Angry Deaf Christmas Ornaments

Angry Deaf is my highly cathartic way of letting off steam. It's where I strike back at the everyday, often unintentional, casual audism that I encounter. Judging by the interest, those sarcastic barbs are hitting chords with other partially deaf individuals out there.

My main motivation is having fun. I no longer stoically make excuses during moments of inconsideration by others. I make notes instead. Then I make buttons and cards.

Yet there are less self-centered rationales too. Various comments received tell me that I'm subtly raising awareness about deaf issues. That's great! But I'm even more pleased when the single-sided deaf or otherwise hard of hearing check in.

These Angry Deaf products are my hug across the ether. My very first badge was made in the spirit of solidarity for a lady being bullied at work for being deaf in one ear.

Each button worn or postcard sent implicitly comes with a message - you're not alone. Someone knew enough to make this for you. It's not just you and your world.

I hesitated before applying my brand of scathing swipes to Christmas ornaments. After all, this is a holiday when all grievances are put aside, and love is supposed to prevail. It's a time of forgiveness and truce.

But it's also a time when those deaf in one ear, or subject to hearing loss in either ear, often feel most socially excluded. They stand on the out-skirts, watching their family chat in undulating groups around the room. They sit back as the Christmas specials blare from the television, while happy conversation ebbs over the top, and they can hear neither.

I figured that a hug across the ether, and solidarity on the side-lines, would be needed more than ever. You got it.

I both look forward to and dread the television shows at Christmas. So much effort has gone into them. Magical stories, the best comedy lines, epic special effects and a feeling of goodwill permeates the programming.

These shows are called the Christmas specials for a reason. They are written and produced with a view to all the family congregating to watch them, over a wee dram of festive cheer.

It's group entertainment, eliciting commentary about what's playing out on the screen, and the constant offers of top-ups for the drinks, and a plate of mince pies passing back and forth. It's not silent slumping before the box. It's the party continuing with pretty things to watch.

Therein lies the decision for the unilaterally deaf. None of the options are fabulous. They all contain some awkwardness or unwelcome consequences.

• Put up and shut up.  This is the favorite. But that means that you've now settled in for an hour or three becoming quietly more irritated whenever anyone speaks, shuffles or otherwise makes a noise.
  
  Plus you're ruining the Christmas specials for yourself. You'll have heard the dialogue fading in and out, and seen the pictures, so there's none of the unfolding drama left for when you watch them on-line later.
  
  No matter how determinedly positive and cheerful your initial outlook, you are being constantly assaulted by bursts of white noise. Sooner or later you'll be nursing a large glass of alcohol, while brooding over the fact that none of your family seem to either know or care about how you're experiencing this moment.

• Demand sub-titles on the television. You won't be able to hear the conversations bisecting the show, but at least you'll be able to follow the story on the screen. The distraction may help you keep your equilibrium and forestall slipping into depression and/or hating your loved ones on Christmas Day.
  
  It sounds like a good compromise, but I did this once and it was awful. The sub-titles gave me all the deaf awareness that I needed. Too much, in fact. The blatant and consistent reminder that someone here couldn't hear killed all conversation dead.
  
  Talk about a buzz kill! Everyone acted like they were too scared to move, which rendered the room silent enough for the sub-titles to be utterly unnecessary. It was deaf awareness at the expense of the majority hearing, which was no compromise at all.
  
  
• Leave. There's nothing stopping deaf dude simply decamping to another room. There are Christmas presents to explore, or maybe other televisions in quieter places. If all else fails, then there's a whole world waiting on the internet. The problem is removed and everyone is happy... ish.
  
  This is social exclusion taken to its zenith. This is the deaf pushed out, because there's no room for them in the family group, and everyone present knows it. Even if it's done quietly and unobtrusively, it's still a guilt trip for anyone who perceives what just occurred. It's still isolation for the person bravely redeeming their Christmas elsewhere in the house.
  
  Worse still, there will be family members who'll never get it. To them, you just rejected their company without cause.

Incidentally, these are also the same options (excepting the sub-titles one) for Christmas parties or any gathering, where multiple conversations take place around the same room. This is Christmas for those with partial hearing loss.

When I envisaged people hanging these decorations on their Christmas trees, it wasn't with any great fanfare and a spotlight trained upon them.

The majority of the messages, printed upon Angry Deaf Christmas decorations, are sneering, vitriolic or playfully dripping with sarcasm. They aren't at all in the festive spirit.

However they're subtle about it. They're festooned with the fonts and colors traditional to the season. Anyone glancing in their direction, without taking a closer look, will just assume that they're displaying some cheery slogan about peace on Earth.

But you'll know. When you're sinking into unintentional social exclusion, you can turn your gaze to the Christmas tree and see it quietly dangling there. Consider it an acknowledgement of your situation; a silent, unseen friend sharing this moment with you. Take the sentiment in wry Christmas cheer and belong again.

Or else you could use it to kick off. Flick it in passing, so people read it. It may serve as a quick burst of deaf awareness, just when it's needed.

If their audism really has gone beyond casual into deliberate, then hand it to them to make a point. After all, punching them in the gob really isn't in the Christmas spirit now, is it?