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I don’t know what it is about the Victoria line, but when I lived in London, I kept meeting deaf people on it.
This would usually happen between Victoria station and King’s Cross. I would be standing or sitting down on the tube, when I would notice someone in my carriage who looked familiar.
I’d be trying to place them, when they would notice that I was looking in their direction, spot my hearing aids, and then, to my shock, they’d ask me: “are you deaf?” in perfect sign language.
A few minutes later, I would get off at my stop and say goodbye to my five-minute friend, having enjoyed a good sign-wag in between.
The strange thing is that however familiar they looked, I’d realise that I had never met them before.
So, when this happens, what is it I find myself recognising?
‘Read’ this entire article in BSL on the video below, provided by our supporter, Signworld!
For me, it is something ‘deaf.’
Something in their eyes, the way they look around the carriage, and at the people in it, that is distinct from everyone else.
It’s a subtle difference, that I think is obvious only to other Deafies.
I think that hearing people don’t look around in the same way – in London, they’re certainly far less keen on risking looking directly at another passenger, so they tend to keep their eyes pointed directly at the floor.
Hearing people also behave differently as they travel. They know that if anything happens, such as a heated argument on a packed tube train, or some kind of major incident, or even a passenger trying to squeeze past them, their ears will alert them to it.
As a result, they’re more likely to spend a journey glued to their phone or book, without looking up once.
Deaf people, meanwhile, have to make sure they have an idea of what is going on around them by sight alone. Even if they are glued to their phone or a book, they still look up and across the carriage once in a while.
Which is when what I like to call the ‘Deafdar’ starts to become alterted…
The idea that deaf people conduct themselves differently in public places is backed up by one of our earliest articles, written by Andrew Hearn, who wrote about how much he enjoyed scanning all the activity – the people and shops – of Gatwick airport, which he had to pass through on his way to work every morning.
Andrew’s article (read it by clicking here) explained that because of the way he visually scanned his environment, he started to get searched regularly by the airport police.
The police didn’t have a ‘Deafdar,’ but they did have a ‘Terroistdar’ that picked out Andy’s behaviour as being suspect. He later realised that if he ‘walked like a hearie’ and looked down at his feet, he no longer found himself being touched up by men bearing firearms and a not-so-friendly manner.
Recently, I picked out the deaf person I was meeting (who I had never met before) in a crowded train station, from his manner alone. He looked at me in surprise.
I didn’t tell him my theory, in case it made him feel self-conscious, or like I was offending him in some way. To some people, “you look deaf!” would be a compliment, to others, I’m not sure. Best to be cautious at first, I thought.
That said, I don’t see a downside to looking ‘deaf.’ I like the way we look around. It’s part of who we are, and another interesting difference between deaf people and their hearing peers.
And I’m pretty proud of being in possession of a ‘Deafdar.’
Do you possess a ‘Deafdar’? Can you spot a deaf person at fifty paces? Tell us below!
Charlie Swinbourne is the editor of Limping Chicken, as well as being a journalist and award-winning scriptwriter. He writes for the Guardian and BBC Online, and as a scriptwriter, penned the films My Song, Coming Out and Four Deaf Yorkshiremen.
The Limping Chicken is the UK’s deaf blogs and news website, and is the world’s most popular deaf blog.
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Terence Paget
February 14, 2015
Very interesting article. Deafdar. Interesting concept.
I am ‘deafened’ – a one-time Hearie who has now dropped right down the scale to be flat-lining on the audiogram chart at severe. It’s age, in my case – like having to wear reading glasses (and a different spec strength for computer work). All those many years ago in my later teens I passed a very thorough military medical for aircrew: my hearing and sight were perfect. My hearing loss as it is now, then, is life – no accident, no illness, no work-related environment, just ordinary, everyday ‘life’ and the living of it. These things happen, get on with it!
I mention all of this because, over time as I have adjusted to my hearing loss (and certainly over the last ten years or so), I have become aware of how very much more I rely on my sight. But this reliance is more in the context of what is going on around me (the Gatwick Airport anecdote made me realize that, just maybe, my looking around as I do, especially my frequent glancing over my shoulder as I move around in crowds, may flag up an unwelcome warning). I am aware that I look at people’s faces more than I ever did in the past, but that is so as to detect emotions and feelings. Having read the article, I shall now look also to see the extent to which others in the crowd “observe” as opposed to try to avoid observing. Puts a different meaning on “I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours!”
Thanks for the challenge. And thanks for identifying a potentially useful achievement and goal if I am up to that challenge.
Diana
February 15, 2015
I am an Auslan (Australian Sign Language) teacher, yes I agree how a deaf person has that ‘sweeping’ look around, and sometimes catching eyes of another deafie, somehow a deafie will know by this glance, how? I dunno. Anyway, many years ago I had a new class to start and I always ask around why the students are wanting to learn Auslan, come across many various reasons. One lady recently a refugee to Australia, said that she was learning because her daughter was intellectually impaired so she wanted to communicate with her daughter in any way she could. After a couple of weeks, I asked if I could see her daughter at kindergarten (I don’t know why but something was niggling at the back of my mind) her mother said yes so we agreed to meet a time at the kindergarten at closing time. The day came and I went with the mother and met her 4-5 year old daughter, immediately after looking into her eyes, I knew she was not Intellectually Impaired but that she was deaf! So I said to her mother ‘She’s only deaf, there’s nothing wrong with her!!’ Mother gasped and we both looked at the daughter who was smiling at us. A few days later, mother came into class and proceeded with this story: She went to the principal and advised her what I had said/suggested. They agreed to test her properly and decided to move her into a deaf unit. Mother said as soon as her daughter went into the deaf unit, her eyes lit up and she flowed into the group “like a duck to water”. This story gives me goosepumps every time I tell it. I realise now that because she was a refugee the authorities not knowing the proper language of her country simply assumed her daughter (not being able to speak any language ) was ‘not right’ upon appraisal and was put her into a special needs unit.
That girl would be in her 30’s now and I often wonder how her life has been since…
jojomccid
February 16, 2015
I wish I had a deafdar. But I’m am slowly developing one although I still hit and miss many times. It’s always the signing that reveals their true identity. 🙂
Sheila
February 16, 2015
There is definitely such a thing as ‘deafdar’. I have been severely deaf all my life. It isn’t something you can disguise from deaf people, no matter how long your hair is, or how much a part of the hearing world you are in. (I like to get to know people first, before bringing up my deafness). Hearing people don’t spot my deafness straight away. I have recently qualified as a ToD. And would you know it, deaf children have this ‘deafdar’ finely tuned….I find within a minute of meeting a new case, they spot that I am deaf too, just by how I look at them and those around us. And we are talking about five year old children here.