being deaf in a hostile world

 As someone who was born deaf, the way I am treated by society is not just an inconvenience—it’s painful, traumatic, and alienating. It’s not about seeking pity or asking people to "check their privilege," but rather for society to recognize that disabled individuals exist in this world and deserve the same respect as anyone else. When people treat me differently—whether it’s ignoring my presence, belittling me, or physically grabbing me in an attempt to communicate—it’s not just frustrating; it’s damaging.

Working in retail should be an opportunity for human connection and service. Instead, it often feels like a battleground where I constantly have to prove my humanity while navigating the misconceptions people have about me. One incident stands out: I was collecting garbage when a customer, presumably frustrated with my inability to hear him immediately, slammed his cart into mine and started yelling at me. The situation escalated to the point where he was pointing his finger at me aggressively and threatening me. I stood there, shocked, unsure how to react, feeling completely isolated and powerless. Even worse, the people around me did nothing to intervene. It’s hard to explain the psychological toll this takes when you realize that people who witness this don’t care enough to help.

Another experience that stuck with me was being called the “r” word by an older man who was upset because I didn’t hear him immediately. This hurt not just because of the word he used, but because it was a reflection of a deep, ingrained ableism—where my value and worth were instantly diminished because of my disability. And it wasn’t just from strangers—I’ve been told on public transportation to "get up" because I’m not “really” disabled, as though the mere fact that I can walk somehow invalidates my deafness. These instances are not rare, and they’re not anomalies—they happen far too often.

What’s even more frustrating is how many people don’t recognize the harm they’re causing. They think that simply calling me “special” or “brave” in the face of my disability is enough, but those gestures are patronizing, and not empowering. I don’t need to be treated as some kind of saint or martyr just because I can’t hear the world the way others do. What I need is basic respect. I need people to stop assuming that my deafness makes me “less than” or an obstacle to overcome and that I’m not deserving of dignity in the same way anyone else is.

The Problem with Ableism: Why It’s Not Just About Awareness, But Action

The root of these interactions lies in ableism—the discrimination and prejudice against people with disabilities. Ableism operates in many forms: it’s in the assumptions people make about what I can or can’t do; it’s in the attitudes that suggest my disability is something to be “fixed” or “cured” rather than accepted; and it’s in the everyday microaggressions that I and other disabled people face that normalize this behavior as if it’s okay.

There is a huge gap between awareness and action. While many people now have some basic knowledge of disabilities and the need for inclusion, too often, that awareness doesn’t translate into real action. Awareness campaigns and disability pride are important, but they’re not enough if society continues to treat disabled people like objects of pity or inconvenience. Being aware that someone is deaf doesn’t mean you should grab them to get their attention. Being aware that someone uses a wheelchair doesn’t mean you can block their path or make assumptions about their capabilities. People need to realize that disabilities don’t take away from someone’s humanity. It’s just a different way of being, and it shouldn’t be treated as an obstacle.

The same goes for the belief that we’re all just looking for handouts or special treatment. I’m not looking for someone to feel sorry for me; I’m looking for respect and for people to treat me like a human being. Disability doesn’t diminish my worth. It doesn’t mean I’m incapable of having a meaningful life or participating in society in meaningful ways. What limits me more than anything is not my deafness but society’s inability to accommodate and respect me as I am.

How to Be Better: Simple Steps Toward Respect and Inclusion

So, how can people help? First and foremost, the answer is simple: treat us with respect. It’s not enough to be aware that disabled people exist; it’s about recognizing and respecting us as equals. Here are a few things that would make a world of difference:

1. Don’t assume: Just because I can’t hear doesn’t mean I can’t communicate or function in the world. Don’t assume that I need you to speak louder or that I’m somehow less capable than you.

2. Don’t touch me without permission: One of the most jarring experiences I’ve had is people grabbing me, assuming they can just force their presence into my personal space to “get my attention.” I don’t need physical contact to know you’re there, and it’s invasive and alarming when you do that without warning.

3. Don’t belittle or patronize: Comments like “you’re so brave” or “it must be so hard for you” are often meant to be kind, but they can come off as condescending. I don’t need to be treated like a charity case—just like everyone else, I want to be treated with dignity.

4. Educate yourself: The more you know about deaf culture, disability rights, and the social models of disability, the more understanding you will have. It’s not enough to just be “aware” of disabilities—you need to actively learn how to be inclusive and respectful.

5. Stand up: If you see someone mistreating a disabled person, stand up for them. Whether it’s in retail, on public transport, or in everyday situations, your voice and actions can help make a difference.

The Bigger Picture: Changing the Culture

The experiences I’ve had—whether it’s being physically grabbed, being spoken over, or being dismissed as “not really disabled”—are not isolated incidents. They are reflections of a larger, deeply ingrained ableism in society. Changing this culture isn’t just about making minor accommodations, it’s about shifting our collective mindset. It’s about understanding that disabled people are not “other” or “less than” but are just as human, capable, and deserving of respect as anyone else.

We all need to remember that when we’re talking about social justice, we can’t leave out the disabled community. This isn’t about being politically correct—it’s about being human. If you want to be a truly empathetic person, don’t just acknowledge someone’s disability, respect it and treat them as you would anyone else.