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166 Vikki Porter I Am Not My Ears Hearing aids can be a great asset for me, except when the “hearing” part doesn’t work anymore. Then they are of no “aid” at all. One time, my hearing aid malfunctioned . Work at that time was extremely busy so I couldn’t take time off. As a result, I was without sound for a while, which was fine with me. After all, I am not one of those people who live and die by the hearing aid. My office is in a patch of open space with a few people working alongside me. Questions or quick commentary are usually shouted across the room, and I’ve done my fair share of shouting. Occasionally, though, I would have my hearing aid (when it worked!) clicked off so I wouldn’t be easily distracted by the din. Colleagues usually knew what was up when that happened and would either wave their arms or stroll over and tap me on the shoulder to get my attention. So people quickly got used to my non-hearing-aid-wearing self and treated it like business as usual. All save for one. It was a typical busy morning for my department. We were rushing to meet last minute deadlines, while simultaneously juggling several major projects. A worker from another department came around our group. Apparently she said something to me, because T, my coworker who sat directly from me, waved at me and pointed in the direction of the worker. “Excuse me?” I politely uttered. “I didn’t catch what you said.” “I see that!! Where’s your hearing aid?” B barked, looking up and down my head in search for the missing hearing aid that is usually perched on my ear. “It’s broken right now.” I responded. “So if you are trying to talk to me . . .” I started to explain the usual methods of getting my attention. “Why is it broken??” B interrupted me in mid-sentence. “Why don’t you get it fixed??” “I don’t have the time right now. The office is really busy, as you can plainly see,” I gestured towards the few workers swarming like bees around some papers on a nearby desk. “Well, you need to get it fixed fast. How can you function without it? It’s too much hassle to not hear anything!” B exclaimed, shaking her head and crossing her arms in a disapproving manner. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw T slowly sink into her chair a little. A couple of coworkers stopped in their tracks in disbelief. Revised and reprinted from an October 2008 posting on the now-defunct website DCDeaf.com. Main_Pgs_1-330.indd 166 3/28/2012 10:24:54 AM Vikki Porter 167 “Why do I need to fix the hearing aid right now?” I asked, puzzled. “My hearing aid has no effect on how I do my work at all. You don’t see it jumping around on the keyboard typing out this latest document.” My sarcasm was lost on B. “It’s just a matter of what makes life easier for everyone,” she declared in a knowing tone. “And what do you mean by ‘easier for everyone’? You mean, easier for you at your convenience, perhaps?” I shot back. In a defensive tone, B stated, “I had a relative that’s blind. We had to help him out so many times. We even hired a caretaker to make sure he didn’t walk off a cliff somewhere.” She then fired off a litany of questions. “Well, how can you function without hearing anything? I can’t imagine. What if an emergency is going on and you can’t hear it? How can you hear your kids? How can you do anything for yourself?” Over the years, I’ve learned to pick and choose my battles. There were some I shrugged off, a few I waged against passionately, and those that I chalked up to just plain denseness that no amount of education could cure. But B’s patronizing demeanor just irked me so much, with her “I-know-just-what’sgood -for-you-better-than-you-do” smirk plastered on her face. Then the chorus of a song called “I Am Not My Hair” by the singer India.Arie ran through my mind. In this song, India.Arie sings that she is not her hair, skin, or what other people expect from her. In other words...

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