BAGUIO CITY – He sleeps in the arms of strangers and has never felt his mother’s touch, nor heard her sing to him.
Joe (not his real name) is the son of Gillian, a deaf woman under the care of the Department of Social Welfare and Development-Cordillera Administrative Region (DSWD-CAR).
Nobody knows Gillian’s real name. The story of how she ended up sleeping in the streets of Baguio with a swollen belly is locked up in hostile silence. Unable to read and write or express herself through sign language, she can hardly be helped by social workers who can only try to guess what thoughts lurk beneath that silence.
Gillian will not even look at her son. When he is brought to her, she becomes violent as though the mere sight of him makes her relive a trauma that she’d rather forget.
Like Gillian, the deaf all over the country find themselves on unequal footing with others who are not hearing-impaired. In this city, there are no government programs that specifically cater to them or provide life skills training and courses on standard sign language, leaving them vulnerable to different forms of abuse – physical, psycho-emotional, and sexual.
“The deaf suffer from two handicaps,” points out Baguio city councilor Betty Lourdes Tabanda, who also heads the Committee for the Welfare of Women and Children. “They are deaf-mute and marginalized. Although we have a program for PWDs [persons with disabilities], in general, we do not have a specific program for these two groups.”
The problem is compounded when these deaf-mute find themselves in situations where they seek justice and realize that their legal access is limited, if not totally absent, because there are no adequate guidelines that pertain to them.
Organizations working for the welfare of the deaf, such as the Filipino Deaf Women’s Health and Crisis Center (FDWHCC), the Philippine Federation of the Deaf (PFD) and the Philippine Deaf Resource Center (PDRC) note that there is no organized system for interpreting sign language in court rooms. Judges, lawyers and court staff also lack awareness on sign communication.
The only existing policy covering cases of the deaf so far is Supreme Court Memo 59-2004, which requires that an interpreter be provided for the deaf when they testify in court.
The organizations claim, however, that the memo contains no specific guidelines on the choice and assignment of qualified and ethical court interpreters as well as guidelines on the actual process of interpreting in the courtroom. Neither does it mention any oath of confidentiality, neutrality or professionalism, nor does it provide for the training of interpreters on courtroom procedures and legal terms.
As it is, the memo provides interpretation only during the reading of charges and testifying. “Two-way communication is overlooked, since the interpreting is regarded as a need only of the deaf,” the groups point out.
This situation puts the deaf or hearing-impaired, particularly women like Gillian, at greatest disadvantage.
As of the 2000 census, people with disabilities comprise 1.23 percent of the country’s 76 million population. Of these, 121,598 are hearing impaired and about half of them are female. Deaf women aged 20 to 34 accounted for 14,186, while younger deaf girls accounted for 15,226.
Liza Martinez, director of the PDRC, noted that an alarming 65 to 70 percent of young deaf girls are molested. Citing a 2005 study by Iyer and Fortunato of 60 respondents in Manila and Cebu, she notes that one out of three deaf women was raped. Of 32 deaf women respondents in Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao, 72 percent were abused or battered, 63 percent by their own fathers. This could translate to over 100 rape cases of deaf women all over the country every year.
Sanchu Iyer was a deaf volunteer of Voluntary Service Overseas who worked with the PFD and the PDRC, and collected field data for the study. Barbara Fortunato, a hearing volunteer with the PDRC, helped write and edit the report.
From 2006-2007, according to the PDRC, 25 cases involving the deaf were filed in the Regional Trial Courts. In a period of 60 years, from 1926-1990, only 11 cases involving the deaf reached the Supreme Court; 6 of these were rape cases involving deaf women and children. Of the six cases, four involved deaf minors. All rape victims were unschooled.
In Metro Manila, also according to PDRC, 53 cases of sexual abuse of deaf women were reported over eight years but only 14 cases were actually filed in court. None has prospered.
“It is very difficult for them to prove their claims when they are asked to testify. They cannot defend themselves as they are the only witness [to the crime],” explains Myrna Barcelona, a DSWD CAR social worker who handled Gillian’s case.
Such cases take too long to resolve, or are eventually dismissed because families do not cooperate, thinking the court will not understand the testimony of their deaf relative anyway, Barcelona adds.
“The victims’ families, many of whom are uneducated, often decide to withdraw or to settle the matter outside court in exchange for money from the accused or his family,” she says. “This is very frustrating for us because the cases do not prosper despite all the steps that we have taken.”
Flor Paragas, executive director of the Baguio-based Project Luke Center, a non-government organization working with PWDs, reiterates the DSWD claim that the conviction rate of rape cases among the deaf is nil due to the lack of knowledge on sign language among court personnel, the rape victim’s fear of repercussions from the suspect’s family, the lack of financial resources, as well as the feeling of shame or stigma associated with rape.
“Disclosure is a bold step,” says Paragas. “The support system must be strong. It is important for the victims to know where they can run to for help, that there are people outside who are willing to help.”
“We have to rehabilitate society itself, starting with [the deaf’s] families,” she adds, noting that many indigenous families, especially in the Cordillera, opt to settle outside court because of the cultural view that rape is shameful to the family. It is also believed that it is taboo to talk of this as it may bring bad luck to the community.
Mia Cawed, a Baguio-based women’s rights lawyer and legal counsel of the city DSWD before she became the city’s Family Court judge, says that cases like these tend to drag on largely because of the inherent communication problem. A multi-disciplinary approach is needed, which includes providing sign language training for psychologists, psychiatrists and social workers.
So far, efforts to address the problems of access to justice include continuing research led by NGOs and organizations of the deaf. There are also proposals to establish national standards for assessment and the continuing evaluation of interpreters, an amendatory memo to SC 59-2004. Also included in the proposal is an awareness campaign in the Philippine Judicial Academy, Integrated Bar of the Philippines and the Supreme Court, and lobbying with the Committee on Human Rights in Congress to institutionalize interpreting procedures and funding in courts.
PDRC’s Martinez also recalls that the landmark international covenant of the UN Convention for the Rights of Persons with Disabilities (UNCRPD) was ratified in the Philippines in 2008. “As a comprehensive rights-based document, it is very significant not only to the deaf but to all PWDs here and all over the world,” she notes.
“But despite it being an extremely powerful instrument, a lot still hinge on implementation and monitoring, as well as the stakeholders’ advocacy,” Martinez adds. “Otherwise, the UNCRPD will suffer the same fate as our Republic Act 7277 or the Magna Carta for Persons with Disabilities.”
Gillian’s case is instructive.
With no means of supporting herself and her child, as well as her obvious emotional and psychological problems and her inability to understand legal procedures, Gillian may never even guess what fate awaits her son. The DSWD has filed a petition for the involuntary commitment of little Joe to start off his adoption process. Even more disturbing, the boy might never find out his mother’s true name and the pain she has carried in her life.
For Paragas and other social workers like her, Gillian’s fate is a result of society’s indifference and the gap in government support for the deaf. “We all have disabilities. We are crippled by indifference and fear. We have to be more supportive of those who cannot defend themselves,” Paragas points out. Women’s Feature Service