Nuanced Identity

I recently asked an AI to write a simple definition of nuance, and this is what it provided: "Nuance refers to subtle variations or distinctions in meaning, expression, or tone that can change the overall interpretation or perception of something. It is often used to describe the fine details or finer aspects of a situation, idea, or conversation that may not be immediately apparent or obvious. Nuance can be important in communication, as it can affect how a message is received and understood by different people and can lead to deeper insights and a more accurate understanding of complex topics."

Curious, I asked the AI for a definition of "Identity," and this is what it gave me: "Identity refers to the characteristics, traits, qualities, beliefs, values, and experiences that define who a person is in relation to others and to themselves. It encompasses a person's sense of self and their understanding of their place in the world. Identity is shaped by a range of factors, including genetics, upbringing, culture, social interactions, and personal experiences. It can be influenced by both internal and external factors and can change over time as a person grows and develops. Identity is an important aspect of human psychology and plays a significant role in shaping how people perceive themselves and interact with others."

With those two words and descriptions in mind, I want to talk about my deaf identity and how these experiences kept me from speaking my whole truth. Hearing loss is not a choice; it is a natural occurrence that some experience either from genetics, a virus, or life circumstances. My hearing loss was predetermined or highly possible before I was even born. While I was born hearing, I eventually lost my hearing overnight at age 6. Although I lost a majority of it overnight, it was still a slightly gradual loss starting at age 3. My parents watched me grow into the happy self I was and also saw me shy away from what brought me joy before my hearing loss. That is when they decided to get the cochlear implant just 6 months after my hearing loss. It was not an easy choice, as they tried every avenue to restore my hearing before eventually committing to the cochlear implant. Looking back, I am eternally grateful for their courage. I share all this to illustrate just how much went into these choices that would later be questioned by strangers.

Fast forward to when I was 14-15 years old. I had recently gotten my second cochlear implant and was invited to attend a deaf festival. For years, there has been a stigma surrounding those who are deaf and have cochlear implants. It was considered "unnatural" or a "betrayal of heritage," among other beliefs. With more people getting cochlear implants and a growing understanding, it was becoming more and more accepted, or so I thought at the time. My whole family, who are hearing, joined me in visiting the deaf festival, and the moment I walked through the doors, I felt all eyes on me and felt judged. I was fluent in American Sign Language (ASL) when I first lost my hearing, and I tried so hard to remember everything and communicate with grace. However, I did not feel welcomed. I got into the van, and my parents noticed what I was feeling, and we talked about the hearing world and the deaf world. I simply wanted to have the best of both worlds, but that did not feel possible with the way the culture was surrounding cochlear implants. I decided to simply not be fully present in the deaf community and instead created my own deaf teen support group for those with cochlear implants through a children’s hospital. It was there that I found community, determination, and purpose. Each of them knew exactly what it was like to be deaf, wear cochlear implants, and deal with the best of both worlds. I eventually created a website for deaf teens, and that gave me a passion like no other. During high school, I often wondered if the deaf community would be more accepting if I were an adult. Up until that point, I lived in this middle place, a nuanced place of identity.

In 2014, I was doing a church mission and had the opportunity to be partnered up with another missionary who knew ASL, where we got to open up a new way to serve in the deaf community. I was rusty, but we practiced with excitement. I was thrilled about this opportunity. At the beginning, we began visiting a deaf senior center. Right away, a few individuals saw that I had cochlear implants and they did not want to have anything to do with me but preferred to sign with my hearing companion who knew ASL. I was stunned. I quickly found myself back in that nuanced place of identity. I fought back the emotions of not being welcomed. It was hard.

At this time, I also knew I was gay but was really "praying the gay away" as I could not deal with any more rejection for something that is an integral part of me. As the years went by, I got married and had three amazing kids, but in order to accept this part of me, I needed a support group to lean on. Rather than hiding deeper or turning to unknown tunnels, I opened up to my wife. She was the support I so desperately needed. Being in what is known as a "mixed-orientation marriage" often comes with an even more nuanced place of identity. All we know is what we know right now and today. While there are many studies about how these marriages end up, we choose to focus on today and today alone. We can't afford to be fixated on the future of things as it gets more and more complex. The same applies when I was just starting out with my first cochlear implant. We could have been fixated on trying to get me into the best colleges when I was merely 7 years old, but instead, we focused on what words I could learn to speak that day, what color block I would listen for next, and taking on the next level the following day. Repeat again and again until I spoke in front of hundreds of people throughout my high school years and then got invited at age 18 to speak at a graduate graduation class of occupational therapists. Eventually, I created a YouTube video talking about what a cochlear implant sounds like, which reached over 100K views. If you had told my parents and my younger self that I would achieve all this by simply learning to listen to the color of the blocks, we would have laughed.

Being gay and deaf with cochlear implants has given me a unique perspective of the world and how we all need to be a little more loving to the person next to us who is trying to feel welcomed and valued. I recently overheard someone we are close to sharing the conspiracy theories they believe on how one “becomes gay.” The whole theory dehumanizes the real human experience. That stung and did not make me feel welcomed. Thankfully, I had my circle of support to rely on, and they did not have to say much other than "I see you." There is so much more complexity and nuance to all identities and life. I hope everyone can seek a support group or be the support group for those they know and focus on what they can do today to be their authentic selves or focus on what they can do to help, whether it's being an ally, a friend, offering kind words, or giving a hug to someone in need.