Safe and Sound: How Do You Feel the Beats When You Live in Silence?

I am deaf. I grew up in a deaf family and among a tightknit deaf community. Like a small Midwestern town, everybody knew each other. It was tough for me to figure out where I belonged, what space I wanted to take up, and what type of person I wanted to be. It was like swimming in a fishbowl. Even when I was in college, I felt like I was fighting to get out.

It was strange how good it felt to let life in. This exact moment was my chance to mold myself into the person I truly wanted to be.

When I was 19, my dad passed away. The friends I thought would provide the most support weren’t there for me, so I found peace through solitude. My dorm reeked of alcohol, and my environment was toxic. Helpless and afraid, I wasn’t sure where to turn for support and validation. It was only a few months later that I went to my first electronic music show in Baltimore, Maryland, and I fell in love. It was unconditional and fearless. The music surged through me. I felt life coming back into my bloodstream, and I saw every single person in the room glow. As I watched people connect, I myself became more vulnerable. I opened up to strangers. I listened to their stories, and I gave them the warmth they needed. It was strange how good it felt to let life in. This exact moment was my chance to mold myself into the person I truly wanted to be.

That first show changed my friends and me. Even the air was different among us as we walked through campus the next day. Not all of us stuck with the scene, but some of us saw how big our world was for the first time. I had found a culture that welcomed everyone. For the first time in my life, my actions followed my dreams. I stopped doing what the other people expected me to do. Being deaf, I was expected not to dance. How could anyone dance to silent beats? But what I could not hear, I felt. Vividly. I felt the beats, and my body moved to the rhythm. I was finally letting go.

It was amazing how easily I connected with the hearing people I met at shows. They had patience while I pulled out my phone to type, and they too made the effort to break the communication barriers between us. This was rare within the club and bar scene. When I went out with my deaf friends, random guys would grind against us. To make sure none of us were taken advantage of, we had to check in regularly with one another and make sure we all got home safely. On campus, parties weren’t much better.

All of this changed when my friends and I started raving. We made friends with the hearing people, and we could finally trust our environment. Words cannot adequately capture my love for the people I’ve met. When I’m not feeling my best, they create a space that helps me navigate through my despair. Friends like Kayla, Aimee and Hollywood encouraged me to pursue my passion for go-go dancing, even going so far as to bring me into their dance group. Everything was building.

My first EDC was in 2013, and it left me speechless. The second I set my eyes on the gorgeous world inside the Las Vegas Motor Speedway, my mouth dropped. Every glorious detail was gold to my soul. Everyone rode the same wavelength. These festivals are about bonding, and the 10 deaf friends I went with to EDC became family by the end of the weekend. Strangers I connected with through Instagram hashtags became the people I danced with in the water at a pool party during the week. People I met in lines for rides became my PLUR warriors, surrounding me with energy as the sun went up. Under the Electric Sky, we all live through peace, love, unity and respect. I left my vows with the stars to return, and I will see you on the dancefloor this year.