Juliet England: Is it still OK to call someone ‘hearing impaired’?

I’ll be honest. I’ve never given ‘hearing impaired’ as a term much thought before. It was OK to use it, wasn’t it? Merely descriptive and harmless? Er, apparently not, and certainly not entirely or necessarily.

My recent piece on ‘deafie’ got me thinking more about labels and what we feel comfortable calling ourselves. So I started giving ‘hearing impaired’ some thought as well.

In many quarters, it seems it’s a term that’s no longer considered appropriate. The arguments against it are that it focuses on what people can’t do, and sets ‘hearing’ as the norm, the gold standard everyone should aspire to. Equally, it doesn’t cover the many nuances in differences of hearing loss which our community experiences.

Notably, it seems more often used by the medical community, rather than those with a hearing loss themselves.

America’s National Association of the Deaf, for example, takes issue with it, stating: “This term is no longer accepted by most in the community, but was at one time preferred, largely because it was viewed as politically correct.”

(Interestingly, and by the by, the use of ‘the deaf’ in this organisation’s name is itself up for debate, with many preferring simply ‘deaf people’, as personally, I think I probably do myself.)

Anyway, I put a call out on one of our groups on Facebook. The scale and strength of feeling of the responses was startling, with nearly 70 comments received in all.

Of the replies in this (admittedly very unscientific) study, those who positively welcomed ‘hearing impaired’ appeared to be in the minority. More respondents were actively against or at least indifferent to it, or felt that life was too short to get worked up about such things.

One of those who said she wasn’t especially bothered by the term was Hati Dunn, who said: “I’m a Disability Studies researcher and understand the issues people may have with it, but it doesn’t particularly bother me.”

Equally, the severer someone’s hearing loss, the more they seemed opposed to it.

Kirstie Whitehouse commented: “I tend to say I’m deaf….I’m profoundly deaf and think with ‘hearing impaired’ even though it covers a wide range of levels of deafness…most hearing people will assume you only have a slight hearing loss.”

This was echoed by Sue Worner, who particularly dislikes ‘hearing impaired’ and felt it made others underestimate the extent of her deafness. She argued that simply saying ‘deaf’ is a more effective and accurate description. She always signs it too, and adds: “If hearing impaired is used, some people can expect more than I can give.”

Julia Knight wrote: “The term implies there’s something wrong with me. I’m fine, and I do just fine, too. I’m deaf and prefer that term for myself.”

For Charlotte Senescall, “I prefer deaf as they … take it more seriously than (if you say you’re) hearing impaired … and make … more effort to make sure they’re making it easy for you.”

Some, like Lisa Laverick, associated ‘hearing impaired’ with a milder hearing loss than profound deafness. Others preferred ‘hard of hearing’ or ‘I have a hearing loss’ to describe their situation.

I liked Nick Rivett’s comment: “I prefer the term Deaf … was born that (way) and my hearing wasn’t impaired by any other means.” Jon Merrick agreed, adding: “To someone born Deaf living within the Deaf community I suspect they would probably not consider themselves ‘impaired’, but more likely part of a linguistic minority group.”

Someone else who was born severely deaf, Vincent Matthews, described the expression as ‘irrelevant to me’.

Ursula Pool agrees, stating: “I don’t like it. I’m not impaired. I’m partially deaf. Impaired implies an intellectual deficit.”

David Wilkinson thought hearing impaired ‘meant nothing to most people’; for Karen Goucher it’s an expression that’s ‘outdated’.

Intriguingly, Catherine Edwards dislikes the words ‘hearing aids’ more than ‘hearing impaired’, despite having worn them since childhood, when she “threw them in a bush on the way home from school aged seven when a boy said ‘Ugh, that girl has got worms in her ears!’” (Although happily Edwards reports a more positive experience with her aids now. And I’m not sure what other expression could be used to cover the things we place in our ears.)

Again and again in the responses, with one or two notable exceptions, those who weren’t against ‘impaired’ were more likely to be indifferent to it, not actually minding it, rather than positively welcoming. But it was only for a minority that the words used did not appear to matter that much.

Sarah Connerton remarked: “I was recently advised not to use ‘hearing impaired’ and the discussion went on to suggest not using the term disabled toilets but to try and use positive and enabling terms.” (Really? And is banning the use of ‘disabled toilets’ taking political correctness in language too far?)

I was also interested by the response of Amy Snell, who said: “I wear a badge at work that says I’m hard of hearing. I’ve never really thought about it until management said hearing impaired to me. Felt strange. I say hard of hearing or deaf.”

Of the notable exceptions who were OK with ‘impaired’, I was struck by the response of Helen Wellie, who said: “I’m deaf but hearing impaired is better than hard of hearing, which is a totally stupid term, while the term deafie is just plain insulting.”

Maybe life is indeed too short, but reading the responses certainly reinforced for me that, actually, it really does matter what words we use to describe ourselves, and how we are perceived as a community. I think ‘hearing impaired’ is something I’ll probably give a swerve from now on, having seen the strength of feeling against it.

But ‘cloth-ears’? Hmm. I may have to get back to you on that one.