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When they talk about you, the interpreter, do-do*?
One of the most uncomfortable things for me is when consumers talk about me while I’m interpreting. Here are some examples:
- On stage: “I wonder how he’s going to interpret that. Let’s all watch the interpreter and find out.”
- In a meeting: “This interpreter is very expensive, so we can’t afford to run overtime. I wish we could have gotten him for only an hour, but they insist on being paid for two no matter what.”
- In a meeting where several people are coordinating schedules while I’m interpreting, and I don’t know whether I will be able to–or am willing to or qualified to–return for subsequent meetings: “It all depends on the interpreter’s schedule. We’re all waiting on him. If we can’t get him, we’ll have to look for someone else.”
- “I’m sure the interpreter knows.”
- “This is the worst interpreter I’ve ever had. Don’t ever hire him again.”
- “This is the best interpreter I’ve ever had. Hire him again!”
- On a VRS call: Hearing person: “Is the interpreter cute?” Deaf person: “Oh, yeah! Big time.”
- And my most embarrassing moment ever:
- In a sex ed class with developmentally delayed children: “Boys have penises and girls have vaginas”… Teacher going around the circle, naming kids and their parts: “Molly has a vagina, Jose has a penis, Billy has a penis, Monique has a vagina…” She’s making her way around the circle in my direction. Uh oh. “Tyrone has a penis, Guadalupe has a vagina…” Surely she’ll skip me?? I’m not one of her students!! “Daniel has a penis.” Oh, God. :-0
I know, I know– you may be wondering, “What’s the matter? Why so embarrassed?” That’s a fair enough question. I suppose part of it has to do with the “myth of invisibility” that we interpreters internalize even though we know it isn’t true. We really are visible. We really are there. We really are human. We really do have various ways of interpreting things, we really are expensive (but worth it), we really do have schedules (and probably have them with us), we really do possess knowledge, we really are the worst or best interpreter a person has ever worked with– in their perception at that moment, we really are attractive at any given moment to any given person, and we really do have boy/girl parts. So what’s the problem?
Well, I think it’s natural not to want to be talked about in front of yourself. It’s like the joke, “Um, I’m right here.” We are there to interpret, not to converse. When we converse, we have to put one party on hold while we talk to the other party, and then fill in the other party. It can be distracting and disempowering to the consumers who feel the interpreter is there for them, not to be the center of attention but to serve as a communication facilitator.
What do you think? What do you do? I would like to hear from interpreters/transliterators of all stripes, and I would love to hear from consumers of interpreting services as well. Do you talk about interpreters in front of them? What do you do when someone else does?
*In ASL, we have a sign that’s a lexicalized form of the letters D-O, repeated at least twice, glossed DO-DO. It means something like, “what to do?”, “how to cope?”, “what do you suggest?”, or any number of similar concepts.
Like this:
Vague language vs. ambiguity
When I talk to people about vague language, they often ask me what is the difference between vague language and ambiguity. I just thought of a handy example.
Consider the difference between “of age” and “of a certain age.” The expression “of age” has more than one meaning out of context, but only one meaning in context. The age in “of age” can vary from bar/bat mitzvah age (13) to debutante age (15 or 16) to age of majority (18) to drinking age (21). These are just examples; of course these milestones vary based on culture and law. The important thing to realize is that, in any given context, “of age” is meant to be taken at face value. “You’re not of age” means “you’re not 18″ at a military recruiting station and “you’re not 21″ at a bar. These are statements of fact.
On the other hand, the word “certain” in the phrase “of a certain age” is anything but. When someone says “of a certain age,” they refuse to be specific; instead, they invite the listener to share in the creation of a positive or negative judgment. A person “of a certain age” could be in their 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s– or even 90s! “Of a certain age” reflects the attitude of the speaker, while the phrase “of age” is neutral. “Of age” is a social construct, but “of a certain age” is a social statement.
In short, the expression “of age” is ambiguous but not vague, while the phrase “of a certain age” is vague but not ambiguous. I hope this helps clarify the difference between ambiguity and vague language.
How about you? How do you interpret ambiguous vs. vague language?
P.S. Although I didn’t refer to it directly here, one of the books I read before writing this article was: Channell, J. (1994). Vague Language. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Why don’t we call ourselves interpreters for the Hearing?
I mean, Hearing people are the ones who hire us, right? Hearing people need us to interpret for them because they are not fluent in sign language, and most of the time, Hearing people foot the bill. So why do we so often side with our Deaf consumers? We signed-spoken language interpreters probably all have our “Stupid Hearing People!” stories, but where would we be without them? (And remember, for the majority of us who are not CODAs, we used to be Stupid Hearing People ourselves.) Hearing people may be naïve about signed language, deafness, and Deaf culture, but most of them mean well. Hearing people who hire spoken-signed language interpreters want what we want: to make communication accessible so that Deaf and Hearing people can understand each other. They deserve our respect and compassion, not our condescension and contempt. I used to not understand why some hearing consumers made such a production of introducing the interpreters they hired. I thought it was paternalistic and patronizing to Deaf people to make such a show of “their wonderful interpreters.” Then I realized that Hearing people who hire us spend a lot of money for a reason– to prove a commitment to accessibility, build an audience, or develop business relationships. You know what? They pay for the right to use us as advertisement just as much as a company that buys a stadium or arena pays for the right to slap their name on it. Yes, it can be argued that they “have to” provide for accessibility by law, but think about when they don’t have to do this, but they do it anyway. Think about when a company of Hearing people visits a company of Deaf people to pitch a business deal or make a presentation touting the advantages of working with their organization. They didn’t have to visit the company or make the presentation; they chose to. Likewise, they chose to hire interpreters which, if you think about the cost, is not an easy choice to make. So I say if they make a display of graciousness, be gracious and don’t resent them for it. If they talk slowly and clearly, don’t interpret their actions as talking down to Deaf people– try to see them as caring people who are working very hard to do the right thing and be accommodating. I say all this because I have seen the negativity signed-spoken language interpreters display on their faces and with their body language, and in their conversations with other interpreters. And, mea culpa, I have been guilty of it myself. But I am growing and changing! I really encourage my colleagues in the field to put themselves in Hearing people’s shoes and see the world through their eyes. They are worthy of the same support and respect we give our Deaf consumers.
Notes on verbiage Read the rest of this entry
Why I don’t tell people I’m a sign language interpreter
Instead of telling them I’m a sign language interpreter, I like to screw with people’s heads. I love to see whether they react differently to “interpreter” as opposed to “sign language interpreter” or “interpreter for the Deaf.” When I tell people I’m an interpreter, they inevitable ask what language. I can then say, “Sign language, American Sign Language” (like “Bond, James Bond”). When I ever-so-debonairly stress “American,” they usually ask, “Oh, isn’t sign language universal?” And BAM, that’s when I tell them it’s not!
This impresses upon them that:
1. An interpreter is an interpreter,
2. A signed language is a language, and
3. American Sign Language is not the only signed language.
What’s in a name? Oh so much.
