Recently, the front page of The New York Times had a headline about the sexual abuse of deaf children by a priest at a residential school for the deaf many years ago. One of the most heartbreaking aspects of this story is the fact that these deaf children repeatedly spoke out about their abuse to no avail. As the Medical Director of a residential school for the deaf, my experience is that the sexual abuse of deaf children (girls and boys) by adults is grossly underreported. In my 11 years in this role, I saw that abuse of deaf children was actually more common outside of the school, more commonly caused by family or community members. Deaf children then came to their school where they could easily communicate and some, but not all, would report what was happening to them.
What happens when children disclose their abuse varies and ranges across a spectrum. Schools are required to contact the state’s Child Protective Services. The ideal response would be that the child receives a “safe house” interview by an appropriate, trained professional who is fluent in the child’s mode of communication and can accurately and directly document the child’s story of abuse. Child Protective Services would then work with the family to create a safe situation for the child. In my professional practice, I have never seen this happen. Usually, what happens is an effort that is compromised by communication inaccessibility.
The best outcome I’ve seen is when families are preserved by caring family members who step up and remove the child from the dangerous situation. The “best” (not optimal but better than the norm) safe house scenarios I’ve seen are when interpreters are called to facilitate communication with the interviewer and child during investigation. Sometimes another trusted adult, such as a teacher, will be present. This is often considered appropriate for “meeting the child’s needs,” but it does alter the genuine safe house protocol because there is no direct communication between the child and trained interviewer.
Another best-case scenario is arrest of the perpetrator(s). However, when the family is disrupted in this way, too often the deaf or hard of hearing child does not receive the therapeutic support to deal with the situation. There may be anger and denial within the family, and it may be directed at the child, who is further isolated. The most frustrating and ineffective outcomes are “lack of evidence” determinations of children with bruises who have described being beaten by adults. I have spoken with investigators who know something happened to the child but had no way to determine who the perpetrator was, and so no changes in the child’s situation can be implemented. Unfortunately, I have seen reports disappear or fail to be investigated. I have also seen parents pull children from the school before an investigation can take place. In all situations where I have seen a meaningful measure of safety achieved for the child, it has been because of other family members who have intervened on his or her behalf.
This subject is very emotionally difficult for adults for a number of reasons. Some of us have been traumatized ourselves as children, or attacked as adults. Others feel uncomfortable with the sexual aspect or helpless to make a difference through ignorance or lack of resources. These emotional obstacles are primary barriers to helping child victims. Therefore, unless a child is acting out and creating a disturbance, there is the lack of motivation to address what has happened. When a child continues to be victimized in an unsafe environment after making a disclosure, “learned helplessness” takes over and a child will silently cope.
Another barrier arises in situations when everyone involved is a hearing person except the child. Imagine how the situation is influenced when Social Services can communicate directly with adult perpetrator but not the abused child. Without the ability to represent the story from his or her own personal perspective in his/her mode of communication, the deck is stacked against the child’s credibility and s/he may never truly be “heard.”
Finally, opportunities for therapy and healing are usually non-existent, scarce or inadequate. This is due to a combination of lack of funding, few deaf community members who are trained to deal with this subject, and even denial of the extent of the problem. The emotional wounds are buried. Later, these wounds can surface as emotional problems, addiction, and abusive relationships. Some victims will later become perpetrators, continuing the ripple effect of abuse, and the problem grows within the community.
My experience within the deaf community (as an ASL-fluent hearing professional and as someone who socializes in this community) is that all of the above barriers and more exist. Some deaf communities have been “scandalized” by exposure of abuse in residential schools. Suddenly, the School for the Deaf is on the front page of the local paper, and the association is made in the minds of the hearing community who know nothing else about the school. Fear of exposure and harsh judgment can contribute to denial within the institution. This fear is not neutralized by the knowledge that the deaf school is usually the safe haven.
Awareness is only the first step…we must stay focused on the solution. Otherwise, it is easy to become overwhelmed with despair. The barriers that I’ve enumerated are not insurmountable. Whenever this difficult subject rises to public consciousness the soil is again fertile for change and inroads. I am so pleased to see that the Hands & Voices community is addressing this issue. What can we all do to help?
We can do this. ~
QUICK LINKS
Home
