As I drive the family minivan, with hip-hop music blasting against my sanity, I look in the rearview mirror at my daughter snug in her car seat and entranced with the world passing by her window. We head to our fourth medical appointment of the day, and the radio is tuned to the local hip-hop station. The base thumps and vibrates as we roll along, accompanied by the shrill high-pitched feedback of her hearing aid mold that is just slightly out of place. My daughter can’t hear—she is deaf. They tell me that she might hear low and loud noises, so our preferred NPR station has been replaced by music with a thrumming base.