Quote:
Originally Posted by Viola
Hi aishah
When I was hard of hearing I was the only one in my family who was., I think in a way this delay what I need when I gain hearing, as I felt no one knew or any guide for me in a way. I had to figure it out on my own in a way.
do you ever find this where anyone with challenges if not around others with simular challenges then are delay in growth, due to not having a mentor or guide who's been there...
Did your dad know of others who were hard of hearing when being hard of hearing, when you were growing up? I really didn't know any hard of hearing or deaf, when I was hard of hearing...
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I know this was addressed to aishah, but I’ve thought a lot about this topic. I was raised in a hard of hearing (hoh) family- we openly acknowledged we were hoh to one another, but looking back, it seems most of the mentoring I got went in to how to pass as hearing, and not into utilizing available resources. There were no trips to the audiologist, no ASL classes, no hearing aids… but there was a year of speech therapy in 5th grade to get rid of the deaf accent I was developing (not that anyone called it that- it took me years to realize why I was sent!).
Deaf people may seek out other Deaf people, but the hoh don’t usually seek out the hoh. Being in that grey area between fully hearing and deaf creates its own isolation, I think- there’s a pull to choose a side, and in my family’s case, they chose to present as fully hearing. Heck, even the language that describes my hearing indicates how uncomfortable the in-between place is: hard of hearing, hearing impaired, hearing challenged… or if you want to go back 600 years, Chaucer described the Wife of Bath as “somdeel deef” (somewhat deaf). All are clunky comparative phrases, while the deaf and the hearing get their own stand-alone words. (My own preference is for the phrase hard of hearing, which sounds far less clinical than hearing-impaired, and besides, Shakespeare used it ☺ )
I wrote an essay about growing up hoh, and how I live in this poorly named (both literally and figuratively) grey space between hearing and deafness. The essay is called “Hardly Heard”, and is in a recently published anthology called
Deaf American Prose (Gallaudet Deaf Literature Series, Vol. 1). I’ve mentioned this on another thread, and at the risk of being redundant (or self-promoting), it really is a good anthology.