Deafness and the Internet: A Level Playing Field at Last

My friend and I couldn't have a more different attitude towards the online world if we tried.

In real life, she is gregarious, open and confident.  As an extrovert, she makes friends easily and can enter into a meaningful conversation with anyone. 

I've tended to follow in her wake, letting her do most of the talking.

She is also dyslexic.  The advent of the internet, with its emphasis on text, was met by her with horror. This was her nightmare scenario - a world where the written word rules.

She can read.  She's highly intelligent and has letters after her name to prove it.  But it's so much hassle. 

The conditions have to be right.  She has to concentrate hard enough that headaches and exhaustion are the inevitable result.  Or, of course, she can fork out lots of money for speaking computer programs and other things, which broadcast her business to anyone in earshot.

Naturally this is met with, at best, a grudging acknowledgment that this is the way that the world is now.  At worst, it's underscoring how differently her brain works, and that has the potential to dent that deserved high self-esteem.

On the other hand, I'm profoundly deaf in one ear.  Conversations that spill out in text form on forums are paradise for me. I'm no longer struggling against the incessant background noise of society.

I leapt into cyberspace with both feet and a cheery banner waving out the legend, "Whoo-hooo world!  Here I come!"

I'd always been happier in one-on-one conversations in quiet rooms.  It reduced the risk of people talking over each other, thus creating white noise and excluding me from participating.

You can imagine then the glee with which I encountered my first e-mail.  This was perfect!  A series of personal discussions, with as many friends as were online, cutting through time-zones across the whole world.

It was like the universe opened a door and hailed me with a welcoming, "Come on in!  The water's great!"

It should have come as no surprise therefore to learn that Vinton Cerf (who led the programming of the world's first commercial email program) is partially deaf.  He's a man also responsible for many other aspects that are now fundamental to the world wide web.  Cerf is Google's vice-president for a start.

Then there were forums, live chats happening with dozens of people typing away.  I was not required to hear. No-one asked, nor needed to know, whether I was fully hearing, deaf or any permutation between. 

For the first time in my life, such considerations were irrelevant.  I stood and fell on my own merit, without worrying about suppressing my frustrations nor if I'd heard all of the facts.

There is no deafness on the internet.  At least not unless you're checking out a video or being linked to a song. 

Of course, verbal chat programs, like Skype and Vent do occasionally allow the real world factors to play out online too.  But you have the option of side-stepping them without feeling like you're missing the best part.

Or, like I do, you keep to conversations solely with those aware of your limitations, and who will ensure that they are never an issue.

For me, it wasn't so much the Age of Technology and Information, but the Age of Joining Human Society.

Fellow Wizzley author and artist Ragtimelil created those wonderful pin button badges to help us out. Yes, she's another deaf woman here!

One of the biggest bug-bears of my life is the seeming inability of anyone to watch the television in silence.

I've never understood why viewers felt the need to discuss all that they could see.  Like the program could only be enjoyed with a running commentary in the room. 

But then, those conversations were just clashing discordant sounds to me.  Annoying, excluding and, if it went on too long, painful in its propensity to drain. It was a form of drip-drip torture, which has left me with a strong antipathy towards television.

Not the programs.  I quite merrily watch those online, where I can use headphones and block out all background noise.  Just the chatter of hearing people over it.

Then I finally got a taster of what that is all about. 

My friend had a movie, which she was sure that I would enjoy.  She played it on her computer and streamed it into a channel.  I logged on to watch it with her.  No clash of sounds, as we could both only hear the film itself.

But alongside the stream was a chat channel.  We could type into it.  As the story progressed, we began doing just that.  We commented on the action; made quips about the characters; noted when something made us jump/laugh/cry/think.

It became a sociable occasion.  Not just one person experiencing a televised journey on their own, but a communal moment. 

I finally understood why people talk over television shows.  They are just being friendly and interacting in a way that forges bonds.  It's all part of the human condition, but alas, not for me in real life.

I'll watch a movie or show online, with typed commentary in chat, any time that someone wants to invite me in.  That was great!  Plus it's just one example of how deaf, or partially deaf, individuals find inclusion online.

Until now, I've discussed how the coming of the internet improved dialogue between deaf individuals and the rest of the world. 

It can be read as an aid to integrating us into a hearing world.  But that isn't the only community out there.  The world wide web is a brilliant way of prising the deaf from isolation into a vibrant society of those who understand.

It puts us into contact with each other!  Suddenly tips and tricks can be shared.  Issues are highlighted.  Action groups can be formed. 

We can raise awareness of new gadgets or procedures, that would make life easier back out in the hearing-oriented world.  Like, for example, an Induction Loop System.

Empathy and support are given.  Real world awkward situations are joked about and dissolved in a large vat of humor.

I may be the only person in my town or peer group who has unilateral hearing.  But I'm one of many on the internet. I no longer have to feel like I'm different and, in the immortal words of Bob Dylan, 'baby can't be blessed until she finally sees that she's like all the rest.'

This reaching out across cyberspace can do more than salve social matters, it could save lives. When the tips include things like fire alarms for the hearing impaired, then life and death really could come into play.

In all kinds of ways, the internet has been a true gift for people with any level of deafness.  I just feel sorry for the dyslexic, for whom the world just flipped in the other direction.