Are You Aware? An Effort to Hear
This is part VI in our Awareness Wednesday series on disability. Read the other posts in the series here.
As the daughter and sister of physicians on the COVID-19 front lines, I’m a dutiful adherent of social distancing and mask wearing these days.
But, as a person with total hearing loss, these strategies are hard. Social distancing means sound is farther from me. Mask wearing makes speechreading nearly impossible and further muffles the sound. As Roberta Cordano, the president of Gallaudet University, said in a recent New York Times article entitled “For the Deaf, Social Distancing Can Mean Social Isolation,” “The ‘two adults, six feet apart’ standard carries its own inherent bias, assuming all those social distancing are the same: that they are hearing, seeing and without any need of support.”
The article continued: “She added that a significant portion of the American population, including young children, older adults, deaf-blind people, and other people with disabilities, need people in proximity for their safety and well-being. As leaders begin to navigate a world already forcefully reshaped by the pandemic, Ms. Cordano said it was important that deaf-blind people ‘have a seat at the table on policy and design. Because our daily lives have always required us to adapt continuously, we have the natural skill, energy and commitment to adapt… It’s in our DNA to adapt and innovate.'”
The injunction to listen and include reminded me of words in MWEG’s official statement on confronting systemic racism: “We need to listen to, learn from, and follow leaders from communities of color who have already laid a path forward for us.”
I am not as experienced as I need to be in listening to the voices of Black Americans. And even with a disability myself, I am not as experienced as I need to be in listening to the voices of other disabled people. But I do have a few thoughts on trying to listen and understand better.
Recently, along with my husband Taylor and his colleague Tyler Griffin, I co-authored a book called “Hear Him: Listening to the Voice of God in Scriptures and in Our Lives.” In it, we explored President Nelson’s recent counsel to improve our personal ability to hear God’s direction for us individually.
Because of my experience struggling with physical hearing, in the book I tried to make connections between the efforts I make to hear those around me and the efforts I ought to make to hear God better. As I thought about writing this post, I realized that some of the same principles apply to listening and understanding our brothers and sisters, particularly those disenfranchised or unheeded by the majority. Here are a few thoughts:
- Just like I work to “prepare the acoustics” for physical hearing — coming close to the speaker, looking at the speaker’s face, ensuring there is little background noise — how can I “prepare the acoustics” to hear what my Black and brown and disabled sisters and brothers have to say? Am I willing to shift my position and even strain to hear them, as I regularly do to improve my physical hearing?
- Helen Keller, who was both deaf and blind, purportedly said, “Blindness cuts us off from things, but deafness cuts us off from people.” Conversely, careful listening draws us close to others, strengthening and deepening our relationships. Am I ready to strengthen and deepen my relationship with others through careful listening?
- An in-utero baby feels a bond with her mother even before birth, because she has listened to that mother’s voice. If we did better at listening to Black and brown voices, would they seem less “other” to us and more known?
There is so much potential for learning when we offer that seat at the table. When we shift our position and strain just a bit to hear and see better. When we look intently into the faces of our sisters and brothers who have been excluded.
Lisa Rampton Halverson is the senior director of the educate limb for Mormon Women for Ethical Government. She earned her PhD in instructional psychology and technology and now adjuncts for Brigham Young University and George Mason University. She grew up hard of hearing, lost all remaining hearing last year, and now relies on two cochlear implants. She lives in Springville, Utah, with her husband and her two children, both adoption miracles.
