Insight: Is mocking sign language a hate crime? Why it’s not acceptable (BSL)

For many deaf people – me included – experiencing hate crime doesn’t start with violence. It starts with mockery.

It can start as simple as someone watching your hands or your actions instead of your face. Then you might notice laughter that isn’t kind. Eventually you become aware that you are being turned into a joke.

As someone who went to a mainstream school, I remember how cruel hearing kids could be. One girl in particular was awful towards me and she made no attempt to cover it up. I remember her watching me speak to a hearing friend and she came right up to my friend and – pointing to me – said ‘Why do they speak weird like that?’

I looked directly back at this girl and she laughed, mimicking how I spoke. I didn’t have the confidence to speak back to her and nobody had my back either. I thought that was just ‘kids’ for you and I hated being the only deaf person in my school.

But sadly a recent experience took me back to feeling the same way – as though I was being targeted about something that was out of my control.

Recently, I went ice skating. It was meant to be something light-hearted, an outing for me and my two young children. While waiting in the queue, I noticed two teenagers nearby who were watching me sign to my children.

At first, I tried to ignore it but then they began copying my signs. Even one of my children noticed this and told me too. The boys were exaggerating the signs. Laughing. Nudging each other. They were clearly mocking me.

In that moment, my body reacted before my mind did. I felt sick. I felt exposed, uncomfortable and unsafe. Not because they were physically threatening, but because I had been singled out. More of their friends joined them then soon enough there was a small group looking over, laughing and taking the mickey out of sign language.

I know other people around me noticed this too and threw me looks of pity but nobody stood up when I was clearly uncomfortable and feeling targeted.

Would you say this was a hate crime?

But this is what many people don’t understand about hate crime for deaf people: it doesn’t always look dramatic. It looks small and casual. You might say “it’s just kids.” But the impact is real.

Mocking sign language is not harmless. Sign language is not a game or a pantomime. It is my language that is tied to my identity and culture. When it’s mocked, the message is clear: you’re not like us, you don’t belong here, and we can laugh at you for existing.

Despite me looking over at the boys to show that I knew what they were doing, the laughing and mimicking continued. So I decided to tell a member of staff. I didn’t want to escalate things — I just wanted it to stop.

Using notes on my phone, I asked a member of staff at the desk to fetch the manager and I explained what had happened and how it made me feel. I expected the manager to at least speak to the boys or their guardians. It would have been good for them to acknowledge that this wasn’t acceptable.

Instead, I was told that if I wanted to take any action, I’d have to report it to the police myself. So, the manager didn’t do anything. No one was spoken to. No attempt was made to make the environment safer or more comfortable for me. I felt completely dismissed.

It was like they were saying this is not our problem. And it made me feel as though as deaf people we are expected to tolerate discomfort quietly, or handle discrimination alone. I didn’t feel supported. I felt like a nuisance for even mentioning it.

I carried on with my children and tried to make the best of the day but my mood had dropped and we decided to leave early. Even my children were asking why the teenagers were doing that and why nobody was standing up for us.

My children – as hearing kids – don’t always understand that their deaf parent can be treated differently so this was a harsh lesson for them to learn.

I went home feeling anxious, replaying the interaction, wondering if I had overreacted and wondering if I should have said more. Maybe I didn’t say the right thing at all?

But this is how exclusion works. It happens through quiet signals that say you are on your own here.

So I looked up the experience online and I found lots of similar cases towards deaf people that had escalated and had ended up being reported as hate incidents. So I wanted to find out more.

It seems that legally, hate crime is often defined narrowly — requiring intent, hostility, or criminal thresholds. But for deaf people, the lived reality is broader.

Many experiences fall into the category of hate incidents rather than crimes. They may not be prosecuted, but they still cause harm. They still create fear. They still erode trust in public spaces.

And when organisations fail to respond, that harm deepens. Maybe these were just two harmless teenagers making fun of sign language? Maybe you think this isn’t a big deal at all, right? But where do attitudes like this lead to?

I kept questioning myself afterwards too. What would a better response have looked like from the manager I spoke to? I asked friends and googled online, as I needed some kind of validation that I wasn’t just overreacting.

It seems that the manager didn’t need to get the police involved really, but what they failed to do was show acknowledgement. They could have had a word with the boys or spoke to their guardians. That would have been a clear message that mocking disability — mocking a language — is not acceptable.

Instead, the responsibility was placed back onto me.

Deaf people are constantly asked to educate, to advocate, to explain. But in moments like this, what we need is protection — or at least solidarity.

Hate crime isn’t only about what happens at the time. It’s about what happens after. It’s about whether the person affected feels believed, supported, and safe. And I didn’t. Even after it happened, when I should have been having fun with my children, I felt on edge, wondering if anyone else was watching me and making fun of my signing.

That day at the ice rink reminded me of something many deaf people already know: discrimination doesn’t have to be loud. Sometimes it laughs. Sometimes it does nothing at all. And that, too, can cause harm.

If you see someone mistreating a deaf person, being rude or abusing the language – please don’t leave it up to them to take care of their own needs. Be an ally and an advocate.

That is how we bring communities together. And even if it’s ‘just kids’ being rude – these kids need to learn and be shown an example otherwise, they’ll carry the same attitudes throughout adulthood.

This blog has been written anonymously as part of the Insight series – created by Assistant editor Rebecca A Withey.

If you have a story, experience or viewpoint you would like to anonymously share please email Rebecca on  rebecca@rawithey.com

Image courtesy of Pexels