Interpreting therapy sessions
In this article, Romina Galloso, translator, interpreter and Language Outcomes Quality Lead at Respond Crisis Translation, shares her thoughts on her experience working as an interpreter for therapy sessions. This is translated from the original blog in Spanish here.
We recently received an interpreting request from SLRA, a London-based organization that provides counseling and support to refugees, asylum seekers and other migrants who are at risk because of their immigration status. It was on a complicated schedule for most interpreters, so I decided to take it on myself. I had never had the opportunity to interpret a therapy session before. I assumed it would be an interpretation like all the others. Another opportunity to serve others while doing what I love most.
I logged in 15 minutes before the session to check in briefly with the therapist. We decided that I was to keep the camera off, speak in the first person, deliver the whole message; the usual. When it was time for the patient to connect, the therapist introduced me as her interpreter. She thanked me and I responded with my usual "it's my pleasure". This was the first time they had a session together, so the therapist focused on getting to know the patient.
Now, let me spare you the details and jump right into an hour later. The session was about to end, so the last five minutes were dedicated to de-escalating emotions and saying goodbye. As tears ran down the patient´s cheeks, the patient thanked the therapist and then turned her gaze to what I believe was my name on the screen and thanked me for being there. It wasn't the first time I had been thanked for my work. However, this time it felt different.
While they were saying goodbye, I was beginning to digest and process my own emotions. Suddenly, in the midst of all of the processing and feelings that were beginning to stir in me, the patient thanked me for my work. A thank you that was hard for me to accept, and one that reminded me of all the reasons I do what I do. Because, at the end of the day, my voice was providing the patient with the opportunity to communicate and express herself in a space designed for her healing. Because I was able to be that voice that doesn't sound so strange, that accompanies and comforts, and, most importantly, that made it safe for her to share her feelings.
During that hour, the patient's story became MY story, just like the therapist's words became MY words.
I used to believe that I, as an interpreter, was simply a bridge between two languages. But, in that session, as well as in the sessions that followed, I was more than just a communication bridge. In a way, I was both the patient and the therapist. During that hour, the patient's story became MY story, just like the therapist's words became MY words. But, unlike the therapist, I had not received training on how to facilitate a therapy session, let alone how to absorb the patient's emotional energy in a psychologically safe way for myself. I, as an interpreter, am trained in active listening, memorization, and re-expressing ideas or concepts, and that’s what I did. But I couldn't help but feel that my work was not enough. In an ideal world, my presence would not have been necessary, and the patient would be able to communicate freely in her own language, without a mediator. I could not help but think about the privilege I have as someone for whom language is not a constant obstacle, or about the privilege I have that allows me to volunteer my time to begin with.
We as interpreters working in crisis contexts, must be trauma-informed and deeply emotionally intelligent. Anything less can be detrimental. That trauma-informed emotional insight is equally important as the language mechanics.
Serving as a therapy interpreter has reminded me about the immense responsibility that comes with our profession. Being an interpreter is not just about retaining and re-expressing information from one to another. Our role as interpreters demands that we be highly educated on the ways that trauma works. If I had restricted myself to standard translation theory, I would have been rote-translating empty words. We as interpreters working in crisis contexts, must be trauma-informed and deeply emotionally intelligent. Anything less can be detrimental. That trauma-informed emotional insight is equally important as the language mechanics. We are the person to whom the patient will be talking. It is our duty to create a comfortable and safe listening space, as well as to transmit the message with all of its emotional implications and charge.
Being trauma-informed is not just about a single training. It is an ongoing journey through which we, as translators and interpreters, consistently analyze the ways our voices and work reflect and embrace the voices of the vulnerable people we are serving. It also means consistently checking in on our own emotional registers to understand how we as providers are being affected by the work. I want to thank Claudia Angelo for giving me a safe space to talk about the emotions and feelings that arose in the past few weeks as I have taken on this work. Claudia is a clinical psychologist and certified coach who provides subsidized emotional support to all members of the Respond Crisis Translation network.
