Deaf people are struggling to find their favorite show or

When Sean Berdy declared, “Deaf people are struggling to find their favorite show or something that represents them. It's hard. There are some examples of shows that have a deaf storyline in one episode, like Cold Case, or another show where they are focusing on the cochlear implant or the medical aspect,” he was not simply speaking of entertainment. He was speaking of identity, of the hunger for reflection, of the universal human need to see one’s story mirrored in the great tapestry of culture. His words shine with sorrow but also with defiance, for they name the neglect of a people too often hidden in silence, yet yearning to be seen and heard.

The first truth he names is the struggle for representation. For the deaf community, the television screen often becomes a mirror that does not reflect them, a stage upon which their voices are absent or distorted. To find oneself only as a fleeting character, or as a medical problem to be solved, is not true representation—it is reduction. Berdy’s words mourn this scarcity, but also call it out for what it is: a failure of imagination by those who hold the power of storytelling.

The second truth lies in his mention of stories that focus only on the medical aspect. Too often, narratives of deafness revolve around the cochlear implant, the hospital, the surgery—treating deafness as an affliction, a problem to be fixed. Yet the deaf community is not defined solely by medical intervention, but by language, culture, and identity. American Sign Language, Deaf theater, and Deaf art are treasures that enrich humanity. To reduce this to a medical storyline is to miss the richness of lived experience, the heroism of community, and the beauty of a culture that thrives in its own language.

History bears witness to this struggle. Consider the Renaissance, when artists with disabilities were often hidden, their works attributed to others. Yet voices emerged—painters, sculptors, thinkers—who refused to be silenced. In the modern age, when Marlee Matlin won an Academy Award, it was not merely a personal triumph, but a declaration to the world that Deaf stories belong at the center of culture, not at its margins. Berdy himself, through roles like Switched at Birth, has carried forward this banner, proving that Deaf actors and Deaf characters can captivate audiences without compromise.

The deeper meaning of Berdy’s words is a call to justice: that representation is dignity. When a people are absent from art, they are rendered invisible; when their stories are reduced to pathology, they are dehumanized. To truly honor the deaf community is not to include them in passing, but to let them speak in their own voices, to let their culture breathe freely upon the stage and screen. This is not charity—it is truth, for every culture has a right to tell its story.

For us, the lesson is clear: do not be content with stories that exclude or distort. Seek out the voices of those unheard; amplify the stories of those left in silence. If you are a creator, open the stage to the deaf community and let them define their own narratives. If you are a viewer, support the works that honor diversity not as tokenism, but as truth. For the health of a culture is measured by whose voices it allows to be heard.

Practical wisdom follows: learn from the deaf community, embrace their art, and challenge media to move beyond fleeting storylines. Encourage authentic representation, where Deaf writers, actors, and directors shape their own narratives. And in your own life, remember that respect begins not in pity, but in partnership—in the recognition that Deaf culture is not a tragedy, but a triumph of resilience and creativity.

Thus, Sean Berdy’s words endure as a summons. Representation, respect, identity, and dignity—these are not luxuries, but necessities of the human spirit. Let us therefore labor for a world where every people can find themselves in the stories we tell, not as shadows or medical curiosities, but as full and luminous beings, whose lives enrich the vast drama of humanity.