Guest Post - I've known Derek since 2002. In that 16 year span, we've both grown up, matured, found our footing, harnessed our sarcasm, and transitioned from high school kids to full blown adults with careers and mortgages and, for one of us, children. A lot of things have changed, but one thing that hasn't? Derek still has hearing aids...and I still do not.
I’d like to say that, when I first met Derek, the last thing
I noticed was his hearing aids. I’d like
to say I never picked up on the slight differences in the way he spoke, in the
tone of his voice. I’d like to say I saw past the obvious, that didn’t register
at all. I’d like to say all of these
things…but I can’t. Aside from the fact
that Derek was tall, witty, and handsome, I noticed Derek’s hearing loss right
away.
Initially, I probably did all the things people do when they
notice someone is hearing-impaired or deaf:
I overcompensated. I spoke and
e-n-u-n-c-i-a-t-e-d my words differently– a bad habit I picked up from years of
trying to communicate with my hearing-impaired grandfather. I was hyperaware of
the way my lips moved when I talked, thinking about all the ways I shaped
vowels and consonants in a way I thought Derek could hear them. I worried about saying the wrong thing,
thinking a question or unrelated sarcastic comment would halt our friendship in
its tracks. I thought about Derek
differently, both as the person he was but also as a person who is
hearing-impaired and navigating what I assumed to be a more complicated world.
I did what we all (probably) do: I saw the hearing-impaired person, not the
person with hearing aids. And I saw this
hearing-impaired person through the lens of my own imagination and biases and
allowed that to be the first filter I applied to the friendship.
Then the cliché: I
got to know Derek. The whole Derek. And the whole Derek was hilarious, sarcastic,
mischievous (emphasis on that one), engaging, friendly, competitive, and…”a typical
teenage boy” in a way most other typical teenage boys were. Because of course he was. But let’s be
honest, Derek was that way from the start.
It was I who had to peel back my own self-made barriers and reflect on judgments
I had created to see it.
When we first meet someone whose differences we can see, who
triggers something in us, the challenge isn’t in failing to see those
differences or building a wall around personalizing something that clearly is
not ours to own. The challenge is taking
those components in with the entire picture, of not seeing the parts but the
whole. Because to pretend that Derek
doesn’t live in a world different from my own would be ridiculous – of course
he does. But to pretend that Derek’s
differences define our every interaction is worse.
In this vein, I can’t, and don’t, pretend my friendship with
Derek is without specific differences. I
have be aware of what direction I’m facing when speaking to him. I have to be
more mindful while communicating in situations that challenge verbal
communication. I have to be more
purposeful in the way I say things like “Manu Ginobili sucks” or “I hate CSU”
(wouldn’t want him hearing those things as “Go Spurs go” or “I’m proud to be a
CSU Ram.”). But I have to do all those things not because I’m trying to place
Derek in a separate box or treat him differently or coddle him. I have to do
those things – choose to do those things…want to do those things…just do those
things - because doing those things allows me to be a part of Derek’s
life.
I can’t speak to how being hearing-impaired has affected
Derek – only he can do that. What I can
speak to is how having Derek as a friend, and therefore befriending someone who
is hearing-impaired, has affected me. And truly, aside from the initial predispositions (which were clearly
all mine and served as a good self-check and life lesson) and the slight
variation in the way we communicate, the rest is…well, delightfully
boring. Because in the end, people are great
friends because they become great friends and are incredible people because
they become incredible people. And as we well know, incredible people, like Derek,
aren’t defined by their disabilities, their challenges…by their separate parts
– they’re defined by the sum of their being, which in Derek’s case, just
happens to include hearing aids.