Don’t You Dare

There are always difficult family dilemmas to deal with, and ‘don’t you dare’ was something family members said to me as a child and young person when I wanted to do ordinary things that were seen as ‘risky’, such as going for a walk in the city of London while I was at university aged 21. I passed my driving test at 17, but was not congratulated; instead I was told, ‘you can’t have my car.’ Riding a bike, being the cashier in our family shop aged 14, ‘don’t you dare,’ was said to me, and no answers were given when I asked, ‘why?’

Frustration was a common feeling for me growing up, but I still did the things I wanted to do even though no one shared the joy of doing them with me.

This encapsulates the feeling of the personal self being out of place and the lack of appreciation when I turned up and helped out. My ability to solve problems and deal with complex situations was not always recognised, and what I as a deaf person did often surprised them and me.

I didn’t see myself as an able person until I noticed my children pushing me to go first.