Deaf does not mean stupid

Someone I love suffers from, as the audiologist put it, “profound hearing loss”. We – those who love her – joke that it’s we who suffer, who go unheard, and that she’s in silent, ignorant bliss, but it’s not true.

This vibrant, dynamic woman once lead conversations; now she smiles and nods charmingly, and often doesn’t hear what’s going on.

I see people stare at her after speaking, unsure if she’s rude or foolish when she doesn’t answer them, or when she replies and has clearly misheard the question.

I want to paint her subtle little hearing aids bright pink so people will see them; I want to attach flashing lights to them, arrows too; I want to pin a badge to her chest saying:

“Not stupid, just deaf.” Because people equate the two, you know. And yet people who wear hearing aids are embarrassed of these little gadgets in a way those of us who wear glasses are not.

They don’t wear them because it takes a while to get used to them, and because by the time most people admit they have a hearing problem they’ve already lost the ability to discern many sounds, simply because the brain lets the unused pathways fade away.

Isn’t it odd how we accept our fading sight, but our fading hearing is denied?

So I want people to tap this lady’s elbow when they speak, like I do so she looks at me, because she lip-reads more than she realises; I want them to enunciate, to move their lips and not mumble; I want them to switch down the background and use their outside voice.

I want them to communicate with this remarkable woman, who is too often buttressed by silence, her hearing failing after a lifetime of doing everything for everybody, of working in a foundry, of volunteering with Brownies and Sunday school and old people and underprivileged children.

I want to scream that she’s still in there, so could they please not roll their eyes or speak behind her back or over her, because she may be deaf but she can still see, damn it, and I can see how it hurts her. If they think it’s hard for them, imagine how hard it is for her.

Yes, I want the world to know my mum remains one of the smartest women they’ll ever meet, and that it’s worth them slowing down, and speaking up. And listening.