Article written by Sofia Mirpuri – actress and producer

 “Acting is listening.”

It’s one of the first things you learn as an actor, and perhaps one of the most important.

During my acting training in New York, one of my teachers used to say: “Listen with your eyes as well as with your ears.”

She was teaching us to be present, to observe our scene partners, to notice the smallest changes in their expressions, their body language, their silences. To pay attention to everything they communicate, beyond the words themselves.

For me, that lesson had a particularly personal meaning.

I was diagnosed with progressive sensorineural hearing loss when I was 14 years old. Today, at 32, I have significant hearing loss in both ears and rely on hearing aids to navigate a world that isn’t always particularly accommodating.

And yet, somewhat ironically, I chose a profession in which listening is everything.

I’m a Portuguese actress and producer. I spent several years in New York studying acting, I’ve worked in film, television and theatre, and I now run my own production company in Lisbon.

Of course, I questioned whether someone with hearing loss could pursue a career like mine. Those doubts never stopped me from throwing myself into it, though. I wanted to be an actress, so I went for it, figuring I would deal with the challenges as they came.

And I did. Or rather, I continue to.

There are situations where understanding what someone is saying requires an enormous amount of concentration. Conversations in noisy environments, people speaking over one another, someone turning their back while talking. Sometimes I catch only fragments of a sentence and have to reconstruct the rest. Other times, I simply miss something.

It’s an invisible effort that most people don’t notice, and it can be exhausting.

Over the years, I’ve come to appreciate my teacher’s words even more. As an actress, I pay attention to expressions, gestures, intentions and everything that exists beneath the dialogue. I wouldn’t say that hearing loss makes me a better actress, but I do believe it has influenced the way I observe people and approach my work.

For a long time, I tried to silence what made me different. Growing up, I wanted to hide my hearing loss as much as possible. I was afraid people would notice and start treating me differently.

At some point, I realised my obstacle could also be my mission. I could use my experience to create something that might help other people feel less alone.

Becoming more open about my hearing loss, however, brought a different concern: the fear of being put in a box, of having everything I do seen through the lens of my disability.

I’m an actress with hearing loss. I’m also a producer, a daughter, a friend, an ambitious woman with an endless list of things she wants to accomplish.

I want to embrace my difference while still having the freedom to be seen for everything else I am. Sharing my experiences publicly has allowed me to connect with people who recognise themselves in my story, and I’m grateful for that. I’m learning that I can acknowledge how much hearing loss has shaped me without letting it become my entire identity.

There’s another aspect of living with progressive hearing loss that has deeply influenced me.

Time.

Tic-tac. Tic-tac.

When you know you’re gradually losing something, everything else suddenly feels urgent.

I have no idea what my hearing will be like in five, ten or twenty years. That uncertainty has become a sort of invisible clock, constantly reminding me that time is passing.

There’s always another project to develop, another opportunity to pursue, another step towards the future I’m trying to build. Resting doesn’t always come naturally to me. Sometimes, it feels like time I could be spending getting closer to something I want.

I’ve often wondered whether I would feel the same urgency if my hearing weren’t deteriorating. I’ve always been ambitious, but I believe that invisible clock has made me even more determined to take risks and stop postponing things.

That feeling eventually became the starting point for a television series I’m developing, Listen to My Lips.

navigating progressive hearing loss, relationships, insecurity and the overwhelming pressure to figure out her life before time runs out.

The series draws from my own experiences, exploring ambition, belonging, identity and the fear of falling behind in life. Feelings I believe many people, with or without hearing loss, can relate to.

Working in the audiovisual industry has also made me particularly aware of the barriers that still exist. It’s frustrating that I sometimes can’t fully enjoy the very art form I dedicate my life to. Portuguese films without subtitles, theatre performances without captioning, conferences and talks where accessibility hasn’t even been considered.

These are experiences I genuinely miss out on, and a reminder that some barriers require changes beyond individual determination.

As for everything else, I continue to pursue what I want and figure things out along the way.

I’m also trying to enjoy the present more, although that familiar tic-tac has a habit of making itself heard.

Perhaps that’s the part I’m still working on: giving my own life the same attention my acting teacher taught me to give the person standing opposite me in a scene.

After all, acting is listening. And I’m still learning.