Deaf Awareness Week: Right to Understand – Together We Break Barriers
This week (4th–10th) is Deaf Awareness Week, with the theme “Right to Understand – Together We Break Barriers.” here in the UK.
For me, the best way to honour this week is by sharing a bit about who I am, what I’ve lived through, and why accessibility and understanding matter so deeply.
Communication isn’t one‑size‑fits‑all. Small, thoughtful adjustments can completely change someone’s experience. Every day, people who are Deaf or hard of hearing — including me — face barriers that often go unnoticed: background noise, fast‑paced conversations, unclear speech, or environments that simply aren’t accessible. Every D/deaf person has different communication needs, so I can only speak from my own experiences, challenges, and the things that help me navigate the world.
My Story
I was born deaf to hearing parents. I received my first hearing aids at around 18 months old — but only after my mum pushed and pushed for someone to take her concerns seriously. When the diagnosis finally came, the doctors apologised. Not because they hadn’t listened sooner, but because I was deaf. Telling a parent “sorry” for having a deaf child isn’t exactly the best way to build confidence that things will be okay.
I was fitted with hearing aids and my parents were told to raise me like any other hearing child. This was the 80s — there was no mention of British Sign Language, Deaf identity, or the Deaf community. That meant growing up always trying to “catch up,” always feeling different, and navigating mainstream education where I was bullied for something I couldn’t change.
For most of my life, I was labelled as having moderate to severe hearing loss. Then, in my early 20s, I developed further issues in my left ear and became severe to profound. That shift hit me hard. My confidence, my identity — everything felt shaken. And all of this happened while I was studying for a counselling degree… a degree built on active listening.
I was told I might lose even more hearing, possibly to the point where hearing aids wouldn’t help. So instead of distancing myself from my deafness, I leaned into it. I made Deaf friends, found community, and built a stronger sense of identity. I self‑funded BSL Level 1 and 2 because I wanted to be able to communicate if my hearing declined further. I still feel frustrated that I had to pay for something that could have been free if someone had advocated for me as a child — but that’s a conversation for another day.
Throughout my 20s, I was Deaf and proud. I spoke up when I needed support. I felt empowered because I was surrounded by people — both Deaf and hearing — who understood and embraced my identity.
Losing Myself… and Finding Myself Again
But in my 30s, after moving into full‑time work and away from that supportive environment, something changed. I slipped back into a hearing world that wasn’t always accessible. I stopped speaking up. I didn’t want to be “that deaf person” who always raised issues. So I adapted, quietly struggled, and carried on.
Life moved forward. I got married, had two amazing boys, and settled into a version of “normal” that wasn’t actually working for me.
Now, as I approach 38, I’ve realised something important: Just because something has become normal doesn’t mean I have to accept it.
I am a Deaf person. I do face barriers. And that doesn’t mean I should stay silent about them.
Why This Week Matters
Deaf Awareness Week feels like the right moment to reconnect with the part of myself that speaks up, educates, and embraces my identity. Understanding starts with awareness — and awareness starts with conversation.
So this week, I’ll be sharing the good, the difficult, and the sometimes humorous realities of being a deaf person in a hearing world. Because the more we talk about these experiences, the more barriers we can break together.
