“Identity” essentially means how a person sees themselves in relation to their world. It means knowing who you are and how you fit into the rest of society. Forming your personal identity requires that you take all you’ve learned about life and yourself and mold it into a unified self-image, one that you and your community finds meaningful.
But what happens when a “hearing” person suddenly or gradually loses their hearing? Their identity, their sense of self and everything they thought they were — turns upside down! There is not just a loss of hearing, but a loss of identity and individuality in the context of life and what they believed would lie ahead.
Like social-psychologist, Erik Erikson’s description of Adolescents, a late-deafened person, whether they are 8, 17, 38 or 60, goes through a period of Identity vs. Role Confusion. They experience an identity crisis or a period with an absence of identity — meaning that they cannot see clearly, or at all, who they are now with a loss of hearing, or how they can live, be or relate positively with their hearing peers, family or environment.
Like adolescents, deafened people (young and old) struggle to achieve a clear sense of self, to belong, to be accepted and affirmed. They go through a period where their identity is constantly changing due to new experiences they have as a newly or gradually deafened person. These experiences can be both negative and positive.
It is well known that many individuals in the hearing world still view people who cannot hear as “disabled” or “broken.” In fact, the deafened person may have held that very same view of other deaf or deafened people before losing their own hearing. They may carry a deep sense of confusion, shame or guilt about who they are because their new sense of self as a person who can no longer hear doesn’t seem to gel with what they previously perceived deaf or deafened people to be.
So here’s a question: How can we, as a deaf community, assist late-deafened people in seeing themselves as whole and not broken?
There are a number of things that we can do to help make the identity crisis easier for late-deafened person. First, we should have a deaf community and culture that is worthy of the deafened person’s respect — one with positive role models, one with open lines of communication, and one that is nurturing, supportive, empowering, welcoming and accepting.
Next, we as a deaf community should find ways to acknowledge deafened people when they reveal certain healthy insights about their evolving positive “deaf” self-concepts. When the deafened person begins to make the transition from their broken body-image to a sense of wholeness, this should be celebrated, noted or marked in some way.
In primitive and some traditional societies, an adolescent boy or girl might be asked to leave their village for a period of time to live on his or her own, hunt some symbolic animal, or seek an inspirational vision. The boy or girl may be required to go through certain tests of endurance, symbolic ceremonies, rites of passage or enlightening quests. In one way or another, the distinction between their old self and their new self, is made clear, and upon their return, their new identity is often celebrated. Some are given new names or new labels.
This is also true for a late-deafened child, adolescent or adult who makes the transformation from their identity as a “hearing” person to whatever they now see themselves to be – “late-deaf,” “deafened,” “hard of hearing,” “deaf, “… whatever. How they label themselves is not necessarily related to the degree of hearing loss they have, but rather, it develops more as a matter of personal choice based on their experiences and interactions with the hearing and deaf communities, both good an bad.
Without the positive guidance, kind support and acceptance as a “whole” rather than “broken” human being, from both the hearing and deaf communities, we are likely to see Identity Crisis and Role Confusion remain an ongoing personal struggle for deafened people.
As long as deaf and hearing people draw a line in the sand (“you — there … me — here”), deafened people will remain suspicious of any real sense of belonging to the deaf community, and maintain an uncertainty about their place in society in the hearing world, feeling tragically and perpetually stuck in the middle with no place to belong.
Both adolescents and late-deafened people in our society burn with one straight-forward question of identity: “Who am I now?”
In the story below, my young adolescent friend who is losing her hearing, comes to terms with her changing identity by questioning her place in her world, and by sharing her day-dreams. Because I wanted to honor her shift in perspectives about her evolving identity, I chose to print her story here, in hopes that it will reach many more eyes and thus validate her transition.
Like my own personal story of becoming deaf at the age of 17 (which can be read in it’s entirety by clicking on the sidebar of my blog under the “My Story” category), I know my young friend’s journey has been a hard, but enriching one, and that she still has many discoveries to learn about herself, not just as a person who is becoming deaf, but as an adolescent young woman coming into her own sense of wonder.
And as a late-deafened person who is comfortable in my deaf identity, I want to be there for her, whenever she knocks on my computer window or door, cheering her on and lighting the path that shows, as Joey Baer put it, that “it’s good to be deaf.” Both becoming deaf or being deaf is okay.
My point is that we as a deaf community help shape the experiences of people who have suddenly become deaf or who are gradually losing their hearing. Based on the experiences and information my young friend and other deafened people acquire in their daily interactions with others in both the hearing and deaf worlds, be they negative or positive, they will either remain confused about who they are, or eventually they will come to a stronger sense of who they believe themselves to be.
Do we want to thwart late-deafened individuals and keep them on the other side of the bridge, telling them they do not belong here or there? Or, do we want to help deafened people achieve a feeling of wholeness by welcoming them into the deaf world? I hope you’ll join me in my efforts to make our connections with late-deafened people — a positive one!
(My young friend’s story is below. Can you see her personal struggle and her insights into her evolving sense of a “deaf” identity? Your comments are encouraged and welcome.) 
Dear LaRonda,
I was watching TV late at night on April 8, 2007, yes Easter Day. Your blog was on my mind twenty-four/seven today. I was watching a show called Little People Big World. I had began to daydream about myself… what I wanted in life, what kind of college I wanted to go to, who I wanted to be, what major, and the challenge that stood before me…
Then once again I remembered you telling me that the path I choose, and which way I wanted to go, was simply my choice.
I imagined myself replying that I felt like I fell in a hole and I stopped. The way before me was curved and twisted, full of weeds, no flowers in the view of the dirt road. All the trees were bare and naked with out leaves. The grass was brown as though a fire had happened, and the bushes began to grow taller than the hills. I found myself stuck in a maze with out direction, a world full of holes, and no caution signs were seen at the time.
Then a word appeared to me in my mind: “resiliency” — a muscle in your heart that gives you the power to continue on.
I remember asking my ASL teacher last year in innocence if she could have the choice to hear would she. She simply replied “no.” I began to wonder why would some one give up the sound of music; the birds chirping early on a Saturday morning; the sound of a piano, organ, flute, the high pitch of a piccolo, or even the low tune of a bass; the noise of a chatting room; the beautiful voice of a soprano, or even a baby’s laugh. Who would want to give up this?
Me? I was so self-secure. I knew what I wanted. I was ready to make the music history. In my mind, the road was straight — full of flowers, redwood trees, oceans that smelled of salt, and precious essences of herbs. I had my life planned out and was ready to live my days. But there was a gap that stopped me dead in my tracks. One that I could not prevent, expect or even explain to my family. In my eyes, they would just not understand.
I felt as though my life had left me and I was near my days to death for some major sin I must have committed and this was God’s way of showing me. There were many days when I laid in bed and awaited for the dark grave to take over, but it never happened. I waited… days seemed like weeks… months seemed like years… but nothing happened.
My parents became concerned of my days without a social life, but I was the one who made me disabled. I put myself in a handicap position. Nobody else did this to me, but me. I always wondered why I put myself through this. I wasted a summer in a room dressed without color.
I finally put on a brave face for the volunteer service in a deaf agency that I had to do for my ASL class. The environment and people there would soon become like family that understood me in a million ways that can not be expressed.
So people ask me why did I choose to continue, and not give up. It’s all because of resiliency. There was something inside of me that pushed me on, that told me to “believe in myself,” that magic dreams and pixie dust was not the answer to all of my life problems.
Still, as my junior year began, I went through the same hardships, but my road was no longer a road of dust, dirt, and rocks. Now it became two rough roads of thorns and fire. In addition to what I had been dealing with, my best friend had left me to move away with her family. It did not affect me during my summer, but I felt the real knife drive through me during the first week of school. I found myself waiting for a ghost at times. I stood there by her locker expecting her to be there to ease my pain, to tell me that I was going to be ok. However, it did not happen.
I found that some things that I cherished I had to give up, many things that had become dear to me. I had found that I was too tired at the end of the day to do anything extra. I stopped acting, playing music, quit the sports, and the tutoring service for other children that I had began. I quit my baby-sitting job and I gave up on my family.
I also learned that school was no longer the learning experience that I had before. My hearing was slowly going and I stopped relying on it and started to rely on my eyes. I began to wear my glasses more, took up and passed my oral lip-reading class and called myself who I wanted to be, though I was not “deaf” in my parents’ eyes. I was just “a teenager” whose world was changing.
My parents always supported me, but they were not so accepting when the changes in my identity started taking place. I had certain needs that felt as though my parents could no longer meet. I rarely came home. Instead, I went to my aunt’s house because I knew she related to me because she was deaf. She was someone who spoke in ASL. I did not have to read her lips, which was good because I was tired at the end of the day. I did not have to wear a hearing aid to be able to hear her because she allowed me to use eye contact instead. Most of all, she helped meet my needs as I did for her.
Once again, I found myself pushing aside who I was, but still I was stuck in a ditch. I finally climbed out near the time of Christmas, accepting the road before me. I was ready to take it on. As my road continued on, I found light at the end of the day. The days were long, but I found that it was ok to ask for help. It was ok to have a friend take notes for me even when I tried my best. I held my head high and came home to my family expecting praise. However my family did not change as much as I had.
I stuck around because I knew if I wanted to make friends and have people accept me this was my first test. I had to learn to stop running from my problems and to face them. I quit dreaming because to me dreaming was like a fantasy world that I could not live in. I realized that dreaming had weakened me, giving me some ideal self, not who I really was. I had to stop wearing a mask of a “hearing person,” hoping that everyone would accept me.
The transition was hard, but I made it through by the end of the month. I found that I wasn’t hurt, disabled, ruined, broken down, or even new person. I was just me and this is who I am.
I have had people ask me how do I function in a hearing world. I am proud to reply that I function the same way as a hearing person, but with my own culture and way of life. I was put on the earth to make a difference and that’s what I intend to do. Big or short, tall or thin, HOH or Deaf, White or Black, this is me and this is who I will always be no matter what way my life takes me.
My road did get brighter with ASL, and I found a teacher who soon became a greater person to me — one who I know accepts me as I am — and someone that I can count on. As the sun rises each day, I still say thank you for waking me up this morning, no matter what.
A teacher once told me: “If you can’t start the party be the party. If you need help ask for it. If you can’t be the party, then join it. If you don’t have a date, take a friend. If nobody wants to go with you, then you are one in a million because you will make the difference by showing who stands out.”
LaRonda, you are one in three million. You always make excellent sense!
I am so glad that finally someone brought up “Little People, Big World”. That is my favorite program on t.v. and (incidentally), they are only a few miles from here, up highway 26. This family makes an excellent role model!
We are who we are, whether we can accept it or not. But we still need a place in the world to call our own.
Your friend, Lantana
Lantana’s Latitude
Left by Lantana on April 9th, 2007
Thanks Lantana. You are a sweetheart! You always make me feel so good!
Oh, I know! I love that program! I know where they live! I think we’ve been to their pumpkin farm in the past! Beautiful people and brave to share their lives with so many.
It’s similar here in v/blogland where people open their hearts and homes and share their life stories. Way cool!
Thanks for reading!
~ LaRonda
Left by LaRonda on April 9th, 2007
Seriously, LaRonda, you should write a book about your incredible journey. I am always in awe with your writings.
Julie
Left by Julie Rems-Smario on April 9th, 2007
I enjoyed this. Long too haha. Last thing anyone needs is an identity crisis. One should be allowed to live and let live! Denial can be discriminating on an individual in crisis and so can attitudes in society in general, but one should be determined to press on and find meaning that they can hold on to and teach others that they’re human beings the same. Thanks for an enlightening post.
Left by MikeS on April 9th, 2007
LaRonda, You are a beautiful writer. I admire you. You said it very well.. We as culturally Deaf people have responsibility to work with people who all of a sudden become Deaf or never exposed to Deaf people like us. With our uncondition love, we support and guide them becoming Deaf if they allow us. We welcome them with our arms open.
LaRonda: You are already Deaf. All of us have D in our souls, just the time being. Some people wake up earlier or late, other already knew, and some are denying/struggling.
Aidan
Left by Aidan Mack on April 10th, 2007
Although I do not pay much attention to the blog design, yours sure do have a soothing effect with the colors, font, natural pictures, and your calming writing style.
I raise Lantana point that you are one in a 5 million. Grins
Left by Jay on April 10th, 2007
no 1 in one zillion…
Left by nerdyguy on April 10th, 2007
Julie,
Thank you, dear one. It’s always uplifting when someone suggests I write a book. I actually am in the process of editing my story about becoming deaf so that I can seek publishing. I’ve never done it before, so I’m a little new at the process, but writing has been my strength since I was very young. Hopefully there are others out there who are interested in what I have to share. Hugs!
Mike,
I’m glad you enjoyed this post. I thought you would since, I believe, you are studying mental health counseling. I have always been drawn to topics about the psych, the spirit, and human nature. I apologize for the length of this post. I’m not sure how many will actually read it due to the length. I give you props! My part is pretty much the same length I usually write when I have a good post with detailed content. But adding my young friend’s writing at the end made it twice as long. But it was my point to highlight her journey in some way. Maybe I could have separated it and made a link for people to read her part on another post so it didn’t appear that this one was so long. Maybe I’m just making excuses for being long-winded too.
My habit….
Aidan,
I appreciate your support and welcome arms. I do identify myself as deaf and I am comfortable in that identity. I know there are organizations such as Shhh or HLAA or ALDA or AGB, but not every late-deafened or HH person wants to be a part of those groups. Like deaf people, not all late-deaf and HH like to be viewed medically or seen as broken either. I am fortunate that I have been well received by the deaf community for the most part, therefore my experiences have been mostly positive, helping me feel welcome and comfortable as a deaf person. Only in the last couple of years have I poked my nose into ALDA (Association for Late-Deafened Adults). I do not attend the meetings as a member, but I have been invited as a speaker there several times and as an occasional writer for their local and national newsletters. I have felt welcome and honored there as well. Yet so few people in the ALDA organization use sign language. I understand this and this is okay, but it is difficult for me to switch back over to lip-reading and using real-time captions, instead of the smooth easy communication through ASL. But I’ve done it because there is a part of me that understands this group of people in a deep and personal way. But if someone asks me how I identify myself, the answer is that technically, I am an “early” late-deaf person. But in my heart, I am “deaf.” As you said, I guess I woke up early.
Thanks everyone for reading me.
~ LaRonda
Left by LaRonda on April 10th, 2007
Thanks Jay.
I work hard to find the right pictures and colors for my blog. I want the reader to feel soothed. I’m glad to see it has that affect on others. I’ve written a lot lately. It’s about time I switch back over and make some vlogs so others will enjoy what I have to share in a different way!
~ LaRonda
Left by LaRonda on April 10th, 2007
That was a nice one… my son who has a progressive hearing loss (I sign hearing loss with an empahsis, since that is what he has, born normal hearing and the loss has been progressive for my son) has been a lot on my mind. He is mainstreamed, and he acts uncomfortable being with deaf peers of his age, avoiding the deaf peers. When his TOD handed him a brochure of AGB (yes, Alexander Graham Bell)’s sponsored summer camp, he jumped at the chance of meeting other deaf oral kids of his age, wanting to go. I see he has some inner struggle of being a deaf person. I know that when he is good and ready, he will come to accept it… only in his time. He loves music and the last hearing test two months ago revealed that he lost another 10 dB, he cried and asked for upping his digital hearing aids’ volume. He can see that his sister has more hearing than he has, and she is happy going to Indiana School for the Deaf.
Would be easy just to tell him just to accept his deafness and to move on… but I can’t. Since everyone has his/her different way of dealing with his/her problems, there is nothing I can do, but just be there for him and give him supprt, letting him know that he has the power to make the best of his deafness, turn it to his best advantage, etc. Only his time.
Left by Karen Mayes (Deaf Niches) on April 10th, 2007
Karen,
I understand. As I said in my blog post, identity is a personal choice. It does not matter which way a person identifies him or herself. What matters is how we as the hearing and deaf communities treat them.We should welcome all with open arms and hold each individual in high esteem for whatever way they see themselves. As a mom, the most important thing you can do for your children is to validate that they are unconditionally loved, affirm that they are good enough and whole, and that they belong. I know you do this.
Nerdguy,
Thank you. My heart is full.
~ LaRonda
Left by LaRonda on April 10th, 2007
No, you are one in infinite… (Sorry, I had to!!!)
I love your unique way of writing styles and placing objects (pictures) to put into feelings.
I mean, I think of things like that - but in songs. I sing and feel in my heads with all kinds of pictures or events….but can’t bring them out.
Some people have the ability to show that in writings, singing, arts, or signing in ASL.
You have the talents in writing and arts - that’s powerful!
Thank you.
Left by IamMine on April 10th, 2007
Thanks IAMMINE.
I am blown away!
~ LaRonda
Left by LaRonda on April 10th, 2007
Thanks for giving me a glimpse of what it must be like to have something familiar changed like that. I liked that letter your friend sent. it was beautiful.
Interesting I was thinking about the article that Mark Drolsbaugh wrote. He talked about his son becoming deaf just like himself when he was younger but through the transition,they both had his deaf parents, deaf friends, CODA friends so the environment where the transition takes place seems to make a difference, doesn’t it?
Anyway, thanks for sharing.
Left by Jessica on April 10th, 2007
LaRonda,
I felt compelled to write. The sense of tranquilty shines through your musings, and it’s always felt soothing to come in here. Your style of writing brings to mind of Chinese philosophy where the transition of the mind comes into play.
Also, I feel I must comment on your recent foray into the identity concept. I too, have lived with this for much of my life. Having been born deaf into a hearing family whose perception went with the ‘broken’ viewpoint. I don’t know about others, but guilt came into being while growing up. Guilt stemming from being a ‘problem child’ - so to speak.
But I digress (and feel the need to approach this topic in my own blog)..
Truly, you do have a gift and the ability to use it well.
Thank you
RFW
Left by Rob W. on April 10th, 2007
Very good article. Speaks to me, too, as a strictly oral deaf moving past that circumscription now…
Left by BEG on April 11th, 2007
LaRhonda,
I love this one and I could relate to the identity exploration. I really enjoy reading your blog!
Left by Karen on April 11th, 2007
Hello LaRonda, no need to be too self-critical ha. Your style is rich and visual and provides abundant amount of spiritual wisdom. Since this is a new blog, I’m learning to soar along your expressive journey. I understand there is usually a lesson at the end. Keep on, your way!
Left by MikeS on April 11th, 2007
dear all
im asocial worker working at adeaf children school
i noticed that ther is areal idintity crisis spicial for those children whose parents didnt know sign language ,they are very poor children and i really empathy with them ,i always try to make there parents convenced with the emportance of communicating with thier children ,but several essues envolve,the most critecal is the parents acceptance for them ,now i make my master research on community mental health and i choose deaf idintity cricis to work at but i havent found enugh researchs related exactly to this adress .am asking for help please
Left by Ghada on May 12th, 2007