A Birthday Reflection | September 30, 2026

There is something about the last day of September that makes you look back a little longer than usual.

Maybe it is because September is ending. Maybe it is because I am also adding another year to my life. Or maybe it is because, somehow, this particular September became much more meaningful to me than I expected.

I have never really been the guy who gets extremely excited about birthdays. I don't usually count down to midnight, make a massive announcement, or suddenly become a full-time birthday philosopher. 😂 There is nothing wrong with celebrating life, of course, but birthdays have always made me think more than they make me celebrate.

Another birthday or another year naturally comes with the regular questions: What have I done with the year? What have I learned? What have I become? What still needs to change? What am I carrying into the next year, and what should probably stay in the previous one? And very important; Why am I still broke? 🥲😫very real

This year, however, This September gave me more reason to reflect and show out instead of being non-challant about my birthday and guess what it was: Deaf awareness.
What started as an idea to write about Deaf awareness turned into seven days of me digging into things I had been thinking about for a while: access, sign language, education, representation, Deaf culture, participation and human rights.

The timing also happened to line up with the World Federation of the Deaf's International Week of Deaf People, which ran from September 21 to 27, 2026, under the theme “Declaring Deaf People’s Human Rights.” This year was also the 75th anniversary of the World Federation of the Deaf, founded on September 23, 1951. (World Federation of the Deaf)

And honestly, the more I wrote, the more I realised that this wasn't just another content series for me. It became a conversation with myself. I started with “Deafness Is Not the Barrier. Access Is.” because sometimes we look at Deafness itself as the problem when the bigger issue is what happens when society fails to provide access. Then I moved into language and education, asking a question that I think deserves more attention: what exactly does education mean when a person does not have full access to the language through which that education is delivered?

That conversation led naturally into sign language and human rights, because language is not just about communicating what you had for breakfast. Language is tied to education, identity, participation and how people experience the world. Then came the uncomfortable but necessary question of accessibility itself: Why should a Deaf person have to bring accessibility with them?

Why does the responsibility so often seem to fall on the person who needs access to arrange everything before they can participate? Why is the expectation sometimes, “Bring your interpreter,” instead of, “How do we make this environment accessible?” Then came one of my favourite themes of the entire week: Nothing About Us Without Us. Even reading it for the first time, it sounded deep and I was like “mmm hmmm”. That one made me think about something beyond policies and programmes. It made me think about stories. Who gets to tell the story of Deaf people?

Too often, Deaf conversations begin with what Deaf people supposedly lack. They cannot hear. They need this. They need that. There are barriers here and challenges there. Those things matter, but Deaf people are not simply a collection of things they need. There are Deaf entrepreneurs. Deaf professionals. Deaf creatives. Deaf parents. Deaf students. Deaf athletes. Deaf actors. Deaf fashion designers. Deaf business owners. Deaf people who are wealthy, middle-class, struggling, famous, unknown and everything in between. There isn't one Deaf story. There are millions of them.

And then we got to Deaf culture, which reminded me that Deaf people are not simply people waiting to be “included” in somebody else's world. Deaf communities have their own languages, identities, histories, cultures and ways of connecting. The final article brought everything back to the bigger question: 75 years of human rights, but what do those rights actually look like in everyday life?

The WFD describes this year's final theme as a continuation of its 75-year history of working for Deaf people's human rights, alongside the recognition of national sign languages and Deaf culture. Its message is simple: Deaf people's rights are human rights. (World Federation of the Deaf). That sounds obvious, and yet, sometimes the simplest things are the ones we still have to explain because there is a difference between having a right and being able to exercise that right.

A right to education means more than simply having a school building somewhere.

A right to information means more than information existing somewhere online.

A right to participate means more than being invited into a room where you cannot fully participate in the conversation.

A right to work means more than putting “equal opportunity” on a poster.

A right to communication means more than telling Deaf people to figure it out somehow.

That difference between what exists on paper and what people actually experience is where inclusion becomes real. That is probably the biggest thing this entire September has made me think about.

Deaf awareness should not have an expiry date.

September can end. The hashtags can slow down. The campaign graphics can disappear from timelines. People can move on to the next trending topic but Deaf people are still here.
They will still be going to work after October 1st. They will still be going to school. They will still visit hospitals, attend church, run businesses, create content, sit in meetings, buy things, sell things, study, fall in love, raise families, complain about bad customer service 😂 and live ordinary lives so what happens after September?

That, to me, is the more important question.

If you run a business, think about Deaf customers.

If you work in education, think about Deaf learners.

If you create content, think about Deaf viewers.

If you organise events, think about Deaf participants.

If you work in entertainment, fashion, technology, healthcare, banking, media, government, sports or any other sector, ask yourself a very simple question: Where are Deaf people in this picture?

And not just as people we are talking about.

As people who are actually there.

As customers.

As professionals.

As creators.

As decision-makers.

As leaders.

As participants.

As human beings.

That last part matters to me because sometimes advocacy becomes so complicated that we forget the simplest foundation of it all. Deaf people are human beings. They don't need to become extraordinarily successful before we decide they deserve inclusion. They don't need to inspire us first. They don't need to prove that they can “overcome” Deafness. They don't need to perform some incredible achievement before their dignity becomes important. They matter and maybe that is part of what growing older has made me understand too.

I don't have everything figured out. Far from it. There are still many things I want to achieve. There are things I thought I would have accomplished by now that I haven't. There are things I am still learning, things I am still building and, honestly, things I am still trying to understand about myself so I don't want to pretend that turning another year older suddenly gives me all the answers because it doesn't, but it does give me another opportunity to pay attention to what genuinely matters to me and somewhere along this journey, Deaf inclusion became one of those things. I didn't plan for September to become this reflective. I didn't plan for a seven-day series to make me rethink how I see language, access, representation, culture and human rights. But it happened, and I am glad it did.

So, yes, September gave me two reasons to reflect. One is that I am entering another year of my life. The other is that this month reminded me of something I don't want to leave behind when the calendar changes.

My birthday is personal but the lesson I am taking from this September is bigger than me. I want to keep learning. I want to keep asking questions. I want to keep talking about Deaf inclusion in places where it is sometimes forgotten. I want to keep encouraging people to think beyond awareness and into actual inclusion because inclusion should not be something we remember only when a particular month tells us to remember it, and Deaf awareness should not disappear simply because September has ended.

The World Federation of the Deaf's work itself makes that point in a much bigger way: 75 years after its founding, the work is still continuing. (World Federation of the Deaf)
Maybe September didn't give me two completely different things to reflect on after all, maybe they are connected. Another year of my life and another reminder of the kind of world I want to contribute to.
A world where Deaf people are not constantly treated as an afterthought. A world where sign language is recognised, access is planned, Deaf voices are heard, Deaf culture is respected and inclusion is not considered a special favour.

A world where we stop asking, “How do we fit Deaf people into what already exists?” and start asking, “Why wasn't everyone considered from the beginning?” That is the thought I am carrying into this new year of my life, and before I completely leave September behind, let me do one more thing. I know some of you did not see all seven articles from the Deaf Awareness series because I did not post every article with its link across every platform, so I have brought the series together.

You can catch up with the stories by clicking on the topic for each day's theme below:

Day 1 - [Deafness Is Not the Barrier. Access Is.]

Day 2 & Day 3 - [International Day of Sign Languages: Language Is a Human Right, Not an Option]

Day 4 - [Why Should a Deaf Person Have to Bring Accessibility With Them?]

Day 5 - [Nothing About Us Without Us: Maybe We’ve Been Telling the Deaf Story Wrong]

Day 6 - [Deaf Culture Is a Human Right]

Day 7  [75 Years of Human Rights: Are Deaf People Really Enjoying Those Rights?]

And now this one, the personal reflection that brings the month to a close. If you have not read any of them, maybe this is your sign to start.
Go through them. Think about them. Challenge something I said if you disagree. Agree with something if it resonates with you. And please, leave a comment on the website. I don't want these pieces to just sit there as articles people read and forget. I want them to start conversations.

September may be ending. The conversation shouldn't, and as for me…
Happy birthday to me. 🥂 Another year. Another lesson. Another reason to keep going. ❤️

International Week of Deaf People 2026 - Day 7
September 27, 2026

Seven days.

When I started this series, I knew I wanted to talk about Deaf inclusion, but I honestly didn't expect each day's theme to make me think this much. Every day seemed to open another door to a conversation I thought I already understood, only to realise there was still another layer underneath it.

And now we are here. Day 7. The final day of International Week of Deaf People 2026. Today's theme is “75 Years of Human Rights.” It marks 75 years since the World Federation of the Deaf was founded in 1951, with a vision connected to the rights, dignity and participation of Deaf people around the world. Seventy-five years later, the work continues, and the WFD's message is clear: Deaf people's rights are human rights. (World Federation of the Deaf) but that statement made me stop because saying that Deaf people's rights are human rights sounds obvious. Of course they are.

The real question is: what does that actually look like in everyday life? What does a human right look like when the person exercising that right cannot access the information they need?

What does the right to education mean when a Deaf learner does not have full access to their language?

What does access to healthcare mean when communicating with the doctor becomes a struggle?

What does the right to work mean if communication barriers make it harder for a qualified Deaf person to get or keep a job?

What does participation mean if important conversations are happening around you but you cannot fully participate in them?

This is where I think human rights become more than words written in documents because it is very easy to say, “Everyone has rights.” The harder part is making sure everyone can actually enjoy those rights. A Deaf person does not need a special version of human rights. They do not need a separate category of dignity, they do not need society to create a completely different definition of opportunity for them.

They need the rights that already belong to them as human beings to actually work in their lives. That is why everything we have talked about this week is connected.
On Day 1, I wrote about how Deafness is not the barrier. Access is. On Day 2 and Day 3, we talked about education, language and why language is a human right, not an option. Day 4 made me think about what accessibility really means when a Deaf person can enter a place but cannot fully access the information or conversation inside it. Day 5 took us into “Nothing About Us Without Us” and the importance of Deaf people being part of decisions and stories that concern them. Day 6 brought us into Deaf culture, identity and the fact that Deaf people are not simply defined by what they cannot hear, and now Day 7 brings everything back to one question:

Are we actually creating a world where Deaf people can enjoy their human rights in the same practical way everyone else does?

Because I think there is a difference between having a right and being able to exercise that right. You can tell someone they have the right to healthcare, but they still need to be able to communicate with the healthcare system.

You can say education is for everyone, but Deaf learners still need meaningful access to language and learning. You can say everyone has the right to participate in society, but participation becomes difficult when communication access is missing. You can say everyone deserves equal opportunity, but opportunity means very little if the systems around you were never designed to include you. This is why I have started seeing Deaf inclusion differently.

It is not simply about being kind to Deaf people.

It is not about doing something nice for Deaf people once in a while.

It is not about feeling sorry for anyone.

And it is definitely not about treating Deaf people as inspirational simply because they are Deaf. It is about rights.
It is about recognising that Deaf people are already part of society and should not have to constantly prove that they deserve to participate in it and perhaps that is one of the biggest things I have taken away from this entire week. Before I started looking more deeply into Deaf inclusion, I could easily have thought that the conversation was mostly about sign language and accessibility. Now I realise those things are connected to almost everything else.

Language connects to education.

Education connects to opportunity.

Opportunity connects to work and independence.

Communication connects to healthcare and public services.

Participation connects to representation.

Culture connects to identity.
And all of these things connect back to something much bigger: Human dignity.

That is why I don't want this series to end with people simply thinking, “Oh, this was a nice Deaf awareness campaign.” I want us to think a little further than that. Because awareness is useful, but what happens after awareness? Do we become more willing to learn sign language?

Do businesses start thinking about Deaf customers differently?

Do schools think more seriously about language access?

Do event organisers consider Deaf participants before the event rather than after someone asks for an interpreter?

Do employers see Deaf people as professionals and potential colleagues rather than people they need to “manage”?

Do we stop telling only stories about Deaf people's struggles and start telling stories about their businesses, careers, families, creativity, culture, achievements and ordinary everyday lives?

Do we actually listen when Deaf people tell us what inclusion means to them? Those questions matter because 75 years is a long time.

The World Federation of the Deaf was founded in 1951. Since then, Deaf communities and organisations around the world have continued advocating for recognition, equality, sign language rights and participation. The CRPD, adopted in 2006, also established an international human-rights framework for persons with disabilities, including recognition of the importance of sign languages and the rights of Deaf people. (World Federation of the Deaf)

But 75 years is also a reminder that human rights work is never simply finished because we have written the words down. There is always the gap between what we say people have a right to and what people actually experience.

And perhaps that is where the next 75 years should take us.

Not just more declarations.

Not just more awareness days.

Not just more hashtags.

But more implementation.

More Deaf leadership.

More accessible communication.

More recognition of national sign languages.

More Deaf people involved in decisions that affect them.

More opportunities.

More listening.

More ordinary moments where a Deaf person does not have to explain why they deserve access and maybe, eventually, we will reach a point where inclusion doesn't feel like a special project anymore. It will simply be normal.

A Deaf person walks into a hospital. Communication is available.

A Deaf person attends an event. They can follow what is happening.

A Deaf person applies for a job. Their Deafness is not automatically treated as a limitation.

A Deaf child learns in a language they can fully access.

A Deaf entrepreneur builds a business.

A Deaf person becomes a leader.

A Deaf person becomes an artist.

A Deaf person becomes a teacher.

A Deaf person becomes famous.

Or they become none of those things.

They just live.

And they still have their rights.

That should never be something they have to earn.

So, as I close this seven-day series, I keep coming back to the same thing, maybe Deaf inclusion isn't really about creating a special place for Deaf people in society. Maybe it is about finally recognising that they were always part of society. The question is whether we are willing to make that society accessible enough for them to fully participate in it.

Seventy-five years of Deaf advocacy is worth celebrating. But it is also worth using as a reminder that the work continues. The World Federation of the Deaf itself describes its 75th anniversary as both a moment to reflect on achievements and an opportunity to look ahead. (World Federation of the Deaf) and for me, that is a good place to end this series.

Not with pity. Not with a “look how difficult life is for Deaf people” message.

But with a much simpler thought: Deaf people have rights because they are human. Not because they are Deaf. Not because someone feels sorry for them. Not because they have achieved something extraordinary. Not because they have convinced society that they are worthy. Just because they are human. If we truly believe that human rights belong to everyone, then Deaf people should not have to keep asking for permission to enjoy theirs.

This is Day 7 and the final day of my International Week of Deaf People 2026 series.
Seven days of conversations about access, education, language, human rights, accessibility, participation, representation, culture and identity. I started this series wanting to talk about Deaf inclusion. I am ending it with a much bigger understanding of what inclusion actually means.

It means Deaf people being able to live, participate, communicate, create, work, learn, belong and dream without their rights becoming negotiable because they are Deaf. Perhaps that is the conversation we should keep having long after this week is over.

Because Deaf people's rights are human rights.

When people hear the words “Deaf culture,” the first thing that probably comes to mind is sign language. That makes sense because sign language is such an important part of Deaf communities. But Deaf culture is much bigger than the movement of hands. It is about identity, community, shared experiences, history, values, creativity and the feeling of belonging to a group of people who understand the world in ways that may not always be obvious to those outside the community.

For many hearing people, deafness is introduced almost entirely through what a person cannot hear. We talk about hearing loss, hearing aids, cochlear implants, communication difficulties and the challenges of living in a world designed largely around sound. Those conversations have their place, but when that becomes the whole story, something important gets lost. A Deaf person is not simply someone who cannot hear. There can also be a language, a community, a history and an identity attached to being Deaf and that is why culture matters.

Imagine growing up and constantly being described by what you supposedly lack. Now imagine discovering a community where you don't have to explain yourself so much. A place where the language feels natural, where communication doesn't have to be forced into the expectations of the hearing world, where people share experiences that you recognise immediately. That sense of belonging is not something insignificant. It is part of what makes a community a community.

This is the point Sign language becomes much more than a communication tool. Languages carry stories. They carry humour. They carry traditions, expressions, relationships and ways of understanding the world. National sign languages develop within Deaf communities and, like spoken languages, they evolve over time. The World Federation of the Deaf notes that national sign languages and Deaf cultures originate from Deaf people and their communities. (World Federation of the Deaf)

So when we talk about protecting sign language, we are not simply talking about helping Deaf people communicate with hearing people. We are also talking about protecting something that belongs to Deaf communities themselves.
This is why I find the phrase “Deaf culture is a human right” so powerful. It changes the conversation.

It tells us that Deaf culture should not be treated as some interesting side topic that hearing people can observe during Deaf Awareness Week and then forget about when the week ends. The Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities recognises the importance of respecting and promoting the specific cultural and linguistic identity of persons with disabilities, including sign languages and Deaf culture, under Article 30. (World Federation of the Deaf) And honestly, I think there is something beautiful about that.

Because inclusion should not mean asking everyone to become the same. It should mean creating a society where differences do not become reasons for exclusion. Deaf people should be able to participate in education, entertainment, politics, business, fashion, sports, technology, religion, the workplace and every other part of society without having their culture treated as an inconvenience. Deaf people should not have to leave their identity at the door just to be accepted into spaces created for everyone.

Now, hearing people have a role to play too.

Learning sign language is one way to show interest and build communication. But Deaf inclusion cannot end with memorising a few signs. We also need to learn about Deaf history. We need to listen to Deaf people. We need to support Deaf creators, professionals, businesses and organisations. We need to understand that Deaf people are not simply recipients of inclusion; they are contributors to society, creators of culture and people with their own voices, ideas and experiences and yes, sometimes that means we have to be willing to learn something without immediately trying to “fix” it.

Not everything that is different needs to be corrected. Sometimes it needs to be understood.
This is also why representation matters. If the only time we see Deaf people is when the conversation is about disability, inspiration or overcoming challenges, then we are still seeing only part of the picture. Deaf people can be funny. Creative. Ambitious. Political. Stylish. Religious. Entrepreneurial. Romantic. Dramatic. Annoying. Brilliant. Ordinary. Extraordinary. In other words, human.

There is a tendency to talk about Deaf people as though they are one big, identical group. They are not. Deaf communities are diverse, and Deaf culture exists across different countries, languages, backgrounds and experiences. There is no single Deaf experience that can completely represent everyone but there is something powerful about people coming together around shared experiences, language and identity.

So perhaps Deaf Awareness should not only teach hearing people how to communicate with Deaf people. Perhaps it should also teach us how to appreciate a culture that has existed, developed and continued despite generations of barriers because Deaf culture is not something that needs permission from the hearing world to exist. It already exists.

The question is whether the rest of us are willing to recognise it, respect it and make room for it.

Today, on Day 6 of International Week of Deaf People 2026, that is the reminder: Deaf culture is not an extra. It is not a footnote to Deafness. It is not something to celebrate only once a year. It is part of identity, language, community and human dignity.

And if inclusion really means everyone, then there should be room for Deaf culture too.

Deaf culture is more than sign language. It is identity. It is community. It is history. It is belonging. And it deserves to be respected as such. The work does not end when we learn how to sign “hello.” Sometimes, that is only where the conversation begins. 

International Week of Deaf People 2026 - Day 5
September 25, 2026

The more I think about today's theme, the more I realise how deep it actually is. “Nothing About Us Without Us” sounds like a simple statement at first, but the more you sit with it, the more questions it starts to raise. Who gets to speak about Deaf people? Who gets to make decisions that affect them? Who gets to tell their stories? And perhaps, most importantly, what kind of story are we even telling?

A lot of the conversations around Deaf people naturally begin with what they lack. They cannot hear. They face communication barriers. They may need interpreters. They need better access to education, healthcare, employment and public services. These conversations are important, and I am not suggesting we stop having them. But the more I learn about Deaf inclusion, the more I think there is another side that deserves just as much attention: what Deaf people have built, what they have achieved, and the lives they are already living.

Because sometimes, when we talk about Deaf people, we accidentally make Deafness sound like the biggest thing about a person but it isn't. A Deaf person can be an entrepreneur. A teacher. An actor. A lawyer. A fashion designer. A filmmaker. An athlete. A content creator. A business owner. A professional. A parent. A student. A politician. A chef. A person who is doing absolutely nothing extraordinary and is simply living their life.

And yes, Deaf people can be wealthy. They can be middle-class. They can be struggling financially. They can be poor. They can be famous. They can be completely unknown. They can live in a mansion or a one-room apartment. They can have a thriving business or be looking for their first job. Deafness does not come with a bank balance, a social class or a particular kind of life attached to it. I think that is something more people need to understand.

There are Deaf people around the world who have built careers and achieved things that millions of people know about. Marlee Matlin became the first Deaf performer to win an Academy Award for acting, and decades later, Troy Kotsur became the first Deaf man to win an acting Oscar. (Oscars Newsletter) Nyle DiMarco became known internationally through America's Next Top Model and Dancing with the Stars and went on to build work around Deaf education and advocacy. And then there are people like Christianah Adenrele, a British-Nigerian Deaf fashion designer and founder of Christianah Jones, whose eyewear brand has counted celebrities including Beyoncé, Lady Gaga and Billie Eilish among its customers. (Forbes)

But here's the part I think is important: we shouldn't only mention successful Deaf people to prove that Deaf people are capable. That would still be another problem. A Deaf person shouldn't have to win an Oscar, build a million-dollar company or become famous before we stop seeing them through the lens of what they supposedly cannot do. The point is not that Deaf people are amazing because a few of them became famous. The point is that Deaf people are people, and just like the hearing population, their lives are incredibly diverse.

Some will become famous. Some won't. Some will become very successful. Some will have ordinary careers. Some will struggle. Some will make mistakes. Some will build businesses. Some will work for somebody else. Some will become leaders in their communities. Some will simply live quiet lives that never make the news.

And all of those lives matter.

That is one reason today's theme, “Nothing About Us Without Us,” is so powerful to me. The World Federation of the Deaf says Deaf people should be at the center of decisions that affect their lives, with Deaf-led organisations playing an important role in shaping inclusive policies and advancing rights. This principle is also connected to Articles 4.3 and 33 of the Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. (World Federation of the Deaf) but I think we can take the idea beyond policies and meetings.

What if “Nothing About Us Without Us” also means nothing about our stories without us?

Because it is very easy to tell a story about Deaf people from the outside. You can talk about their challenges. You can talk about discrimination. You can talk about accessibility. You can talk about sign language. You can even talk about Deaf culture but there is something different about allowing Deaf people to tell you what those things actually mean from their own experiences.

Imagine a group of people sitting in a room discussing what Deaf people need, while the Deaf people who will eventually use the programme are somewhere else.
Imagine creating a campaign about Deaf people without asking Deaf people what they think about the campaign.
Imagine designing technology for Deaf users without involving Deaf users in the process.

Actually, this isn't just theory. The World Federation of the Deaf has been making this same point in its work around technology: solutions should be developed with Deaf communities and grounded in their lived experiences, rather than simply being designed for them. (World Federation of the Deaf). That is the difference between saying, “We know what is good for you,” and saying, “Tell us what you actually need.”

And I think that difference is important for people like me who want to advocate for Deaf inclusion because advocacy can sometimes become strange if we're not careful. We can become so eager to speak for people that we forget to create space for them to speak for themselves.

We can become so focused on telling people about Deaf people's struggles that we forget to tell people about their businesses, their creativity, their humour, their families, their careers, their achievements, their communities and the ordinary parts of their lives. We can become so focused on saying “Deaf people need this” that we forget to ask “What do Deaf people think?”

And maybe that is part of what today's theme is asking us to change.

The Deaf story should not always be a story about overcoming.

It doesn't always have to be a sad story.

It doesn't always have to be an inspirational story either.

Sometimes it can just be a story about a Deaf person who built a business.

A Deaf person who fell in love.

A Deaf person who became a doctor.

A Deaf person who makes terrible jokes. 😂

A Deaf person who is doing very well financially.

A Deaf person who is still figuring life out.

A Deaf person who is famous.

A Deaf person nobody knows.

A Deaf person who has big dreams and another Deaf person who is perfectly happy with a quiet life.

There is no single Deaf story. There are millions of them.

And I think that is where “Nothing About Us Without Us” becomes much bigger than a slogan. It is about representation, yes. It is about participation in decision-making. It is about Deaf-led organisations having a seat at the table. But it is also about recognising that Deaf people should not simply be characters in stories written by everyone else. They should be authors of their own stories.

They should be part of deciding what gets discussed, how it gets discussed, and what the world gets to see about Deaf life because if we only show the barriers, people may start believing the barriers are the whole story and they are not.

There is a whole world of Deaf people building, creating, leading, working, loving, laughing, succeeding, struggling and simply living and perhaps the more honest way to tell the Deaf story is not to pretend the challenges don't exist. It is to stop allowing the challenges to become the entire story.

That is what I am taking from today's theme.

Nothing About Us Without Us.

Not just when policies are being written.

Not just when programmes are being designed.

Not just when decisions are being made.

But also when the story is being told.

Because maybe we have been telling the Deaf story wrong when we keep asking, “What do Deaf people lack?” Maybe we should also be asking: “What have Deaf people built?”

And even better: “What do Deaf people want the world to know about them?” Maybe that is where the real conversation begins.

This is Day 5 of my International Week of Deaf People 2026 series.

Today's theme is “Nothing About Us Without Us (CRPD Articles 4.3 and 33).”

And honestly, I think it is one of those themes you cannot fully understand by just reading the words once. You have to sit with it because sometimes, inclusion isn't about speaking louder for someone. Sometimes, it is about making sure they are in the room, giving them the space to speak, and actually listening when they do.