After putting her own spin on her hearing aids, this accessories designer—whose art has appeared on celebrities at the Oscars—finally feels she looks like herself.

By Jenni Ahtiainen

My hearing loss started when I was very young, though I didn’t know it at the time. As I got older and became more interested in boys and red wine, I realized I had trouble hearing the boys’ voices.

I assume my hearing loss increased due to childhood violin rehearsals and later singing in a band in my late teens and early 20s. Back then we played very loud music in a shoebox-sized basement with no thought of ear protection.

Things got much worse when the eardrum ruptured in my right ear. That’s when I realized how bad my hearing really was, especially in my left “violin ear.” After tests, doctors also discovered I’d had childhood infections that did their own damage. They wanted to try surgery, but my hearing improved slightly so they held off.

While I could function, I felt socially isolated as my hearing worsened in my 30s. I couldn’t follow conversations anymore. And for me, having conversations and expressing my opinions was everything. I’d become a wallflower—an unconventional, black leather–clad flower without words.

Finally, my doctor said it was time for hearing aids in both ears. Though I expected it, my first reaction was pure shock; I was going to be living with hearing devices for the rest of my life.

I cried about my destiny to my drummer friend Alina, who laughed and told me, “But hey, you’re not the only one”—she’s half deaf too! I didn’t realize how many of us who played music without hearing protection—because we didn’t know any better—were affected.

I tried to analyze why I was reacting this way. Why was I having difficulty accepting hearing loss and needing hearing aids? I realized that if you have bad eyesight, you can choose eyeglasses that suit your own style, no matter if you’re a woman, man, child, rocker, hipster, or goth.

But if you have bad hearing, you are stuck with medical-looking devices for the rest of your life. I noticed that you couldn’t even find pictures of beautiful, hard of hearing people in any lifestyle, fashion, or beauty magazines. Apparently, these magazines don’t find people with hearing devices attractive enough to be published.

I’ve always been a problem-solver. I’ve been able to self-reflect and see the world outside my own box. So, I got my hearing aids. And when my audiologist put them behind my ears for the first time I told her I was going to make these rock.

On a day off from work that week, I was in my workshop. I took the hearing aids from behind my ears, held them in my hands, and started to think. At that point I’d been working on my own accessory brand, called gTIE, for 14 years. I’d designed accessories for celebrities like Marilyn Manson, Snoop Dogg, and Bono, so tuning things up and designing unique personal pieces was just my thing.

The medical look of my hearing aids was not me, and as a designer it was just natural for me to want to change that. So the week after I got my hearing aids, I started to personalize them.

First I made a small leather holster around the hearing aids, and then I hung some leather strips and chains from it. Suddenly, they felt more like something I would wear. They looked like me. I looked like me.

I took a picture of my new design. I posted it on Instagram and Facebook and told my customers what had happened to me and my hearing. As I was doing the first post, I was trying to think of the right hashtag to describe my innovation.

“Deafmetal” came into my head like a light. The word ”deaf” refers to metal as a silent material around the hearing aid and the word ”metal” to the substance of the jewelry. Deaf metal... silent material. And the word Deafmetal funnily enough suits my personal image as a designer. I totally look like “deafmetal.”

I was shaking with excitement when I made the first post about this new creation. My gut was saying I’d done something truly different. And my gut was right. My post started to spread like wildfire among the hard of hearing community. In a very short time it had 220,000 views.

The next week Finland’s hearing association contacted me, the media was getting in touch, asking questions and writing stories about me, and the first hearing aid manufacturer contacted me to ask about collaborating. I had suddenly, unexpectedly, become a face for hearing loss.

I started getting requests from other hearing aid users who wanted their own Deafmetal accessories. Even then, I wasn’t thinking that I’d become a hearing aid jewelry designer and switch from working with the Bonos and Snoops to working with hearing devices.

But when I noticed that day after day I was making hearing device users happy, their feedback was the thing I started to hunger for. After working in the fashion sector for many years, for the first time I felt that I myself, and my work, was honestly important and rewarding.

Deafmetal was born in August 2018. My goal was to create better life, style, and safety for people like me, so I developed a flexible jewelry holder from silicone which is now the Deafmetal Holster that fits multiple brands and styles of hearing devices. The chains and cuffs I incorporated into the jewelry took Deafmetal beyond just styles—they also created solutions to safely keep hearing devices securely attached.

As a designer my range broadened. I pulled myself out of the eccentric cave where designers usually live. I started to design all kinds of different jewelry pieces, to suit all kinds of people.

Just two months after Deafmetal was born, we won the 2018 New Product Prize at the biggest handicrafts trade show in Europe. We are also proud to have been awarded the Creative Business Cup in Finland in 2019, placing second in the Global Finals the same year.

Despite the pandemic, Deafmetal grew globally through online sales. We now have distributors worldwide, from the U.S. and all across Europe, to Japan, Australia, and South Africa. Though we’re still small, we’ve produced tens of thousands of Holsters and have created new products for people who wear cochlear implants and BAHAs (bone anchored hearing aids).

And though my hearing will only be getting worse, probably due to some genetic problem (my mom wears hearing aids too), I’m grateful for this technology that allows me to verbally ignite and engage with others. My hearing aids became part of me when I transformed them, and through Deafmetal I hope others who are hard of hearing will be inspired to more openly embrace the technology they need to hear and engage with the world.

My hope is to also use Deafmetal as a bigger tool in preventing hearing loss in our youth. By partnering with artists and musicians to promote hearing health and safe listening practices directly to their fanbases, we can try to prevent what can’t be undone.

I’ve worked in the fashion industry for many years with some of the biggest bands and artists alive, and have had my accessories worn at the Golden Globes and Oscars, and styled artists at the American Music Awards.

But still, I have never felt as important as a designer as I do now. For the first time I feel my designs actually have a deeper meaning. The work I do is not superficial. It has a deeper function: to change the lifestyles of hard of hearing people and to normalize hearing problems.

Back in the day people were ashamed of eyeglasses… and look where we are with them now. With Deafmetal, I’ve even been asked to design fake hearing aids so that people with typical hearing could be able to wear our jewelry.

Change isn’t coming, it’s right here.

Jenni Ahtiainen is the founder and creative director of Deafmetal, based in Finland. For more, see instagram.com/deafmetalcommunity  and deafmetal.com. This is the cover story in the Winter 2024 issue of Hearing Health.

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