Most people have never met a deaf person. I know this because everyone I ever bring home, whether friends or partners, encounters deafness for the first time when introduced to my Nanny and Grandpa. Both of my grandparents are profoundly deaf, and I grew up in the house next door to them – raised in the space between deaf and hearing cultures and languages.
My grandparents use British Sign Language (BSL) and English to communicate. They’re part of a proud linguistic and cultural minority group, with a robust circle of peers they met at deaf clubs and schools for the deaf in the West Midlands.
Within their community, Nanny and Grandpa face no barriers. But in hearing company, communication can be fraught. When conversations miscarry or break down, I often find myself interpreting, relaying messages back and forth. Misunderstanding is rife, and anxiety a feature of most of these exchanges. Among “outsiders”, I observe a kind of communication freeze. It is less an unwillingness to converse, and more of an uncertainty about how. In particular, how on earth to get the conversation started. This is something I’m keen to see change, so deaf people feel more included.
Jessica Kirkness with Nanny and Grandpa
For Martin Thacker, a Coda (child of deaf adults) and deputy director for local engagement at the National Deaf Children’s Society (NDCS), fostering deaf awareness has been a lifelong pursuit. Growing up with two profoundly deaf parents and many deaf relatives, BSL was his first language. “I feel privileged to be a part of the deaf community,” he says. “But I’ve witnessed first-hand many of the things they have had to go through, including discrimination.”
When Thacker was a child in the early 80s his family was thrown out of their local cinema because of his parents’ deafness. According to the manager, the family was a “fire hazard”. If the fire alarm were to sound, the manager explained, Thacker’s family would pose a risk to other patrons. No matter how they protested – reminding the man that they could see and respond to chaos, and that all three children present could hear – the family was forced to leave.
“Deafness is poorly understood,” Thacker says. “And it feels like society puts barriers there because of this.” In the UK, about 151,000 people use BSL and one in six people have some degree of hearing loss. But, says Thacker, deafness often goes unrecognised. “You can walk past deaf people and never know it. You can’t see deafness unless you see that person signing.”
Despite this, there are many things we as a society can do to be deaf friendly. “Deaf awareness is essential for inclusion,” Thacker says. “And people only need to do certain simple things to enhance communication.”
It’s important to realise that deaf people aren’t a homogenous group. Some can lip-read while others can’t. When interacting with a deaf person who is lip-reading, it’s best practice to speak clearly and at a steady pace. Mumbling will mean your lip patterns are indecipherable. A common mistake is to shout. “Some people think that by speaking louder and slowing down, they’ll be easier to understand,” says Thacker. “That’s totally not the case. Too slowly is actually counterproductive.” Shouting or over-enunciating can also make it much harder for a deaf person to follow your lip movements. Clarity is key. Exaggeration is best avoided.
My grandparents have often been frustrated by people who cover their mouths when speaking, or who fidget or turn their heads mid-conversation, causing chunks of information to be missed. For my grandparents, eye-contact has always been non-negotiable. When I was growing up, if I looked away as we chatted, my grandmother would cup my cheeks and swivel my face towards her. Eye contact was a sign of respect, and showed I was paying attention.
Thacker, too, stresses the importance of facing the person you’re interacting with, as well as being mindful of light and shadow. “You don’t want the sun or a bright light shining into the deaf person’s eyes, and equally you don’t want shadows cast across your face and hands, as this will make it impossible for a deaf person to follow spoken or signed communication.”
If spoken interactions fail, it’s a good idea to rescue a conversation with pen and paper, or by texting back and forth on a mobile device.
And what about sign language? Could more people show willingness by learning the basics? Thacker likens it to travelling overseas having mastered a few key phrases. “Local people are excited if you’ve made an effort. It’s the same for the deaf community. It’s appreciated when people try.”
A good starting point is to take a look at the mini lessons created for the Cadbury Sign with Fingers initiative, a partnership with the NDCS that hopes to encourage more people to learn a little BSL to help more people feel included – because a little bit of sign language can make a big difference. Each short video teaches viewers a single phrase, such as “how are you?” or “fancy a cuppa”, to get people started. If more people know how to sign, more deaf people will be able to enjoy shared moments with family and friends – those simple everyday interactions that make life so much better.
Having got a few signs under your belt, you may want to take your BSL to the next level – the BSL qualifications awarding body Signature can point you in the direction of your local provider of sign language courses. Given the nationwide shortage of sign language interpreters in the UK, there’s a great need for people to learn and embrace BSL.
“Don’t be frightened to give it a go,” Thacker says. “But use it often. Like any language, if you don’t, it becomes rusty. Go and use it for good reason and you’ll find it’s a wonderful language with its own incredible history.”
Jessica Kirkness is the author of The House With All the Lights on, a novel looking at how deafness shapes families
Let’s help more people feel included by learning some British Sign Language; start learning at signwithfingers.cadbury.co.uk
