Wenley

Wenley, in her early 50s, is Deaf. Auslan is her first language and there are many situations that are extremely difficult if she doesn’t have an interpreter.

Wenley receives NDIS support. At a recent meeting with her support coordinator, Stephen, she requested more money for interpreting services. She has an injury that prevents her from doing physical work, so she asked for a cleaner. She doesn’t always feel safe at home because she can’t hear if someone is on the property, so she asked for a security camera.

Wenley’s funding in the new plan was reduced by more than half and all her requests were refused. Stephen told her she couldn’t have a cleaner but she could have remedial massage. She was funded for one session with an interpreter per week. Stephen said her children could interpret for her at other times, and they could also listen out for intruders at night.

‘I got really cross,’ Wenley told the Royal Commission. ‘This is wrong. They’re children. They don’t have to be my interpreters, and I shouldn’t have to rely on them. And just because they can hear and I can’t, it doesn’t give them additional responsibility.’

She was ‘really upset’ by the idea that ‘the NDIA thinks that’s all right’. She was also ‘shocked’ by the allocation for interpreting services.

‘Once a week only for interpreting, and I knew that was wrong as well, and that that was a poor decision.’

Wenley needs an interpreter for medical appointments, meetings at her children’s school and other commitments.

‘It’s vital that any time I head out into the community and have these interactions, these important interactions, I have interpreting access,’ she said. ‘But [Stephen] had no idea about a Deaf person’s needs and what interpreting requirements I had.’

Wenley’s relationship with the NDIA got off to a rocky start when the agency called and left messages about her upcoming appointment. When she didn’t respond they cancelled it.

‘They’d never read my actual file to see that I’m deaf, and that it had to be text or email only. Like, that’s pretty basic information.’

Such disregard for her needs happens often. At work she has funding for an interpreter, but meetings are called at such short notice she doesn’t have time to book one. Hospital appointments are often delayed or rescheduled, so the interpreter is unable to attend.

After experiencing domestic violence she went to police. A police officer came to her home to get a statement, but without an interpreter.

‘They wanted my children to act as an interpreter for me, but I didn’t want my children to hear what I was going to be talking about. It was very private and sensitive, and I refused.”’

Wenley described many other difficult and frustrating situations. These included using an intercom to get into a building, ordering takeaway food where the customer’s number is called out, poor captioning on films and TV, and news events where the Aslan interpreter is cut out of the frame. Going to the airport, catching a train or bus or being anywhere that announcements are not made visually is stressful.

‘I have Deaf friends. [We] have this conversation and go, “Look at the world and how they accept people with disability, but they don’t understand us.” Deaf people don’t seem to fit within the disability sector, and the wider community just don’t understand a disability they can’t see,’ she said.

‘It makes sense to me because there is more and more access considered for people with physical disabilities, with wheelchairs, but why aren’t developers and builders and the government thinking about Deaf people and what their access needs are as well? That would make society a much fairer place for Deaf people to be.’