Locked Out by Design: How Banks Engineer Deaf Exclusion

How banking still punishes Deaf customers and how to fix it properly

Banks love to show off their “accessibility.” A shiny BSL video link on the homepage. A polished post during Inclusion Week. Maybe a token training slide about interpreters. On the surface, it looks like progress.

But when it really matters, when your account is frozen, when fraud flags stop your card, when you need urgent help at the worst possible time; the mask slips. The system shows its truth.

It was never built for us. It was built for hearing people. And Deaf customers are left to bend, to struggle, to beg for access to something everyone else takes for granted.

I know, because it happened to me.

All I did was change my phone and reinstall my banking app. A routine, everyday task. But the bank treated it as suspicious.

At 10pm, a text appeared: “Please call us immediately to confirm this is you.”

But I can’t call. I’m Deaf.

Their BSL sign-video service wasn’t available because it shuts down outside office hours. As if fraud only ever strikes neatly between nine and five.

So the next morning, I tried again. I used their own video-interpreting tool, the very service they promote as proof that they are accessible.

And still, the fraud team refused to speak to the interpreter. They told me that using an interpreter was suspicious.

Think about that.

The one tool designed to give me equality was twisted into “evidence” that I was a fraudster.

The very service banks hold up to regulators and the public as their badge of inclusion was treated by their own staff as a security risk.

My account was frozen. My money - untouchable.

And this isn’t just about me. It’s not a glitch. It’s the predictable outcome of a system built around voice; a system where hearing is assumed to be the only safe channel, and where Deaf people are treated as an afterthought, or worse, a threat.

It leaves us with the same brutal message, over and over again: if you can’t call, you don’t exist.

And the cost is not small. According to the Lending Standards Board, only 73% of UK financial firms even offer live BSL support at all, and fewer than half provide face-to-face interpreter access in branches. That means millions of Deaf customers are excluded from critical services that regulators already say must be accessible.

Meanwhile, fraud losses in the UK hit £1.2 billion in 2022 (UK Finance). When Deaf customers are systematically blocked from fighting fraud in real time, they don’t just lose money; they make the entire system weaker.

The Real Reasons This Keeps Happening

Banks like to say they’ve made progress. They point to the BSL video tiles on their homepages, the “awareness day” campaigns, the glossy accessibility statements. It looks like movement, even progress. But none of that touches the machinery underneath; the fraud checks, the identity gates, the systems that decide who gets access and who gets shut out.

That’s where the real discrimination lives. And unless those foundations are rebuilt, Deaf customers will always be locked out at the very moments that matter most.

This isn’t about slogans. These are the real reasons the system still punishes us:

1. Hearing-first design

Everything that holds power in banking; fraud, risk, complaints is built for voice. Phone conversations and verbal security checks are treated as the “real” standard. BSL video gets bolted onto the edges, on the “general enquiries” side.

But the second something serious happens; fraud, a frozen account, an urgent approval; the system snaps back to voice. And just like that, we’re excluded.

2. Out-of-hours inequality

Fraud doesn’t wait for Monday morning. But banks act as if it does. Hearing customers get 24/7 fraud lines; Deaf customers get “office hours.” That isn’t accessibility; it’s a curfew.

If your card is blocked at 10pm, hearing people resolve it in minutes. Deaf people are stranded overnight, sometimes abroad, sometimes unsafe, simply because access closes when staff clock off.

3. Bias baked into the algorithm

Fraud teams treat “speaking on the phone” as proof of authenticity. Use an interpreter? Send a secure message? Try live chat? Too often, those are seen as less trustworthy; sometimes even as evidence of fraud. So Deaf people aren’t penalised for risk.

We’re penalised for existing in a way the system refuses to recognise as valid. Our very language becomes a red flag.

4. The ‘not on the runbook’ problem

Bank staff work from scripts and runbooks. If video relay, interpreter services, or secure chat aren’t written into that script, staff default to refusal. “We can’t accept this; you need to call instead.”

That’s what I was told. Deaf customers don’t fail security checks. We fail the design of the manual.

5. Voice = certainty; Deaf access = delay

Voice biometrics, call-backs, spoken passphrases; these are treated as the “gold standard.” But Deaf-friendly options like app push confirmations, cryptographic device checks, or secure in-app messaging are either absent or treated as second-class.

So we’re pushed into weaker, slower routes: letters in the post, in-person branch visits, days without access to our own money.

6. Accessibility where it doesn’t matter

Banks test the shiny bits. The homepage. The PR campaigns. The compliance checklists. They don’t test the moments where lives are on the line: a fraud review at midnight, an emergency card replacement abroad, a mortgage verification call.

The parts that pass audits are the parts that don’t matter. The parts that fail are the ones we actually rely on.

7. No Deaf leadership

Here’s the core of it: when Deaf people aren’t in the room, no one asks the right questions. What if the only route is a call? How do we ensure interpreters are trusted? What guarantee of parity exists at 2am? What proof do we publish that Deaf and hearing customers get the same outcomes?

Instead, banks congratulate themselves for “adding BSL video,” while Deaf customers are still left with frozen accounts, failed mortgages, and silence when survival depends on access.

This isn’t accidental. It’s systemic. Until banks stop treating Deaf access as a “bolt-on” and start redesigning the core machinery of risk, fraud, and security, exclusion isn’t just possible; it’s guaranteed.

Where Exactly It Fails: The Journey Map

Think about what it’s like to be a customer. Not in theory, but in reality - step by step, through the daily journey of using your bank. Now imagine that at almost every stage, the system is quietly waiting to trip you up, because you’re Deaf. That’s not an exaggeration.

That’s the truth of how the system is built. Here’s how it plays out:

1. Onboarding & device binding

You buy a new phone. You reinstall your banking app. A totally normal, everyday act of modern life. But suddenly you’re locked out; flagged as fraud. The only way back in?

A phone call. Deaf customers aren’t punished for suspicious behaviour. We’re punished for upgrading a phone.

2. Authentication & two-factor (2FA)

The text comes through: “We’ll call you with a one-time code.” But Deaf customers can’t take that call. Sometimes alternatives exist; hidden, buried in settings, slower and clunkier. Hearing customers clear security in seconds.

For Deaf people, it means hours or days locked out of our own accounts.

3. Real-time fraud alerts

The worst message you can get: “Please call us now to confirm this transaction.” Because if you can’t call, your account freezes. No equal channel, no way to prove it’s you, no way to stop the freeze.

What takes hearing customers five minutes leaves Deaf customers stranded; abroad, unsafe, or cut off from their own money.

4. Card lost/stolen & travel locks You’re robbed. Your card is gone. Panic hits. Hearing customers dial a 24/7 hotline and cancel it instantly. Deaf customers? We’re told to wait until “the service reopens.” Fraud doesn’t sleep. Emergencies don’t clock off at five. But Deaf access does.

5. Investigations & underwriting

Banks love the phrase “just a quick call.” Fraud teams, underwriters, credit checks; someone always needs to “hear your voice.” If you don’t answer, you fail.

Deaf customers aren’t judged on credit history or honesty. We’re judged on whether we can pick up a phone.

6. Resets & recoveries

Forgot your PIN? Locked out of your account? Hearing customers call and reset it instantly. Deaf customers are told to wait for a letter in the post.

Days without access to your own money, not because of fraud but because of design.

7. Complaints & redress

And if you try to fight back? Good luck. Most complaint routes aren’t BSL-accessible. Forms aren’t clear. Processes aren’t explained. Deaf customers often give up before they even begin not because the injustice isn’t real, but because the system makes complaining impossible.

This is what it looks like when a bank is “accessible” on paper but exclusionary in practice. Every step of the customer journey becomes a tripwire. For hearing people, these steps are seamless, invisible. For Deaf people, they are barriers. And every barrier carries a cost; money, safety, trust, dignity.

What “Equal by Design” Must Mean

True equality in banking isn’t about add-ons or slogans. It’s about certainty. Deaf customers should never have to wonder whether their bank will work for them when it matters most.

Will I be able to unblock my card at midnight? Will fraud checks lock me out? Will an interpreter be accepted or rejected? Right now, the answer is uncertain. And uncertainty is not equality.

“Equal by design” means building systems where Deaf customers know, without question, that their experience will be as fast, as safe, and as effective as anyone else’s. That requires non-negotiables:

Parity, not patience. If hearing customers can resolve fraud 24/7 in fifteen minutes, Deaf customers must get the same speed, the same access, the same outcomes. Equality means now.

Interpreters respected. An interpreter should never be treated as suspicious. Fraud and risk scripts must state clearly: using an interpreter is valid, accepted, and trusted.

Device before voice. Security should begin with the device you own; cryptographic trust, app push approvals, passkeys. Stronger, safer, and fairer than a voice call. Voice cannot remain the default test of trust.

Silent-safe mode. A customer flag that routes every high-risk event; fraud alerts, freezes, unusual payments through Deaf-accessible channels. This is not convenience. It’s protection.

Test the midnight moment. Banks must prove parity in practice. Run drills. Simulate a Deaf customer stranded abroad at 2am with a blocked card. If the outcome isn’t identical to a hearing customer’s, the system has failed.

Deaf people in the room. Without Deaf leadership, design falls back into “voice first.” Co-design boards, paid testers, and veto power are not optional. They are the safeguard against repeating the same harm.

Publish the truth. Transparency matters. Banks must publish the numbers: how many Deaf customers resolve fraud out-of-hours, how long accounts stay frozen, how often interpreters are rejected. If you don’t measure parity, you don’t have it.

“Equal by design” means more than access on paper. It means Deaf people can trust their bank in the moment of crisis. Anything less is still exclusion by design.

The Human Consequences - What Exclusion Really Costs

This isn’t about inconvenience. It’s about survival, dignity, and trust. When banks fail Deaf customers, the consequences are not abstract. They are lived, immediate, and often brutal.

Safety. Picture this: you’re stranded at night in another country. Your card is blocked. Your money is locked away. The only way out is a phone call you can’t make. Panic sets in; not because of the thief who stole from you, but because of your bank. The very institution meant to protect you becomes the barrier that leaves you exposed.

Livelihood. Your wages land in your account, but a phone-based security check keeps you from accessing them. Bills bounce. The weekly food shop is missed. Not because you mishandled your money, but because the system designed to secure it refuses to let you in.

Housing. Imagine finally being approved for a mortgage. Then the underwriter decides to ring you “just to confirm details.” You don’t answer. Not because you’re dishonest, but because you’re Deaf. And that unanswered call costs you your home.

Mental load. For hearing customers, the system inspires trust. For Deaf customers, it breeds constant calculation: What if something goes wrong after 5pm? What if I’m abroad? What if fraud hits at night? It means living with a permanent Plan B in your head, every single day. That burden is invisible to others but exhausting to carry.

Trust. Perhaps the deepest wound is being treated as suspicious simply because you communicate differently. Speaking through an interpreter. Using the tools banks themselves provide. And still, your very identity is questioned, as if a Deaf customer cannot be genuine by default.

This isn’t a small annoyance. It isn’t a matter of “inconvenience.” It is structural harm; the predictable outcome of a design that punishes you for being Deaf at every critical step. And it sends a message as clear as it is cruel: when crisis comes, you cannot rely on us.

Why Banks Should Care (Beyond Ethics)

Banks like to think accessibility is a moral add-on; a box you tick, a line in the CSR report. But that’s the illusion. Accessibility isn’t about charity, or PR polish. It’s about the strength of your system, the trust of your customers, and the future of your institution. Ignoring it isn’t just unethical. It’s reckless.

Here’s what too many leaders miss: exclusion doesn’t only harm Deaf customers; it creates structural weaknesses inside the bank itself.

Every time a Deaf customer is locked out of fighting fraud in real time, the system becomes weaker. Criminals exploit delays. They know which customers can’t respond at 10pm, which accounts will stay frozen overnight, which loopholes buy them precious hours. That isn’t an accessibility gap. It’s a risk vector.

You don’t just fail your Deaf customers. You expose your whole network.

Regulators are not blind to this. Equality law doesn’t care how many “awareness days” you sponsor. It cares about outcomes. If a Deaf customer loses their home because your mortgage officer insists on a phone call, no glossy Inclusion Week video is going to save you. Regulators see patterns, not promises. And right now the pattern is clear: systems that work for hearing people and shut everyone else out.

That isn’t compliance. It’s discrimination.

And then comes the reputational cost; the part boards always underestimate. One Deaf customer stranded abroad without money spreads faster than ten ad campaigns. One lost mortgage goes viral. One interpreter refused makes headlines. You can’t out-market exclusion. You can’t PR-spin systemic harm.

Trust, once broken, doesn’t come back; not from customers, not from staff, not from investors who are already scrutinising fairness as a core risk.

Here’s the part no one says out loud: exclusion is inefficiency dressed up as tradition. Every “phone only” process is a process that costs more: in repeat contacts, wasted staff time, and unresolved complaints.

When you design for Deaf customers, you design for clarity, speed, and digital-first flows. And those flows reduce cost for everyone. What banks call “accommodation” is actually optimisation. But you only see that if you stop treating accessibility as charity and start seeing it as strategy.

The most dangerous thing is the blind spot. The thing leaders never think about until it’s too late. Exclusion is not just unfair. It’s where your system is weakest.

The place where fraud thrives.

The place where regulators step in.

The place where reputations implode.

You can spend billions on cyber defences, AI, and glossy apps but if the foundation is still built on “call or fail,” you’ve built a fortress with the back door wide open.

This is the reckoning banks don’t want to face: accessibility is not about “doing the right thing.” It’s about survival. About building systems that can withstand crisis, fraud, scrutiny, and public trust.

And the longer you leave it, the more brutal the reckoning will be; in lawsuits, in losses, in headlines you cannot control.

Accessibility is not your charity project. It’s your pressure test. And right now, you’re failing it.

The Bottom Line

The real scandal isn’t that Deaf people struggle to use banks. It’s that the system was never designed for us in the first place.

Every so-called “fix”; the BSL video link, the awareness campaign, the interpreter line is bolted onto machinery that still assumes one thing: that safety, identity, and trust live in the sound of a voice.

That’s why the outcomes don’t change. Because the foundations haven’t changed. You can’t layer inclusion on top of exclusion and call it progress.

I changed my phone. That’s all. The system didn’t see an everyday customer updating a device. It saw a fraud risk, because I couldn’t perform the one act it trusts most; picking up the phone.

My account froze. My money disappeared behind glass. The design didn’t just inconvenience me; it criminalised me.

And that is the truth banks won’t admit: the “inclusion gap” isn’t about awareness, or training, or customer service. It’s about a fundamental design flaw; a world where access is measured in decibels, not outcomes.

Until that design changes, Deaf people will continue to pay with time, wages, homes, safety, dignity. And the industry will continue to mistake decoration for redesign.

So here’s the bottom line: stop calling it inclusion until it delivers equal outcomes in the moments that matter most.

Because right now, this isn’t inclusion at all. It is exclusion, engineered and that is a risk no responsible system should ever accept.