Photo courtesy of Union University.
I sat with my older sister in her apartment bedroom as quietness lingered in the peak hours of the night, an array of cords and chargers for her phone, along with her cochlear equipment, covering her nightstand. Books rested in a stack next to a half-empty Coke can. The only source of light that cozily illuminated her room was her bedside lamp. I fiddled with the blue and white floral comforter below me.
“There’s a difference between using your disability as a crutch and just being honest with your disability,” Makayla Baker, enrollment counselor for the Office of Undergraduate Admissions, said.
Truthfully, this did not feel much like an interview. I knew it wouldn’t. It felt more like an addition to our list of late-night conversations that we have whenever both of us have no obligations to be anywhere the next day.
I knew there would be something to gain from this because I always learn from our conversations. It made sense to continue to learn so much from someone who been forced to discover so much about herself through difficult circumstances.
Growing up deaf shaped her experiences — but it did not define who she is.
This journey began for Baker in one of her earlier memories, when she realized that she was “different” from other kids in her daily habits.
“I remember during the phase of life when sleepovers were a thing,” Baker said while playing with the ends of her hair. “I just remember feeling different because nobody else was having to put their hearing aids in a drying jar, you know?”
Audiology appointments for hearing tests became her normal, and Baker knew this was not the norm for most kids her age.
As she reminisced on these memories from her childhood, I reminisced too. I only tagged along for a few of these trips as a kid, but I still recall my fascination when watching my sister sit in a booth for an hour, listening to different sounds being played back to her to test how well she could hear them.
While my sister at times found these routines old, I kept finding intrigue in them. As she viewed the processes as something she knew a lot about, I continued to want to know more.
Old routines and challenges passed, and new ones arose when starting middle school.
Baker shared that her transition from hearing aids to cochlear implants was physically overwhelming, but it was also challenging for others to understand.
“Nobody truly understood what that was like,” Baker said. “Because I didn’t know anybody that had made that transition before.”
It was, in fact, hard for me to understand, and it still is. I’ve never experienced it, and neither has my family. We realized this was a unique journey for my sister, and we knew this would take another level of support that could only be found from the Lord. And so kindly, He gave it to us in perfect timing.
Despite knowing what to expect after her second surgery, it was not any easier for her to find her balance again and get used to new sounds, as well as deal with the recovery pain. It became a pivotal moment of displaying vulnerability while also beginning to understand her limits and strengths.
“I had to overcome my pride with that,” Baker said. “I had to really come to terms with the fact that yes, it’s noticeable, and yes, it’s a very clear indicator that I am different in some ways.”
Baker recalled her days of gymnastics and competitive cheer, when one of her coaches shifted her perspective of her disability to see it as a superpower. Rather than finding disdain with it, she changed the narrative for herself and started to view her difference as something she appreciated.
However, the trials never stopped there. When entering college, it was a new ballgame for Baker and her hearing journey.
“We really were going through this whole discussion of: do we need to go to the Office of Disability Services?” Baker sat up as she began to recall those contemplative questions again. “Or, you know, have I been able to prove that I truly can advocate for myself and ask for help when I need it?”
Eventually, she decided to test herself by vocalizing her disability to her professors on her own, rather than through the Office of Disability Services. She went without accommodations.
My mind went to this thought: “Wouldn’t it have just been easier to have accommodations?”
For some, it would have been the easiest option. For some, it would have been the right one. But, of course, thanks to my sister’s desire for absolute independence in all areas of her life, she chose what she knew would be nerve-wracking and challenging. She knew she could learn how to genuinely advocate for herself through making this decision.
Ask yourself this: How do we grow if we never do things that are hard or make us uncomfortable?
I’ve asked this question of myself since the beginning of college. It continuously pushes me to keep doing the things that are out of my comfort zone, and it plays a part in my testimony of how the Lord has worked — and will continue to work — in my life.
That is exactly what it has done for my sister in her journey, and I have seen the fruits of how she has grown. When elaborating on how the Lord used Union in her time as a student to play a significant role in her journey, she did not hold back in giving credit to her professors.
Whenever Baker asked for content to be repeated in class, her professors never made her feel shame for it. Instead, they reassured her that her disability was not a hindrance to them or her education.
“I think sometimes people look at their disability as something to be ashamed of, but also something that’s keeping them from something,” Baker said. “In reality, yes, it can be a hurdle. But that hurdle doesn’t have to make or break you, you know?”
Fran Thomas, assistant director for campus ministry and women’s discipleship and former mentor to Baker, attested to Baker’s growth in confidence. Her disability never discouraged her in her time as a student worker in the Office of Undergraduate Admissions.
“She quickly learned that it didn’t impact her. It’s just a part of who she is,” Thomas said with a proud smile.
I share that pride with Thomas. It’s special to watch from the sidelines, seeing my sister learn how to find the happy medium of advocating for herself and know how to display healthy vulnerability within such a physically and mentally challenging journey.
It’s because my sister did hard things that I can do hard things too.
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