The End

Ted Evans’ award winning short film, The End, poses the question, ‘if there was a cure for deafness, would you take it?’

In its raw, documentary style The End explores what could indeed happen if deafness was eventually eradicated.

For those of you with hearing or with no exposure to the deaf community, saying ‘yes’ to a cure for deafness would most likely seem an automatic response.

But for those who are well and truly part of the deaf world, the prospect of eliminating deafness would signify a loss rather than a gain.

The existence of sign language, deaf humour and rich artistic expressivity would all cease without the deaf community that gives life to them.

For this community, deafness is seen not so much as a dis-ability but rather an ability to converse in a unique language and enjoy the perks of living in a much quieter world. To them, deafness has many gifts.

I have known deaf artists say it is actually their deafness that enables them to be so successfully creative.

Deaf writers have expressed how it was their deafness that encouraged them to seek wider platforms for their ‘voice.’

Even I, as a dancer, have noticed how my sense of rhythm and musicality is stronger than most – and yes, I am deaf!

Countless deaf professionals have all said it is because of their deafness that they have succeeded and not despite of it. So without it, who would they be?

This is perhaps why charities that focus on ‘curing’ deafness are often shunned by the deaf community. Offering a cure, however well-meaning it may be, could be read as:

“You are not normal.
We want to fix you.”

By emphasising what is lacking or medically lost, is it any wonder the deaf community may feel inadequate when viewed from a medical perspective?

Yet as a friend of mine likes to point out, what is normal anyway?

Without our variations and differences the world would be a very uniform and uninspiring place.

Going back to question, to say that I would meet the offer of a cure with an immediate ‘no’ would be a lie. I was not born deaf; therefore I know exactly what I am missing. And even with all the perks of not hearing, there are times I really do miss music…

For myself I have concluded - should a cure ever be invented, much further consideration would have to be given. It’s simply not as easy as yes or no.

And so congratulations must be given to Mr Evans who, with his thought provoking and poignant film, has encouraged deaf people worldwide to seriously consider The Big Question…

“Would you?”

*Photograph from Disability Arts Online shows a still from The End

Skip, hop and a jump!

Sat in my car, held up by traffic, I casually notice a bunch of school kids leaving a nearby school.

Their Mums and Dads, laden with bags, lunchboxes and books follow, walking sensibly and maturely – as most grown ups do. The children, however, opt for a much more joyful form of travelling.

They skip!

Arms swinging with gleeful faces, they manoeuvre their travelling dance around oncoming pedestrians. Sometimes they run instead, but all the while remaining light and buoyant, a picture of delight. All for absolutely no reason.

So when did my skipping days end, I wonder?

Perhaps when I hit secondary school and the need to be ‘cool’ and look good came into play. I think the closest I got to skipping as a teen was when I tripped up inside ASDA and flew awkwardly into an old man. The shame.

But I can feel the childlike yearning within me again. The craving for the bounce of my feet and the need to feel the wind in my hair! Oh the pleasure of bouncing gaily JUST BECAUSE I WANT TO!

And so, pulling up at home a little while later I decide now is my chance. The driveway to my front door is perfect for skipping down. Lets go!

But then. I notice the neighbours leaving their house. Hmm. Another time.

And so for now, the hallway of my home will have to make do.

WHHHEEEEEEE!!!

Go on, try it! I dare you.

Show us your gnashers!

A toothpaste advert tells me in its booming voice that it is “the only one proven to combat acid erosion, plaque” and countless other serious, nasty, horrible ills that teeth can encounter.

 I don’t think trying to scare me into buying a product is the right tactic.

You know, in past years nobody actually knew about acid erosion.

In those days toothpaste was toothpaste.

Sometimes I think we know too much.

Power to Pause...

It was nearing the end of another day as I returned home to discover the power – my goodness – had been cut off!

Panic and worry began to creep in.

How on Earth will I get my dinner cooked now?

And how am I going to see?!

Is there anything I can actually do with no electric?!

Sighing heavily, I scrambled in the dark kitchen cupboard for matches, lighting the few tea lights I could find.

It was then that I saw it.

A dazzling pink and dreamy blue sunset streaked across the sky. Patches of small, fluffy clouds danced across it, like gentle shadows.

I was speechless.

Pulled out of my chattering world of thought, I was transfixed and firmly grounded by the beauty before me.

Just breathing. Just watching. Just being.

Before I knew it – PING – FLASH – FLICKER – the oven, microwave and lights returned to life, declaring their existence with their sounds and brightness.

And so, what to do now? Write? Plan? Seek yet another stimulating activity?

Hmm.

Collecting my tea lights, I took myself upstairs and lay down in the dark to enjoy the last few moments of the mesmerising sunset.

Nothing to do, I smiled. Nowhere to go. Nothing to be.

Just breathing. Just watching. Just being.

And so it seems, sometimes life gently reminds us that we don’t have to always be so busy.

We don’t have to be so filled up with things, people and constant activities.

 It’s okay to do sweet nothing.

But, as I found, that’s normally a choice we have to remember to make.

A Pongy Ponder

I was holding my nose while rushing through a store laden with OTT overbearing scents when I had a sudden flash of genius.

If only, I thought, it was possible to switch off my sense of smell – at will – in the same way I flick my hearing aid off to avoid certain sounds.

There would be no more desperately holding my breath to avoid the stinky smell on a skanky train toilet.

And I could perhaps get through one of the niece’s nappy changes without needing a scarf wrapped around my face.

I would even be safe from the wrath of the most lethal smell of all… morning breath!! (Other people’s of course.)

And then, for all the more pleasant smells in the world I could simply flick the nose switch back on.

Ah. If only.

Sorry, what was that?

Driving home one day I noticed cars behind and in front suddenly dispersing. It took a second to realise I was in the way of an emergency car trying to make its way through. Cheeks flaming, I hurried to get out of the way. It’s not that I’m ignorant or daydreaming – I’m just deaf.

 When people hear “deaf” they tend to think of old people with beige hearing aids. But I’m 25, a performing artist with a huge passion for music – and my hearing aid glitters. How’s that for a stereotype? 

In fact, there are lots of us young deaf folk around. Statistics say that there are ten million people in the UK with some kind of deafness – that’s one in six of the population. Around 840 children are born with hearing loss each year.

Now, being deaf does have its benefits. If there’s something I’d prefer not to hear, off goes the hearing aid! I can also pretend to mishear and use sign language for those oh-so-private conversations.

Other times it’s a pain in the neck. I’ve had countless ‘sorry we missed you’ cards from the postman and have even been yelled at by strangers who thought I was ignoring them. 

You see, deafness is invisible. But how do I tell others about it without them running a mile or ta-lk-ing-ve-ry-slo-wly?

It’s easier if I just speak. Sign language tends to give hearing people the heebie jeebies. They either ignore me and talk to someone else or start doing pidgin sign. Not. Funny.  In fact, 50,000 people use British Sign Language!

Britain could do with making its public transport a lot more welcoming to us. It’s embarrassingly common for me to follow crowds at train stations like a sheep when platform changes are made. And I’ve missed flights home due to ‘miscommunications.’

You wouldn’t have that in America. Their deaf-friendliness puts us to shame. I can’t believe all programmes get subtitled there while here I’ve practically begged Living TV to subtitle Most Haunted. They still don’t.

My greatest bug-bear of all is when people assume. Strangers treat me as though I’m stupid. I’m even expected to have a job that’s more ‘appropriate’ for a deaf person. I’m deaf, not daft.

Some people can be lovely though. Once they get past a few ‘pardons’ and I become used to their lip patterns, they soon discover that we can actually have a good chat. So they go home, inspired to strike up a conversation with the next deaf person they meet, knowing that deep down, we are all the same.

So if you do meet someone who’s deaf, trust me – they are human. Ask them how you can best communicate and don’t put be concerned if you hear whistling around them. It’s only their hearing aid. Well that, or the wolf whistles they are oblivious to.

Starman

I have been watching Celebrity Big Brother. *gulps*

Yes, you read that right.

Mind you, I did Sky Plus it so I could fast forward the inane bits and play when I got to the entertaining parts.

I have to be honest, the main reason I’ve tuned in is so I can catch a glimpse of the marvellous Andrew Stone when he is not busy being Starman or leaping about on Pineapple Dance Studio.

It appears he is taking a bit of stick from the other contestants, being laughed at for his campness and extravagant nature. But you know what? I love him! In fact, I really want to be his friend.

I could be his star woman and sing along with him in a glam rock outfit.

I could give him a run for his money in the dancing stakes and jump into the splits whenever he decided to too.

I could borrow his black nail varnish and enjoy soulful, meaningful conversations together…putting the world to right while composing our latest hit song.

You may think I’m joking but I really am not.

He is clearly a man of feeling, of passion, of emotion and the fact that he does not hide that is what makes him ‘odd’ to most others.

So don’t worry Starman. Come and join the weird and wonderful crew!

Super Speed Madness

Not content with whizzing down our motorways at 70mph, there’s now a proposal to up this by another 10 miles by the year 2013. Increasing speed in a society that’s already hurried? Insane idea.

Although the government claim this change will be immensely ‘time-saving’ and of huge convenience to motorists on the road today, may I first of all state the obvious. The faster you drive, the lower your chances are of actually surviving an accident. Speed kills. Everybody knows that.

And then how about we consider what this proposal really signifies.  I find it extremely unsettling to see how as a society we appear to demand everything be quick, powerful and impressive. Not content with what we have, we constantly seek the next best thing and this is evident from the early creations of convenience food to the modern waiting-for-the-next- smartphone-release obsession.

As we constantly push to see what else we can ‘improve’ on and what new ground we can break, we have given birth to the ‘can’t sit still’ 21^st century syndrome. There are already agreements to build insanely fast train connections and surely we can all remember the height of Concorde.

What’s next? Will we be clicking our fingers and teleporting in an instant? It wouldn’t surprise me if someone out there was literally working on this. We invest so much energy trying to ‘save time’ when as a country we live our lives on fast-forward.

Even with all our technological developments and modern achievements, western society is still unhappier than ever. Depression is on the rise and more and more people are off work with stress related illnesses. With the growing unease in Britain I hardly think a motorway speed increase would be productive. On the contrary. Britain. Needs. To. Slow. Down.

In bygone days where travel moved at a lulling pace and life just felt slower, people were actually much happier. Perhaps they knew that the secret to contentment was not how quickly they could arrive at a destination but whether or not they enjoyed the journey.

And as for the super speedy trains that the government are giving the go ahead to.. oh I could weep. Not only will we be whizzing around the country on dangerously high speeds, our poor countryside will get the brunt of it.

It really saddens me when more plans to ‘develop’ the country and ‘improve’ society involves losing what was naturally here in the first place. Our fields and country parks are a fraction of what they used to be, dare I imagine how they might be in 50 years’ time if these crazy developments keep taking place.

Where will you take your leisurely walks then, Mr Government, if there’s no more quiet parks to walk in?