NOVEMBER 9TH IS NATIONAL MICROTIA ATRESIA DAY

Most people don’t realize that I am hearing impaired. My condition stems from a rare congenital birth defect called Microtia Atresia, which affects individuals born with missing or underdeveloped ears (Microtia) and absent or underdeveloped ear canals (Atresia), resulting in hearing loss.

In my case, my right ear has no opening, no ear canal, no eardrum. The bones are misshapen and fused together, and my facial nerve runs in an unusual place. When I was born, the doctor looked at my mother and, in a moment I can only describe as cruel and shocking, told her that if she didn’t want me, he would take me. Thankfully, she refused his offer. But that comment—careless as it was—lingered like a shadow over my sense of self for many years.

The consequences of this disorder reach far beyond the physical. The impact can be psychological, educational, emotional, and social. Children with Microtia Atresia are often bullied because they look different. They may fall behind in school because they cannot hear well. Many struggle with body image, growing up feeling defective or unattractive.

I know this pain firsthand. As a young person, I wrestled deeply with shame and self-consciousness about my ear. I eventually wrote a paper titled “Dignity Versus Shame” to make sense of my feelings trying to reclaim a sense of worth from something I had been taught to hide.

Some children undergo multiple surgeries to reconstruct their ears, grueling operations that may use cartilage from the ribs and skin grafts. I once met someone who had endured thirteen surgeries to recreate an ear. In my case, my doctors decided against surgery, fearing they might paralyze my face since my facial nerve was in an unpredictable location. I’ve always carried that decision with mixed feelings, grateful for their caution yet wondering what might have been different.

The emotional burden isn’t only carried by those of us with Microtia. Many mothers silently shoulder guilt, wondering if they did something during pregnancy to cause it. But recent research from Vanderbilt University has found a genetic component to Microtia, bringing comfort and relief to many families who have long searched for answers.

Living with hearing loss has shaped every part of my life. In college, I carried around a large tape recorder to make sure I didn’t miss important parts of lectures. In social settings, I sometimes withdraw, not because I’m disinterested or aloof, as people may assume, but because I simply cannot hear. That misunderstanding can be isolating.

Until recently, I had never met another woman with Microtia—a lifelong wish of mine. Since the condition affects more men than women, I often felt alone in my experience. That changed when I connected with the Ear Community, an organization founded by Melissa Tumblin, a devoted mother whose child was born with Microtia. Melissa introduced me to several other women in my age group, and we met on a Zoom call.

That conversation was profoundly healing. We shared stories of struggle, resilience, and self-acceptance. Two of us admitted that we still cover our ear with our hair, a habit rooted in old shame, while another woman spoke confidently about wearing her hair short and embracing her difference. Her boldness inspired me deeply. For the first time, I began to believe that I, too, could let go of the shame I had carried for so long.

Although I recognize how fortunate I’ve been compared to others’ experiences, I still face daily challenges with hearing. Sometimes, it’s almost comical how my brain scrambles to reprocess what I think I heard. But even in those moments of confusion or frustration, I remind myself of the resilience I’ve built, the compassion I’ve gained, and the strength that comes from turning difference into dignity.

On November 9th, as we recognize National Microtia Atresia Day, I hope we not only raise awareness of this rare condition but also honor the courage of those living with it, the children, the parents, and the adults still learning to embrace themselves fully. Behind every imperfect ear is a story of survival, self-discovery, and, ultimately, self-love.