Being Deaf During COVID is a Nightmare

I’m not completely deaf. I speak at a normal volume and hear people fine one-on-one. But if you put me in a crowded place, you might as well not speak to me at all.

To compensate, I learned to read lips (like nearly every deaf person). I’m not fluent, but if the audio cuts out in a Zoom call, I can still understand the person if they’re talking into the camera. Humans adapt.

The older I got, the less I liked phones. Given the choice, I always opted for in-person meetings, despite my introversion.

Then... COVID happened.

No more coffeehouse meetings. No more offices. No more picnic tables in a landscaped pavilion.

I was three weeks into phone meetings when I remembered just how deaf I really was. I found myself staring at a blank wall, trying to conjure the person and watch their lips. Swing and a miss, of course.

When we collectively realized Skype, Zoom, and Meets could be used for purposes other than showing new haircuts to long distance grandparents, I was relieved. Yes, it’s obnoxious to have seven people on a call, but at least I could see them. My superpower was back.

Then... I went to the grocery store.

I had to pick up pills from the in-store pharmacy. While I was there, I bought a few grocery essentials. Thinking that using a regular checkout with a real person behind hard plastic would be more sanitary than the overused self-checkout, I prepared myself to make the usual small talk.

The middle-aged woman was wearing a thin cloth mask, just like me, but she had to repeat “paper or plastic” three times before I could give her an answer. I could barely understand my total, let alone any small talk. Of course, the woman didn’t know I was deaf. She just thought I was obnoxious.

In those rare times I return to the grocery store, I exclusively use the self-checkout. It may be a bit riskier, but at least I don’t have to say “What?” “Excuse me?” and “I’m sorry?” eight times only to exasperate people making minimum wage. Problem solved. Sort of.

Then… I watched the news.

A politician was making a speech about COVID, and was wearing a mask. And I was staring at the screen, hoping I spontaneously developed X-ray vision.

Hearing people tend not to enunciate and barely move their mouths. Try it. Say the word “okay”. Did you move your lips at all? You probably would for the word “no” but putting the “o” at the beginning of the word makes people lazy. Try it again with “yeah,” “not,” “and,” or “all”. See?

Then cover those already not-moving lips with a mask. We’re doomed.

[It’s rare that I say “yeah”. Instead, it’s “yes,” “yep,” “okay,” or “what” (depending on the context). I didn’t teach myself to do that. I just adjusted. I had to. Hearing people do not.]

The politician was passionate and spoke clearly, but I felt like I was walking through a dense fog. I knew he was there and I understood the gist, but without subtitles or an interpreter next to him, I will never know exactly what he said.

Plenty of videos use interpreters now. Sometimes they’re live, especially during press conferences. Other times, they’re added in the corner of the video. As long as you know ASL and have a little patience, you can participate in society, too. Patience isn’t my strength, but I can muster a little for this. Problem… solved?

The problem is… Deafness is invisible

Despite the stigma, many deaf people do speak and can be understood. Plenty of hard-of-hearing people completely blend into society. We live a double life: communicating with deaf friends through sign language and hearing friends in regular vocalizations. Sometimes, I feel a bit like Batman.

For those of us who don’t wear some type of assistive listening device--you call them "hearing aids"--there’s no physical sign that we can’t understand you. We look just like everyone else. And, while in some ways that’s easier, it’s an enormous disadvantage in the age of COVID.

While on a Zoom meeting a few weeks ago, I realized someone was having trouble hearing me. Instinctively, I moved closer to the camera and enunciated more clearly. A hearing person asked a perfectly reasonable question: “Why are you moving closer when your microphone is right by your mouth?”

I patiently explained that I was making sure that people could read my lips. A light bulb went on. This person had never considered that some people “read” lips. This was a novel idea to them and I suspect they researched it more when we hung up. Spreading knowledge is rewarding.

There’s no good solution… But enunciate anyway

One of the greatest compliments I ever received was that I was “articulate”. This person didn’t mean that I simply spoke clearly and coherently. They meant that I could organize my thoughts on a subject and speak concisely. To a question some people might give a 3-minute answer, I give 30 seconds. There are no extraneous words.

And maybe that’s because I have to use slightly different syntax with specific inflections in an effort to make people understand me. (I also pitch my voice up an entire octave, because people struggle to understand low pitches.) I don’t talk less than the average person, but I avoid repetition. When you put that much work into speech, you tend to want to only say it once.

Masks are here for the foreseeable future and I will never have X-ray vision. I’ve made my peace with that. But I implore you to do two things: look at the person/camera when you speak and enunciate. You’ll be a hero to the deaf.

Plus, you won’t have to hear “What?” as often.

Win-win.