HAWAI‘I LANGUAGE CHAMPION: BARBARA TOM

by Tihaniremaria Quartero

In the year 2020, I found myself overwhelmed with great uncertainty and despair as the world seemingly shut down before my very eyes. My mental and physical health spiraled after losing employment and falling ill during a time of heightened health anxiety. Receiving healthcare was nearly impossible. I found myself in an endless loop of phone tag with health service providers and doctors as I tried to apply for health insurance and other social services. As the days went on, I found myself growing frustrated and began to lose hope for any improvement in my situation. Fortunately for me, after a lot of phone calls, I finally was able to speak to the right people, complete the proper paperwork, and receive health care services. These circumstances would have been difficult even outside of a pandemic. Despite having public information and health resources accessible to me, it was still not a linear path to the services I needed. 

My whole experience trying to get access to health care is something I hadn’t really reflected on until recently. My whole experience was done in my first language, English. Despite growing up in a monolingual household, I was no stranger to my grandparents’ stories of misunderstandings and language barriers that my Papa had experienced after moving to Hawaiʻi from Tahiti as a young boy. My favorite story of Papa’s was his first day of elementary school. As a new student, who looked like a local boy, many were quick to approach and speak to him. Papa grew overwhelmed. He only spoke Reo Tahiti and French. Unable to understand his classmates or teachers, he ran into the school yard and climbed the nearest coconut tree. He stayed there until his older sister was called to ask him to come down. Although I find Papa’s stories endearing and I hold them close to my heart, they exemplify how nerve wracking and confusing barriers created by language can be. I began reflecting on my experience trying to receive health care. If I struggled to find information on health care services and pandemic resources, completely in my first language, I cannot fathom how much bigger and deeper these barriers would be for others looking for answers with limited English proficiency. 

The COVID-19 pandemic has further accentuated the importance of providing language access to basic resources for heath and well-being, including but not limited to, digital access, translators, and interpreter services. This access is necessary so that communities with limited English proficiency can understand what exactly COVID is, and what they can do to protect themselves. In the state of Hawaiʻi, 1 in 9 people have limited English proficiency (LEP). This is a statistic often cited in the pursuit of language accessibility and equity. Despite knowing this statistic, it wasn’t until I attended the virtual “Talk Story” session held by the Hawaiʻi Coalition for Immigrant Rights (HCIR) and the Joint Filipino Legislative Caucus that I truly began to unpack and understand the deep complexity of who and what it meant to be 1 in 9. 

Many of the panelists who spoke at this session work closely with the 1 in 9, coming from state agencies and community organizations who experience firsthand the importance of language access. Panelists also included individuals from immigrant communities who shared their stories and experiences regarding language barriers. These stories and voices really began to shift my perspective and made me take a closer look at 1 in 9. 

Prior to attending this session, I thought I had a fair amount of knowledge and awareness regarding language access and language barriers. The stories Papa shared were stories told warmly, but they also resonate strongly with the anxieties and language barriers of today. And despite my close proximity to LEP individuals and individuals who did not use English at home, there were very large gaps in my understanding of who and what it meant to be 1 in 9. Many of the panelists expressed deep concern for the communities with LEP individuals that were disproportionately affected by the COVID-19 pandemic. 

It was not until I heard the words of Barbara Tom that I began to recall Papa’s stories and deeply reflect on language access. From his early age, my Papa had grown a deep mistrust of Western medicine after experiencing language barriers when trying to receive care after arriving in Hawai‘i. Trying to receive care in an unfamiliar place and in a new language was an unbearable and overwhelming experience for my grandfather, and an experience he carried with him until he passed. Barbara’s testimony echoed that of my grandfather’s language anxieties and struggles, especially in regard to language access. 

Barbara Tom is an amazing force. As the director of Waipahu Safe Haven, she works with diverse immigrant and migrant communities, leading an organization focused on improving the success of the community and helping individuals and families out of poverty. One of her most important tasks is providing holistic programs and services with language access. 

During her presentation, Barbara detailed the accessibility to language resources and services and how difficult they were to obtain even if they were available for vulnerable migrant and immigrant populations and communities. Barbara explained that in the beginning of the pandemic, Safe Haven’s four interpreters were overwhelmed by a barrage of calls from individuals requesting advice and assistance regarding quarantine, wraparound services, unemployment, and isolation. This moment really resonated with me, reminding me of my Papa’s language barriers and his difficulties trying to receive care or answers from health care and service providers. 

“Many of the families did not speak English, cannot use technology, cannot use transportation, and sometimes not even a phone. These families were living well below the poverty level. Although there was translated material on the city and some of the state websites, as well as others, it was not accessible to these families,” explained Barbara during her testimony. These experiences are not uncommon amongst immigrant and migrant communities, especially within large communities of LEP individuals. 

The panelists at the session all shared their first-hand experiences with language barriers and language access. Barbara’s testimony clearly speaks to the fact that there is a dire need for translators and interpreters for these communities, as well as meaningful change to provide equitable accessibility to these communities living below the poverty level. Waipahu Safe Haven strives to be a guiding resource for success and empowering children and families to be self-sustaining. 

I was able to speak with Barbara after the virtual session. After our conversation, it was clear to me that Waipahu Safe Haven champions the diverse communities and cultures that they serve. Currently, the center provides services to Samoan, Filipino, Marshallese and Chuukese communities. I was eager to ask Barbara all about the programs and services they had to offer. I learned that Waipahu Safe Haven offers a variety of services, from assistance with health enrollment, rent, and utilities, to after-school tutorial services for keiki.

Barbara emphasized that tutorials were not just home-work and schoolwork focused. Their programs focus on literacy and incorporating cultural knowledge. This really spoke to me, and clearly displays the ways which Waipahu Safe Haven values language and culture. Safe Haven goes beyond assimilation and finds a path that enables communities to maintain cultural practices and identities while navigating through new environments.  

Hearing about these programs made me feel so seen and heard, as a multi-ethnic person. My grandparents never taught my parents any other languages besides English. It gave me the impression that you could not have both. I grew up with the mindset that I spoke English at the cost of my grandparents first languages and cultures. Learning about Barbara and Waipahu Safe Haven and how they continually fight for accessibility and development of language resources and culturally sensitive services to build self-sustaining skills and success for these communities, calmed that doubt in my mind. You CAN have both. 

I also couldn’t help but imagine how much services like these would have positively impacted my Papa and his family when they came from Tahiti. Even if there were services and resources available like the amazing work that Waipahu Safe Haven offers, they were not readily or easily accessible for people like Papa at the time. The difficulties that Papa faced while trying to receive care did not last as he gained fluency in English. However, he carried the experiences with him. Papa passed at an early age, not wanting much to do with Western medicine. Papa’s experience’s speaks volumes on the importance of these services that Waipahu Safe Haven provides. 

This overall experience of learning and reflecting have left me with a big question looming in the back of my mind. These barriers have existed long before the pandemic and they don’t seem to be going away. Learning about the great services that Barbara and Waipahu Safe Haven provide revealed to me how much great work is happening. However, it is evident that there is still a long way to go. 1 in 9 to me, is more than just a statistic now. I now know, my own Papa and his experiences are represented in this number. When this much of the population is not thriving, the rest will feel it. The hard work ahead must done, and without it we cannot succeed. 

Author: Tihaniremaria Quartero is a Senior at the University of Hawai’i at Mānoa majoring in English. She grew up with a love for multiculturalism and multilingualism, surrounded by friends and family members that spoke many languages other than English. She has spent the last 10 years studying Japanese and hopes to build proficiency in ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi and Korean. Tihani enjoys travelling and hopes to one day visit South Korea, Aotearoa, and Mo’orea.