Marking 20 years
of bold journalism,
reader supported.
News
Health
Rights + Justice

Translator Kids Speak Out, from Cancer Calls to Running Restaurants

Readers saw themselves in our recent story on translating for immigrant family, and wrote in to share their stories.

Christopher Cheung 13 May 2021TheTyee.ca

Christopher Cheung reports on urban issues for The Tyee. Follow him on Twitter at @bychrischeung.

The COVID-19 pandemic has created more work than ever for translator kids.

Last month, The Tyee published my story on these children, who translate everything from bank documents to doctor’s appointments for their immigrant families. The pandemic has added federal benefits, government updates and vaccine education to that list, as authorities either lag behind or do not provide full help in languages other than English and French.

On reading the story, more translator kids wrote in to share their experiences.

“Parents came from Slovakia in the 1930s,” wrote Joan Thornley on Twitter. “They had basic English, but I was translating documents for them as soon as I could read. There were no free language classes.”

Ivy emailed us about completing documents such as the long-form census for her household as an 11-year-old. In her home, there was a more nuanced relationship between language, bureaucracy and family responsibility.

“My mom doesn’t need a translator, so if she’s interacting with someone, she won’t ask me to translate,” Ivy wrote. “However, if I can handle the whole interaction, she prefers to have me do that. But as a shy teen, I often abdicated this responsibility.”

But many also wrote in with critical views about immigrants and official language use in Canada, notably sharing their beliefs that language classes are easy to access, and that people who move to Canada have a responsibility to learn to speak one of Canada’s official languages.

“This is not inherently racist or colonial,” said one Tyee commenter. (Some people have also responded that we all really should be learning Indigenous languages.)

My original piece touched on some of the barriers that immigrants face when it comes to learning a new language, such as having to juggle up to three jobs and supporting overseas family in addition to their immediate household.

Sometimes it’s not for lack of trying: a refugee in my story came from a fishing family and still tries to learn English to this day, but coming from a working-class background without much education, they find it a challenge.

One translator kid noted that her grandmother, in addition to not having the chance to learn how to read and write English, also didn’t have the chance to read and write Punjabi, despite it being her native tongue.

As Kevin Huang of Hua Foundation asks in my story: “Why don’t people recognize that not everyone has the opportunity and privilege to learn English? Why is that when a primary English speaker speaks an ‘ethnic language’ it’s celebrated, but for people for whom English is their second or third language, they don’t get the same credit?”

Four more translator kids who grew up in B.C. took the time to share with us their stories in writing and over the phone. Here are their varied experiences of what the responsibility was like for them, and how it affected their families. Their stories have been edited and condensed.

Chan

My dad now has cancer, and that has led to a lot of translation, especially due to COVID. Sometimes professional translators are provided, but it’s very impersonal. When there are phone calls between us and the doctor, the translator literally just translates word for word what the doctor is saying. It’s always slow and awkward, and you can’t see them, so you miss all the micro-expressions. So I’ve stepped in and done translations myself.

As a translator kid, you deal with a lot of things you wouldn’t necessarily deal with until you’re an adult. The biggest thing translating for my parents has been being the first person hearing bad news. That’s the worst part. When the doctor says something bad, I hear it first. My dad wouldn’t really catch it. So I have to bear the reality of it, and then also tell my dad the bad news. It’s a one-two punch.

I’m now in my 30s dealing with this, and lucky enough that I can take time off to translate. I can’t imagine a teenager being in my shoes, dealing with cancer and doctors.

Having visited the cancer agency, Vancouver General Hospital, and the surgeon’s office, there are different limitations regarding what languages are available. At the surgeon’s office, there are no translation services. At the cancer agency, you have to book a translator, but it’s something that they often forget. When we’re there, we have to request it again. I feel like there’s this general undertone that we’re a hassle. Sometimes there is a machine that they bring in that connects to a translator, and there’s audio and text. But the audio can be so bad sometimes that the translator has to ask the doctor to repeat themselves.

Going to work, my parents just need “good morning,” “thank you” and your basics. But if you throw them into another environment, it’s hard.

It’s always this issue of them knowing enough to get by, but when something happens, they don’t know enough.

Dash Gill

Nowadays, everything is more accessible for non-English speakers. But it wasn’t [always that way] in Squamish, a small town in the 1990s. Doctor, hospital, lawyer, notary, Service Canada — anywhere that an adult needed to be able to speak English, children went along to translate.

This was the case for myself and my cousins. I remember translating into Punjabi for my mom at a student-led conference. We also translated for anyone around us that might’ve been in an office, and their English skills lacked. You were fair game as a translator for anyone.

My dad is English literate, but when he wasn’t available, it was me helping my mom, my grandma, aunts, uncles and older cousins who immigrated as teens. It makes you grow up faster relative to how friends with English-speaking parents grow up. I think I also learned the skill of being attuned to how adults communicated: direct, polite, no stuttering, goal-oriented.

I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m blessed to have been able to navigate two different cultures growing up. It’s hindered me in no way, and only made me better-rounded as an adult.

Though as an adult and parent myself, I wonder what that was like for adults in my life, that level of dependency? I would often hear them say to us, “You’re doing this so you learn how to do these tasks for yourself in the future.” Maybe them putting it on us took some of the guilt off of them? Guilt about making us have to grow up so fast?

Michael John Lo

When we received basically any piece of mail, I’d be summoned to decipher it — it didn’t matter if it was a Costco flyer or an important notice from the government. My grandparents, afraid of missing key information, would ask me to translate everything.

Obviously, I’m their advocate and guide through Canadian bureaucracy. I remember painstakingly translating for someone from the CRA, who needed verbal verification from my grandfather when we moved house. It gets more heart-wrenching when your elderly family is in the health-care system with inadequate linguistic and cultural support. Between my classes and work, I’m constantly holding on phone lines, navigating phone trees, making sure my grandfather is being fed and knows what is happening to his body in terms of treatment, arranging better care.... It’s a lot.

Regarding my grandmother, we were very, very lucky that I was around when she fell. She was in an old care home where none of the staff spoke Cantonese, and they didn’t inform us of her fall until three days after. At the time, she was in so much pain that she couldn’t speak. It was down to me to communicate to first responders and make sure my grandpa knew what was going on when she was taken to the hospital. He had previously received a call from the care home about his spouse not eating or leaving the bed. Due to the language barrier, he didn’t pick up on the warning signs and wasn’t able to communicate his worries. My grandmother passed away a few months after. I struggled with guilt for quite some time — I wondered if I had focused less on studies and more on family, would she have still been with us?

In retrospect, I had probably taken on too much responsibility for myself. I was a disoriented first year university student, fresh out of high school. But that incident sticks out in my mind as a turning point where I realized I now had adult responsibilities. I sometimes forget that other people don’t have to field random photos and calls from family asking them to help with understanding daily life.

Amelia

Within a year of arriving in Canada, my mother became pregnant while trying to take English classes. Health-care providers — through an interpreter — and extended family convinced her not to pursue an abortion under the pretense that she could easily resume her education afterwards.

Firstly, no one had the right to exert influence on her body in that manner, but how could she have known? Secondly, others made assumptions on her behalf based on their own privileged experience and identity as well-established, educated English-speakers. A “well-informed choice” was impossible for my mother.

I find the trope that “immigrants should learn English and integrate” tiresome and infuriating. In the mid-1980s when my parents arrived, English classes were a luxury that neither of them could afford — not when you need to support a family, and job opportunities for racialized people are often exploitative and undervalued. My father went from his job in a bakery, where he worked from 4 a.m. to noon, to a restaurant job from 5 p.m. to 11 p.m. My mother only worked when child care was available or when we could attend school. We were a low-income household throughout my childhood.

Every interaction in the English-speaking world requires compounded time and labour to navigate seemingly simple application forms, notifications and signage. My parents, like many immigrants, were trapped in a vicious cycle of subsistence and systemic marginalization.

The beacon of hope in that cycle: their children. I became my parents’ eyes, ears and voice, and was there for phone calls and appointments. But how much can one expect a child to convey?

We eventually became a restaurant family, because it was one of the few opportunities that tolerated limited English proficiency and allowed people to call their own shots, be their own bosses and take some control of their lives.

This is where children of immigrant family businesses are further driven to be front-of-house staff, interpreters and business partners. We help navigate food safety plans and inspection reports, English-language marketing, permits, contracts, customer service and “menu transcreation,” the work of truly adapting a message from one language to another while maintaining intent, style, tone and context.

While low-cost opportunities for language education have substantially improved since my parents arrived in the mid-1980s, many socioeconomic barriers and oppressive structures continue to exist. For my mother, the opportunity to learn English never manifested until recently, 30 years after she immigrated.

There is a stereotype that long-established immigrants who work hard will get along fine. But are we really “fine”? This perspective fails to understand and recognize that this has only been achieved through the grit and resourcefulness of many communities to navigate English-dominant systems and processes.

From the outside, our family business seems established but there are so many vulnerabilities in the system that seemingly small changes or shocks, like the banning of single-use items, are magnified. Without resources that respect language access, we perpetuate disproportionate impacts on our ethnocultural businesses, families and communities.

Don’t get me started on how this impacts our family dynamics, belonging and civic participation.  [Tyee]

Read more: Health, Rights + Justice

  • Share:

Facts matter. Get The Tyee's in-depth journalism delivered to your inbox for free

Tyee Commenting Guidelines

Comments that violate guidelines risk being deleted, and violations may result in a temporary or permanent user ban. Maintain the spirit of good conversation to stay in the discussion.
*Please note The Tyee is not a forum for spreading misinformation about COVID-19, denying its existence or minimizing its risk to public health.

Do:

  • Be thoughtful about how your words may affect the communities you are addressing. Language matters
  • Challenge arguments, not commenters
  • Flag trolls and guideline violations
  • Treat all with respect and curiosity, learn from differences of opinion
  • Verify facts, debunk rumours, point out logical fallacies
  • Add context and background
  • Note typos and reporting blind spots
  • Stay on topic

Do not:

  • Use sexist, classist, racist, homophobic or transphobic language
  • Ridicule, misgender, bully, threaten, name call, troll or wish harm on others
  • Personally attack authors or contributors
  • Spread misinformation or perpetuate conspiracies
  • Libel, defame or publish falsehoods
  • Attempt to guess other commenters’ real-life identities
  • Post links without providing context

LATEST STORIES

The Barometer

Do You Think Naheed Nenshi Will Win the Alberta NDP Leadership Race?

Take this week's poll