Teresa Garratty: Just your average deaf identity crisis…

Ngl, (that means “not gonna lie” btw… oh and that means “by the way” but you probably knew that one) it’s really tough to write atm (“at the moment”…gosh I’m full of them today!).

When I usually sit down to write for the LC (you can figure that one out yourself) inspiration comes from my own personal experience but of course, there’s not a lot to “experience” right now.

So I often find myself just staring into the void, hoping that it might stare back and strike up a conversation or something.

Maybe that’s just me though, I see other writers here tackling subjects like face masks, ‘Where is the Interpreter?’ and cultural appropriation, so I wondered, why am I plagued with a deaf writers block?

Then something actually did happen. I was asked to take part in an all day marathon of deaf women talking about their achievements for International Women’s Day. It sounded amazing. 

I turned it down.

Well actually, I didn’t respond. I tried to ignore it but in the back of my mind I could feel the cogs of self doubt grinding away and I knew why I hadn’t responded. I didn’t feel confident enough in my BSL skills to be interviewed and I didn’t feel that the deaf community viewed me as someone accomplished.

That’s also when I concluded that the reason I’m finding it hard to write is because sadly, I don’t really feel a connection with my own deaf identity anymore.

I’m not even entirely sure I can blame that fully on the pandemic; it’s probably something that’s been lurking beneath the surface for some time now. Sure, not being able to attend deaf events has made it harder.

But mainly it’s the realisation that without these events, the deaf ‘friends’, the members of the community that I’m supposed to be a part of, the ones that say “Hey! You’re here! I’m so happy to see you!” but from whom I haven’t heard for over a year now, are not really ‘my people’ at all.

On reflection I think in total, the amount of deaf people in my life that make me feel connected to that deaf part of me is three. All the rest have flaked off the edges and onto the carpet of obscurity, like a stale mince pie that you don’t really want to eat but it’s the last one in the box and we’re in March now for Christ’s sake!

Before I’m given the, “it’s a two way street” lecture, I’m aware and I am a trier. I have tried to stay connected. I have commented, I have liked, I have messaged, I have zoomed and I have WhatsApp grouped.… But all this has done has made it more apparent that I am not seen as part of the deaf community.

During these attempts to stay included, I have seen people be antagonistic, deliberately cause segregation (d/Deaf/HoH/CODA etc) and say/type things that are quite frankly, downright rude. Call it “deaf blunt” if you wish but in my very small pool of deaf friends, some of whom are very culturally deaf, we all still manage to uphold basic manners. So what’s the real excuse here? Where do you draw the line between bluntness and bullying people out of spaces they should feel secure in?

I also make a very conscious effort to stay connected to my deaf identity and the deaf community through my work. I like to work with other deaf creatives and deaf companies. When I make films I strive to include deaf (especially deaf LGBT+) people in front of and behind the camera.

I’ve worked hard to create deaf LGBT+ content to put an intersectional minority on the map, where it wasn’t before and that work (which is not just my own, by the way, but also the work of my cast and crew) is met with comments like “There aren’t any deaf LGBT+ films…oh, well there was one but that’s it…”.

With support like that, which does not mirror the energy given when our community is excluded from things, it makes me wonder if my intentions would be better off elsewhere. How many threads are left tying me to my deaf identity, and how long before they snap?

To be clear, I’m not expecting a red carpet to be rolled out every time I bump into a deaf person. That’s ridiculous, how would they carry it?(!), but if we saw even a fraction of the collective power that surges when the deaf community is oppressed/excluded/appropriated, directed towards appreciating the work of people who are trying to counter that with proactive inclusion and progression, then perhaps that work would flourish and the community itself could grow.

That isn’t to say I receive no support or encouragement at all, I do and I am eternally grateful for it. I do have some deaf friends and colleagues who pull me up and provide me with advice and opportunities. They know who they are and I appreciate them probably more than they know. That, unfortunately, doesn’t outweigh the presence of an entire community of people who are failing to support their own, or worse, trying to tear each other down.

I can’t blame Covid for this feeling of detachment, so what can I blame? Oralism? Is the fact that I have grown up with a hearing family, in a mainstream school and with no access to BSL responsible for this sense of not quite belonging? Is it an ableist society making me feel that I’d be better off speaking and working towards achievements in the hearing world that keeps me teetering on the edge of the deaf community?

No, not really.

I wasn’t born deaf. I wasn’t deaf at school. I’m an adult(ish) and don’t live at home with my hearing family. I’ve made an effort to learn BSL and try my hardest to practise and improve my use of sign language (not easy when you’re in lockdown of course!). I’ve tried to contribute whatever I have to offer. 

Should I blame myself? Am I not whatever brand of “enough” one needs to be to be a part of the deaf community? Should I be less outspoken when I feel that people in the deaf community are being unfair? Of course not, and if you are reading this and have ever felt the same then please remember: you are fine as you are and how dare anyone say anything to make you think otherwise.

So, I guess what it boils down to is the community itself and the people within it. As I’ve said before, I’m a trier. I have tried to embrace my deaf side with such a force that Darth Vader himself would say: *mechanical heavy breathing*. That’s a problem in itself though, being a try-hard isn’t attractive in any situation and the more you try to push against something, the more it resists.

So I guess there’s not much more to do, other than fall to the wayside with the snide remarks, the accusations of “resenting BSL users” and the stale mince pie crumbs, all the while hoping that when we’re allowed back out to play again, I’ll somehow be reminded of what it’s like to be part of the community that I should belong to, no questions asked.

Read more of Teresa’s posts (with cartoons!) by clicking here.

Teresa is a freelance film maker, photographer and full time cynic. At school, she was voted “Most likely to end up in a lunatic asylum”, a fate which has thus far been avoided. Her pet hates are telephones, intercoms and all living things. Follow her on Twitter as @TGarratty