Yareli
Content Warning: These stories are about violence, abuse, neglect and exploitation and may include references to suicide or self-harming behaviours. They may contain graphic descriptions and strong language and may be distressing. Some narratives may be about First Nations people who have passed away. If you need support, please see Contact & support.
Yareli, in her late 50s, is profoundly deaf and uses Auslan. She moved to Australia some 20 years ago.
When her partner became physically abusive she left the relationship, taking their child and ‘moving all around’. Yareli told the Royal Commission that the police were involved and tried to help, but they didn’t provide Auslan interpreters, making communication difficult and ‘very frustrating’. ‘It was emotionally really hard,’ she said.
‘We had to write notes back and forwards and I wasn't able to get to – it was a lot of effort to try and write notes with the police. And nobody supported us because we had no family supports here in Australia. All of my family were back in [my home country] still.’
The difficulty of communicating was ‘very frustrating’. ‘It was emotionally really hard,’ she said.
Yareli said there have been many times in her life people and systems have disregarded or exploited her disability.
For example when she approached Centrelink for help finding employment, they referred her for inappropriate roles, such as receptionist.
‘Often they'd tell me just to call different offices. And I got no support as a Deaf person and I was incredibly frustrated.’
She started ‘just door knocking’ – ‘going into different shops and offices asking if I could, you know, get a job. I was desperate to work.’
Eventually she found a job, but her employer made her do a lot of tasks that were not part of her role, like putting out heavy rubbish. She asked for an interpreter but her employer said the business couldn’t afford it.
‘It meant that a lot of the time I had no idea what was going on in that workplace and I wasn't able to access information … I got paid very little, I was struggling, I could barely pay the bills. And I'll never forget how difficult and traumatic that time was and how I was treated in that workplace.’
Yareli receives a Disability Support Pension and recently had a letter from Centrelink telling her she owes them tens of thousands of dollars.
‘I didn't understand the letter at all. I was so distressed. I didn't know what to do and I thought I better start paying this money back. So I started paying off the [debt] in tiny little bits.’
She asked Centrelink for an interpreter to help her understand what the debt was for. They told her she needed to provide one herself.
‘They had a terrible attitude, the people who worked there … It was absolute rubbish what they put me through.’
Centrelink staff didn’t believe Yareli was deaf and kept giving her phone numbers to call. She had to go to an audiologist to ‘get a piece of paper’ confirming she was deaf.
‘It took getting that – paying out of my own pocket for that bit of paper – for her to believe me. It was incredibly stressful.’
Yareli still doesn’t know why she owes the money. But she is looking for work though a support agency so she can continue to pay the debt off.
‘I'm doing my best. But I feel like my brain, as I've got older, I'm losing capacity. And, you know, I'm getting very depressed … I feel like sometimes the barriers I face just completely discombobulate my mind, I'm not able to think clearly.’
Yareli said she wishes people who can hear would learn a little about the Deaf community and sign language.
‘And don't assume that I am just like them except for my ears. I belong to a different culture, and I would like them to understand that deafness is a part of who I am, so it changes the way I behave. So it’s not just about my ears, but it's about who I am, and if they could understand that, that would help me a lot.’
Disclaimer: This is the story of a person who shared their personal experience with the Royal Commission into Violence, Abuse, Neglect and Exploitation of People with Disability through a submission or private session. The names in this story are pseudonyms. The person who shared this experience was not a witness and their account is not evidence. They did not take an oath or affirmation before providing the story. Nothing in this story constitutes a finding of the Royal Commission. Any views expressed are those of the person who shared their experience, not of the Royal Commission.