In 2025, my life went silent.
After years of battling a rare ear disease and multiple surgeries,
I lost both ears — and one hundred percent of my hearing.
No eardrums. No ear canals. No vibration. No sound.

Just me, two cochlear implants, and a reality I never saw coming.

But becoming Deaf wasn’t the hardest part — it was how the world responded.
People mourned me like I’d died while I was still standing in the room.
They spoke about me instead of to me.

I no longer belonged anywhere.
The hearing world moved on without me,
and the Deaf world didn’t quite know what to do with me.
Online, I was told I wasn’t “Deaf enough,” “woke enough,” or that I signed like a hearing person.
Even the word “mute,” which I once reclaimed with pride, became controversial.

The truth is, I grew up in the hearing world —
hard of hearing since childhood, wearing hearing aids by fifteen —
and I adapted the only way I knew how.
Ironically, I ended up in one of the smallest and rarest groups of all:
silent, bilateral, profound Deafness — total silence in both ears.

So when I couldn’t find a place where I belonged, I built one.

That’s how DEAFIANT was born —
a rebellion against invisibility and a reminder that silence can still make noise.

DEAFIANT started as survival — a way to turn grief into grit,
silence into statement, and pain into purpose.
It’s for the ones who don’t fit neatly into either world —
Deaf parents, late-deafened warriors, CI users, CODAs, SODAs, and allies —anyone still showing up, still learning, still refusing to disappear quietly.

I didn’t build DEAFIANT to glorify Deafness.
I built it to glorify God — the One who carried me through it.

My Deafness shapes my story, but it doesn’t define my worth.
This brand isn’t built on pride — it’s built on power:
the kind that comes from surviving what should’ve broken you
and still praising God in the middle of it.