joked.

In another Facebook post, Askini described a recent doctor’s visit:

Scene: Speech Pathologist Office Waiting Room

Dude: "Hey, are you here to see Dr. M?"

Me: *pointing to my mouth and shaking my head* *mouthing* "I'm Mute"

Dude: (excitedly) "Omg, you're gorgeous AND mute?! You're every man's dream woman. Finally, a woman who can't talk back. *self amused chuckle* "Are you married? Please say no."

Most recently, Askini wrote about going to the movies. As a result of her surgery, Askini’s right ear has a tendency to fill up with water and needs to be periodically drained. Slightly hard of hearing, Askini planned to use a closed-captioning device so that she could fully enjoy the movie. She belatedly discovered, however, that the device would only work in the theater’s accessible seating row. After Askini and her partner sat down, a man yelled at them for taking his seat, despite attempting to explain her predicament and although most of the theater remained empty.

Yet Askini believes most “people are not being malicious or unkind. We just don’t know what we don’t know.” Askini also says most of the accommodations she asks people around her to make are relatively minor, like simply slowing down.

“I think I’m learning that people are unnecessarily fast in their day-to-day life,” Askini said. “Everyone rushes through conversations. There is a consistent feeling that I’m bothering and annoying people.”

The computer application Danni Askini uses to help her communicate. (Photo by Matt McKnight/Crosscut)

“Oftentimes the conversation moves way beyond me, and I’m talking about things people were talking about a minute ago. So it feels disruptive and annoying to the group consciousness because I’m interjecting in a non-sequitur way.”

There’s also an awkwardness Askini encounters with certain people, which is not unlike the thorny situations she’s had to navigate as someone who is transgender.

Often they apologize, but Askini points out “sorry” isn’t really helpful: “I am fine with being a person who can’t talk… If you are having feelings about this please process it with someone other than me.”

“A more helpful way to express solidarity,” Askini wrote on a tip sheet for those attempting to communicate with her, “is to tell me how great I am at adapting, that you’re happy to have me around.”