Rebecca A Withey: How living in a masked world has led to a confidence crisis

With the way the world is right now it seems my confidence in social situations and being out and about with others has really taken a battering. This doesn’t stem from anxiety about the virus as such but more because another form of communication has been taken from me.

I can’t hear you. Most of the population don’t use BSL. And now I can’t lipread.

We live in a masked world now. My skill of lipreading people to get by in life is no longer useful and I find myself having to adapt to this daily, wherever I am.

I used to have an advantage over my BSL using husband because I can lipread (easier than he can) and so he would normally rely on me to communicate with hearing people in various social settings. But as 80% of the people we see are now masked, I’m no longer able to do that.

In shops, I find myself watching cashiers more and looking out for tell tale signs that they are speaking. Eyes moving, masks wiggling – those kind of things. I’ve probably unknowingly ignored a few people who’ve spoken to me – sorry!

If I’m in a queue to enter a store and theres a masked security guard chatting to people waiting, I feel as though I have to make my deafness really OBVIOUS so he won’t try and talk to me while masked. I gesture more, show my hearing aid, heck – I even have a badge that says “I can’t lipread through your mask.”

So in a way, I feel like I’ve reverted back to my awkward 12 year old self. I’m having to become comfortable again with revealing my deafness to people in order to avoid a masked-conversation-confusion episode whereas in the past I would have just lipread to get by and blended in quietly.

Because the thing is, like most people – I’ve always wanted to just blend into social situations. To not make a big deal of things. To get by independently without the need for someone else to communicate for me. I want to be able to shop independently and be out amongst others without having to cook up a fuss.

But the whole act of being spoken to while masked gives you no other option than to convey that you are….  A. Deaf B. Unable to lipread them C. Expecting them to pull their mask down or write down what they’re saying. Every masked encounter becomes a Big Deal.

Without being able to lipread, people also soon discover how deaf I really am. School mums who I’ve casually chatted to before now realise that if they bump into me in Morrisons, I haven’t a clue what they’re saying. They then realise that lipreading is actually my life-line and I don’t happen to ‘hear a little bit’ of what they say – it’s all guesswork.

Recently, I had to take a trip to the audiology department to get one of my hearing aids repaired. I was surprised to discover a sign on the clinic door asking people to take a seat and wait as they would be ‘called in’ individually. Called in? Using a telecom?

I beckoned to a member of staff I could see through the clinic door and they came out to speak to me –  masked. I told her that I wouldn’t hear any one calling me and that I had an appointment booked. She answered me – masked. I reminded her that I was deaf.

So she answered me again, seeming to speak louder this time – still masked. Exasperated, I told her that I can only lipread and therefore had no idea what she was saying. She rolled her eyes and pulled down her mask to say that she would ‘TELL SOMEONE TO COME OUT’ to me with exaggerated lip patterns.

So I waited, and another member of staff did come out. Masked. He spoke to me – well, his mask was wiggling so I assumed so. I told him that I needed to lipread and so he pulled down his mask and said ‘audiology?’ It took me a few attempts to make sense of what he was asking as I find one words harder to understand than an entire sentence. Lip readers need context, of course.

Anyhow, I nodded and he took me through into the clinic to wait for my audiologist. Thankfully she had the sense to meet me with a visor on and no mask, but the whole experience left me feeling downhearted.

Why had it felt like so much effort to convey my needs? Why aren’t others – and especially those working in an audiology department – more aware of what deaf people need to communicate? Why did I suddenly feel inadequate and cut off from the world?

And so, dear readers, I find myself having to build my confidence up with every outing. The world seems less approachable now that it’s masked and without seeing others smiles and facial expressions, I feel I’ve gone back decades with regards to how confidently I can interact with others.

I suppose once I get over the initial stumbling block of ‘I’m deaf, I need to see your lips’ then I can quickly move on from there, but what about the days where you don’t have the energy to interact? The days where you just want to blend in without fuss?

I don’t know about you, but I’m a little tired of all this adaptation anyway. For as long as we can remember deaf people have been encouraged to speak and lipread in order to merge with hearing society. If only everyone could sign, we wouldn’t have this trouble would we? Now there’s some food for thought.

Take care readers, till next time.

Rebecca