The first time Zerrin Martin saw an orchestra on television, she was mesmerized. The cellists and violinists on stage seemed to hold a kind of magic, and she knew even at 2 years old she needed to be a part of it. She begged her parents for music lessons, and soon, she was at the piano, her tiny fingers dancing across the keys. Little did she know, this was just the beginning.
Her love for music was unwavering, but at 11 years old, life threw her an unexpected chord. A traumatic accident left her with perilymphatic fistula, a tear in the inner ear, which caused complete deafness in her left ear, tinnitus and the inability to walk.
In just a few short hours, Martin said she went from having normal hearing and balance to readjusting all aspects of her childhood.
“That was traumatic, but I was very committed to my love for music and continuing to pursue music,” Martin said. “As I was healing, my journey with music didn't end. I forged forward, but I did realize that it was going to be significantly more difficult because the sense that I had was not the same anymore.”
Her perseverance led her to earn both a bachelor's and master's degree in music, and now, she is preparing to defend her doctoral thesis in choral conducting at UF. While music was always her first love, she also considered a path in the medical field. Ultimately, she merged the two, focusing on speech-language pathology with an emphasis on voice science and rehabilitation. As a professional singer and choral conductor, she saw firsthand how understanding vocal health could elevate artistry.
Growing up as a first-generation American with Turkish parents, Martin said self-discipline was ingrained in her upbringing. It served her well, but even discipline couldn’t fully erase the challenges of being a musician with hearing loss. In crowded rooms, she relied on lip-reading. In professional spaces, she kept her struggles to herself, fearing stigma. Doubt crept in.
“I had a lot of anxiety around my performing capabilities,” Martin said. “I was constantly second-guessing myself.”
Then, in March 2024, everything changed. She received the Cochlear Osia BAHA, an implanted bone-anchored hearing aid. In the first few years after getting the device, she adapted well as it worked to compensate for the hearing she was missing. But when the device was activated, Martin said it was like hearing the world in stereo sound.
For the first time since she was 11, sound came from every direction. Standing in a professional choir, she didn’t just hear music — she was surrounded by it. Notes that once felt like distant echoes were now rich, full and immediate. The world wasn’t just louder; it was clearer. She could finally hear herself the way the world did.
The Osia uses bone conduction to send sound through the skull, bypassing the damaged ear entirely. According to Terry Zwolan, the director of audiology access and standard of care at Cochlear Americas, it works like glasses for hearing, restoring what was lost in a way that feels natural.
The device is placed inside the inner ear with a microphone that picks up sound and sends it through the bone to her working ear.
“With this particular patient, she's involved in music, and sometimes people will make assumptions that you need to have perfect hearing to be good as a musician,” Zwolan said. “For this young lady, I think having the Osia, having both ears [and] being able to hear the sound, has made a dramatic difference for her quality of life, for her occupation [and] for her studies.”
For Martin, it was more than just hearing. It was confidence. It was stepping into a choir and knowing, without a doubt, she was catching every harmony and every dynamic shift. Her students heard the change, too.
Codi Linafelter, a vocal performance senior at UF, remembers the moment Martin conducted while simultaneously singing an aria and performing an alto solo during Martin’s Doctor of Musical Arts performance.
“It was one of the most incredible musical things I've ever experienced in my life,” Linafelter said. “Being able to be a part of the ensemble witnessing her give such a performance is still awe-inspiring to me and is something that I dwell on frequently.”
Linafelter has considered Martin a close friend and mentor since they sat next to each other in the Alto 2 section in Fall 2022 during voice ensemble auditions. Since then, the two have developed a strong rapport through musical connection.
As the two’s relationship strengthened, Linafelter said Martin also inspired her professionally. The student has incorporated Martin’s vocal techniques into her practice, she said, using them to refine her skills. Beyond technique, she said Martin’s approach to music emphasizes connection and emotion alongside performance.
“Music really is the language of the soul, and it is what people have turned to in times when words have failed for millennia,” Linafelter said. “In this collegiate realm, that spiritual side of life is often neglected, and so students who have the ability to participate in a musical ensemble are able to participate in that spiritual language and feed themselves in a way that you don't get otherwise.”
Linafelter described Martin’s influence as shaping not only her technical abilities but also her understanding of music’s role in expression and communication. With her new ability to hear in stereo, Martin continues to deepen that understanding in ways she never could before.
Through her struggles and triumphs, she has understood that music isn’t just about performing — it’s about feeling and communicating what can’t be said.
Contact Sabrina Castro at scastro@alligator.org. Follow her on X @sabs_wurld.
Sabrina Castro is a senior journalism student and Spring 2025 Avenue reporter. When she's not off chasing the latest trend story, you can find her scrolling TikTok or searching local thrift stores for vintage gems.
