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The crux of disability is there is no one size fits all. It is always unique to the person, and that is what we must all appreciate. In my case, just because I can’t hear as well, doesn’t mean I can’t listen.
At the Opening Ceremony of the London 2012 Olympic Games, I led one thousand drummers, taking my cues from a screen and not an earpiece, as I rely on lip reading.
When you see this massive crowd, all waving, the energy goes beyond one particular sense. I was feeling, smelling, tasting, the whole occasion. Although there may have been slight differences in how I played, and how I experienced the sheer enormity of that incredible occasion because of my disability, my experience was no less.
The excitement, the physicality of playing to the Industrial Revolution scene, that earthy sound, the importance of teamwork, the responsibility - I felt it all.
I cannot appreciate music by simply listening to it on the radio, as I can’t hear enough to experience the music emotionally. But when I am playing, I can physically feel it - I can listen with my whole body. When I’m playing with other people, I can see the others playing around me, and I can follow the conductor by sight.
I feel the vibrations through my drum sticks and mallets by releasing my grip, and I often take off my shoes to feel sound through the platform. In everyday life, I can listen to the sound of wind in the trees by seeing the branches move, or birds as they dance in my garden.
There are, of course, some things which I cannot do. I can’t use the phone, so if I have car troubles or I need to call the bank, someone else has to do that for me. When I travel the world for work, my schedule is detailed minute by minute, and my team make sure concert promoters and taxi companies know that they need to text, rather than call me.
Making these straightforward adjustments doesn’t always seem to register with people though. I might be trying to sort out a utility bill and I need people to talk on my behalf. They explain why, and nine times out of ten, the person on the other end will say ‘I need to speak to Miss Glennie’, without having listened to why that simply will not work.
It can often go round and round in circles. Recently, I was at a railway station trying to talk to the person in the ticket booth. There was a solid section of the window in front of their face. I explained that I was deaf and needed to lipread so we could communicate. Would they move a little to accommodate? No. That’s really frustrating.
I would love to encourage more education in our schools talking about our senses and what they mean for both able-bodied and disabled people. Technology is moving at such a pace, therefore it is important that we are aware of how that is playing a vital role in our understanding of disability. That education must also teach us never to under-estimate disabled people.
Accessibility needs to improve everywhere – in the work place and social/entertainment settings. Once that happens we will become so used to being around people in wheelchairs, people with assistance dogs, or whatever the circumstance is.
Our perception of disability makes us forget disabled people can be good at things. It brought me real joy to see the deaf actress Rose Ayling-Ellis dance on Strictly Come Dancing.
To read more content from our week-long series on Disabled Britain click here .
It served as a wonderful reminder that a deaf person can be an amazing musician or dancer, or a blind person can be an amazing visual artist.
We must not think disabled people don’t have flair. They might just achieve their dreams in a different way – their own unique way.
