TAMPA — The roar of the Super Bowl crowd is something most performers hear.
Fred Michael Beam feels it.
His hands slice through the air, his facial expressions inject emotion, his performance brings the music to those who cannot hear it.
For Beam, a Temple Terrace native, artist and advocate, the road to the biggest stage of his life at Levi’s Stadium just prior to Super Bowl LX on Feb. 8 began with a simple video and a leap of faith.
Beam had posted a video of himself signing the national anthem at a Deaf event and sent the clip to an advocacy group called Deaf Equality. He wanted to know if it was “Super Bowl worthy.”
The head of Deaf Equality reached out to Beam, and asked for another video, this time signing the national anthem and “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” widely recognized as the Black national anthem.
Time passed, and Beam feared someone else had been chosen.
Then an email arrived asking if he could meet on Zoom. He was peppered with questions about his signing style, and how would he handle performing on such a big stage.
“I explained my techniques, my approach to artistic interpretation, and how I connect the emotional and musical elements through sign,” he said. “They seemed impressed.”
They were. Beam was offered the chance to sign at the Super Bowl — not for one song, but for both.
“I was floored,” he said.
So began one of the most remarkable experiences of his life: bringing Coco Jones’ performance of “Lift Every Voice and Sing” and Charlie Puth’s national anthem rendition to life for those unable to hear the music and words.
Beam flew to San Jose and was credentialed as part of the official Super Bowl Entertainment Team, giving him a front row seat to the spectacle. He took part in a press conference.
When it was time to rehearse, the magnitude hit him.
“The first time I stepped onto the field during rehearsal, I looked around at all those empty seats and thought about how big the moment was,” he said. “It almost overwhelmed me.”
He took a deep breath and centered himself, thinking of his earliest supporters: mom Gwendolyn, dad Fred, a band director, sister Mildred and his nephew Calvin.
And then he turned his attention back to his performance.
“It’s a high-pressure, career-defining moment,” he said. “Signing the national anthem on that stage requires total emotional, musical, and technical focus.”
It is storytelling.
Painting pictures in the air.
Channeling strength and passion.
Bringing the song to life visually.
“I felt a huge responsibility to represent the Deaf and signing community with pride and precision,” he said.
With his familiar braids swaying, his arms and hands giving each word meaning and his emotionally charged delivery — including a jacket change from a white music-note coat to a blue band-director style — Beam delivered two performances widely praised within the Deaf community.
“Many people told me they got goosebumps watching, as if they were hearing the song through my signing,” he said.
Though not fully shown on the main broadcast, the performances aired in full on NBC’s ASL broadcast.
“It was a huge deal for the community,” he said.
Beam is no stranger to big stages. He previously directed a professional sign-dance company that toured internationally for nearly a decade, performing in cities like Tokyo and Kyoto.
He is the executive director of In¬visible Hands Inc., promoting deaf awareness through performing arts. His work includes ASL music and dance videos, theater productions and choreography. He was the first deaf choreographer in Washington, D.C. to work in any theater production, was named one of Essence magazine’s Real Men of the Year and received a key to the city of Birmingham, Alabama.
Still, nothing rivals the scale of the NFL’s biggest game.
After performing, Beam finally relaxed and watched the game, eventually finding himself pulled in by the “energy” of the Seattle Seahawks.
Though born in Covington, Georgia, Beam’s journey began in Temple Terrace, where his family moved when he was a baby.
He lost his hearing at age 3 after complications from a high fever and chicken pox.
In a time before the Americans with Disabilities Act, there were no captions, interpreters or accessibility. His mother insisted he learn to read lips, which he did, though he says doing so was exhausting.
“I often had to play a guessing game in order to understand what was said in class,” he said.
He attended Greco Junior High, where his father taught music, and later King High School, where he played baseball, basketball and track.
“King High School was amazing and unforgettable,” Beam said. “My safe spaces were the basketball court, math class, and art class — places where I didn’t have to rely so heavily on spoken language. I had great support from friends and teachers who understood me and never made me feel different.”
His senior year, one of his teachers entered one of his art pieces in a competition at the Temple Terrace Art Festival without telling him.
He won first place, his first big breakthrough, triggering a lifelong passion.
Art, Beam says, became his escape and his language. Drawing gave him the peace and expression he couldn’t put into words.
“Over time, it became my way of telling stories and sharing my world,” he said.
He attended the National Technical Institute for the Deaf at Rochester Institute of Technology in New York, where he first began exploring dance and theater. He later attended the University of South Florida part time, and eventually transferred to Tampa Technical Institute, which had strong deaf support services.
Beam graduated as valedictorian, earning a degree in electronic engineering technology.
Over time, he merged art, dance and advocacy, blending African American culture with American Sign Language.
“For a long time, I felt I had to choose between my identities,” he said. “Eventually, I embraced being both Black and Deaf equally, proudly calling myself Black Deaf. It’s not one or the other — it’s both. It makes me whole.”
Beam has spent his entire life proving that one’s story isn’t defined by a traditional telling, nor is it just one long chapter. It doesn’t need words, or sounds. It can be what you want to be, and it is ever changing.
“Everything I’ve done — the art, the advocacy, the performances — comes from a place of resilience and pride,” he said. “Becoming Deaf didn’t close doors; it opened different ones. Every stage I step onto, from King High to the Super Bowl, is about showing the world that you can tell powerful stories without a single word being heard.”
To learn more about Fred Beam or to purchase some of his artwork, visit fredbeamstudios.com
