Each month we invite an inspirational or outstanding deaf role model to share their story. This can be from what they’ve learnt, to what they wish they’d have known as well as their best deaf tips.
Our role model this month is Scott Garthwaite (Punk Chef). Scott is a well-known food demonstrator, TV presenter and Professional Chef. From starting out creating his own cooking content for YouTube and social media, to becoming the Punk Chef we all recognise. Read on to find out more about his journey.
Please tell us a little about yourself
I’m Scott Garthwaite, better known as Punk Chef. I’m a deaf chef, TV presenter, entrepreneur, and proud dad. My career has taken me from professional kitchens to TV screens, food markets, and festivals across the UK. Some of my proudest achievements include presenting for Channel 4, BBC, and Lumo TV, representing deaf talent in mainstream spaces, and building a food brand that reflects who I am — bold, inclusive, and unapologetically different.
Did you grow up in the Deaf Community or come to it later in life?
I grew into the Deaf Community rather than being fully immersed from the very beginning. I became deaf through meningitis at the age of two, but I was fortunate to attend Beverley School for the deaf in Middlesbrough. Being in a deaf school meant I was immersed in the deaf world and deaf culture from a young age, and I was always involved in deaf clubs and deaf events. Over time, the Deaf Community became my home — a place of shared understanding, culture, humour, and identity. It became my core identity and shaped who I am today, giving me confidence and pride in being deaf.
A huge part of that foundation came from my mam, who passed away last year. She was my strength. She learned sign language and made our home a comfortable, natural place to communicate. Sign language was never a barrier in our house — it was simply everyday life.
My mam was one of the most prominent figures in the Deaf Community in the North East. She was deeply involved with Beverley School for the deaf, first as a school bus escort and later as a teaching assistant. She supported the Deaf Club for over 30 years, serving on the top management committee and running the social club bar. She was also a youth worker, which meant I was always around her — surrounded by deaf people, deaf culture, and community.
Because of her, sign language became normal for me. She taught me that being deaf is not something to hide or overcome, but something to be proud of. That belief has stayed with me throughout my life and continues to guide everything I do.
What was your experience of education and higher education as a deaf person?
Education was challenging. Like many deaf people, access wasn’t always right — communication barriers, limited understanding, and low expectations were common. I often had to work harder to be understood and to prove myself. Those experiences gave me resilience, but they also showed me how much the education system still needs to change.
When I left school, I didn’t really know what I wanted to do. I was a creative pupil — I loved drawing, design, and crafting — so my teachers suggested fashion design. I agreed, not because it was a clear plan, but because I wanted to continue learning and explore something creative.
I later left that course and moved to Derby College for the Deaf, where I studied media production. That experience helped me develop confidence, communication skills, and a stronger sense of self.
After college, I went travelling and spent a gap year at the Holy Land Institute for the Deaf in Al Salt, Jordan. Living and learning in the Middle East was a turning point for me. The culture, the community, and especially the food had a huge impact on me and changed the way I saw the world.
That year sparked my passion for food, and when I returned home, I began my career in hospitality. Looking back, every step — even the uncertain ones — played a part in shaping who I am today.
What led to your interest in cooking and being a chef?
Food was a visual, creative language that made sense to me. Cooking didn’t rely on sound — it relied on instinct, timing, taste, and passion. I didn’t always know I wanted to be a chef, but once I found food, it clicked. It became my way of expressing myself and connecting with people.
My love of food comes from my family. Growing up, my granddad loved making his own wine. My nana was always baking in the kitchen. My mam was an incredible cook, especially with staple foods. Our family comes from the coal mines and the coast of Hartlepool, and that history shaped how we cooked and ate. My grandparents lived through the Second World War, where rations were a way of life. Food had to last, stretch, and nourish. We grew up on tins — corned beef was a family favourite — and big stews made with cheap cuts of lamb, slowly poached in stock for hours until the meat broke down. The flavours were deep and unforgettable. You could smell it throughout the house.
My dad was a big fish man. He would bring whole fish home and gut them in the bath — the house would smell of fish, and that was just normal life for us.
I grew up surrounded by food, but I never saw it as a career at first. It wasn’t until my mam encouraged me to go into hospitality college that I began to see food as a future. From there, I went on to study at one of the top culinary colleges in Newcastle. I was the only student in my class to graduate with a 2:1 Honours degree in Culinary and Patisserie Arts.
Looking back, food was always there — in our history, our home, and our survival. I just didn’t realise at the time that it would become my life’s work.
What was your experience like training and working in the culinary industry as a deaf man?
It wasn’t easy. Kitchens are loud, fast, and often not inclusive. I faced constant communication barriers and assumptions about what I could or couldn’t do. But I adapted, learned to advocate for myself, and proved that Deafness is not a weakness. In many ways, it sharpened my focus, discipline, and creativity.
I worked in some of the top restaurants in the North East, including Rockliffe Hall and Wynyard Hall. After moving south, I went on to work at Hambleton Hall — the only restaurant in the UK to retain a single Michelin star for over 30 years without fail, and one of the top 500 hotels in Europe. It was an incredible place to learn, but it was also incredibly tough, especially as a deaf person.
I couldn’t communicate freely, so I focused relentlessly on my work. My days often ran from 8am until 1am, five days a week, surrounded almost entirely by hearing peers. The constant lip-reading, concentration, and mental effort led to severe concentration fatigue. It was exhausting — mentally and physically — but I refused to let that stop me. I fought my way through the kitchen and became a valued part of the Hambleton Hall family.
Over time, though, my mind and body told me I needed something different. I wanted to work in an environment where I could fully be myself — where I could immerse myself in deaf culture, communicate naturally in sign language, and help train the next generation.
That moment led to the birth of Punk Chef trucks. For the first time, I could breathe. I could lead, create, and communicate freely. It wasn’t just a business — it was a space where deaf people belonged.
What was your journey to becoming a TV presenter?
It started with simply being myself — a deaf chef who didn’t fit the usual mould. While I was still a culinary student, I began creating my own cooking content for YouTube and social media, never imagining where it might lead. Funny enough, it was through those early videos that Flashing Lights Media noticed my work and contacted me to ask if I would be interested in presenting cooking programmes for deaf audiences.
That moment changed everything. From there, Punk Chef was born, and I haven’t looked back.
Over the past 15 years on screen, I’ve worked across BSL Zone, BBC, and Channel 4, showing that deaf people can lead, present, and connect with both deaf and hearing audiences. I’ve presented live cooking segments on Steph’s Packed Lunch, appeared on BBC See Hear, and now regularly present Café Conversations — a light-hearted, informative chat show with well-known celebrities and figures from the deaf community.
That role has taken my presenting skills to a different level, moving beyond food and into conversation, humour, and storytelling. Being on screen feels natural to me now. With years of experience, I’ve grown in confidence, adaptability, and presence — and it’s something I genuinely love doing. No matter the platform, I always give 110%.
When did you officially become ‘Punk Chef’?
Punk Chef came naturally. It wasn’t just a name — it was an attitude. Punk is about doing things your own way, challenging the system, and not asking for permission. The name stuck because it reflected who I already was.
Over time, it became a powerful and iconic symbol. People know there is only one deaf man with a pink mohawk — and that’s Punk Chef. My style was never planned; it evolved naturally. I’d always experimented with different hairstyles, and when I started creating cooking content, my hair happened to be pink. I threw the name “Punk Chef” out there, and it stuck.
Now it’s part of who I am — and I don’t think I could get rid of it even if I tried. Even when I get older and lose my hair, Punk Chef will still be there — I’ll probably just paint a pink stripe across my head instead. The attitude doesn’t fade, even if the hair does.
Can you tell us more about your connection with deaf football?
Deaf football has been a huge part of my life. It’s about community, pride, and shared experience, and for me it became another space where deaf culture truly thrives. I was involved in Deaf football for over 25 years, first as a player and later as a manager.
Leadership has always come naturally to me, and that became clear when I took on the role of manager at Sunderland Deaf AFC. Under my leadership, we made history — winning the England Deaf Football League and Cup Double, becoming the first team from the North East to ever achieve that feat.
We broke the mould. For over 15 years, only three teams had dominated the EDF Cup. We came in and took that title. The team I led that season was something special — often regarded as one of the greatest teams ever assembled to challenge the “big three” in deaf football. That season was magical. We dominated matches, built belief, passion, and unity, and became a fully bonded core. The strength and commitment those lads showed on the pitch was incredible.
Winning the league and cup double, followed by back-to-back league titles, remains one of the proudest moments of my life. It wasn’t just about winning — it was about belief, leadership, and proving what deaf teams from outside the traditional powerhouses could achieve.
Off the pitch, we also changed the game. As a team, we took deaf football on social media to another level. We created transfer highlights, match reports, BSL video content, deadline-day signing announcements, and behind-the-scenes footage. We raised the profile of deaf football so it was recognised not just for performance on the pitch, but for professionalism, storytelling, and visibility online.
We set a new benchmark — one that many deaf football clubs across the UK are still using today. That work helped lift the profile of deaf football as a whole and showed what was possible when creativity, leadership, and deaf culture came together.
I eventually stepped away, and I haven’t been involved in deaf football for the past two years. The game has changed, and it no longer feels the same to me. But what we achieved — on and off the pitch — will always stand, and I’m incredibly proud of the legacy we left behind.
What changes would you like to see in the deaf community and wider world?
Deaf artists and deaf talent in television are still too often overlooked. Representation is improving, but it’s taken far too long, and it still isn’t enough. Deaf people shouldn’t be treated as a “special moment” or a one-off — we should be a normal, visible part of TV and media.
Lately, it’s been encouraging to see more deaf people breaking through and being recognised for their talent, including Danny Murphy, Rose Ayling-Ellis, Tasha Ghouri, Matthew Gurney, and Jodie Ounsley. These moments matter — they shift perceptions and open doors.
I also have to highlight Leanne Stead, who is a proud Hartlepoolian — just like me. Seeing her on The Wheel, and watching her go on to win, was incredibly powerful. It showed deaf people not just taking part, but succeeding — and being recognised for ability, not Deafness.
Seeing Yvonne Cobb on This Morning sharing cooking segments is another sign that deaf representation on mainstream TV is starting to feel normal — and that’s exactly how it should be.
But inclusion must go further. Deaf representation cannot be treated as a box-ticking exercise or a surface-level diversity gesture. Media companies need to move beyond optics and commit to meaningful, long-term inclusion — with deaf people involved from the very beginning, both on screen and behind the camera.
We need more deaf-led stories, more deaf presenters, more deaf creatives, and more opportunities that aren’t framed as “inspirational”, but simply professional. Deaf people belong across every genre — drama, food, sport, entertainment, reality, and live television.
Inclusion shouldn’t be a trend. It should be the standard. And the next step is clear: more visibility, more opportunity, and more deaf voices shaping what we see on screen.
Who inspires you and why?
I’m inspired by deaf people who quietly and consistently push boundaries — artists, athletes, parents, and creators. Their strength, resilience, and determination often go unseen, but they make a real difference every day.
People like Michael Woods, who is climbing Mount Everest while being deaf, are incredibly inspiring. So is Gerry Hughes, who single-handedly sailed around the world. These are people who don’t just talk about change — they redefine what’s possible and challenge how the world views deaf people through action.
The same goes for deaf athletes competing at the Deaflympics. Team GB has produced many medal winners — athletes who dedicate their lives to training, discipline, and excellence. They push boundaries, achieve their dreams, and represent the deaf community at the highest level, yet they are still too often overlooked. These achievements deserve far more recognition.
I’m also inspired by anyone who stays authentic and refuses to be boxed in, whether deaf or hearing. Inspiration doesn’t just come from well-known names — it comes from the people around me and from grassroots communities. Everyone has a story, everyone brings something different, and everyone has the potential to inspire.
It doesn’t matter who you are or where you come from — we all have a role to play. Being deaf isn’t a limitation; it’s a strength. It’s a power that can challenge perceptions, break barriers, and change the world.
What ways do you think hearing people can be allies to the deaf community? Any Dos and DON’Ts?
DO:
- Listen, learn, and ask respectfully — every deaf person is different
- Book qualified BSL interpreters and do it early, not last minute
- Include deaf people in decisions that affect them, from planning to delivery
- Make access standard — captions, interpreters, clear visuals should be built in from the start
- Be patient and flexible with communication styles
- Challenge ableism when you see it, even in small everyday moments
DON’T:
- Don’t assume what a deaf person needs or can do
- Don’t speak over deaf voices or make decisions on their behalf
- Don’t treat access as optional, inconvenient, or “extra”
- Don’t rely on family members or children to interpret
- Don’t see Deafness as something to fix — it’s a culture and identity
Allyship isn’t about good intentions or box-ticking. Allyship is action, consistency, and showing up — even when it’s uncomfortable or costs time and effort.
3 top tips for deaf people
- Own your deaf identity — it’s power, not a problem
- Don’t wait for permission — create your own opportunities
- Find your people — community changes everything
Scott attending our community project, Deaf Lives
To read more inspirational role model interviews, take a look here. If you would like to be an ally to the deaf community and learn sign language, check out our courses.
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