Profile: Alison Aubrecht,
Mental Health Counselor: Part II

Interview by Julie Eckhardt

This is part two of an interview with Alison Aubrecht. Alison works as a mental health counselor at Michigan School for the Deaf (MSD). Alison did her internship in London, England at National Deaf Services. She holds a Masters degree in Mental Health Counseling from Gallaudet University. Click here to read Part One of this interview.

Julie: Alison, What drew you to the mental health field?

Alison: I love working with people. What better job could there be than to sit with someone and talk about life? Who are you, where did you come from? What do want and what steps are needed to accomplish that?

People are challenging. They are a chasm of emotions and experiences. It’s inspiring to journey with them through all of that. As a Deaf person, I know firsthand the obstacles that we face. I can’t imagine a better way to apply my experiences than to encourage other deaf people – – both through counseling and writing–– towards the realization that we are not helpless!

Julie: What were the biggest challenges in training for your career, and currently in your work?

Alison: Probably most of my challenges in school were the same as anyone would experience: studying for exams, late nights doing research papers, etc. There was also the beginner’s anxiety that comes with being a new therapist. One thing that was a struggle at times was the one or two professors who were not very fluent with ASL, but who had too much pride to willingly bring in an interpreter. Because of the politics at universities, none of us wanted to be the one to challenge the professor lest our grades suffer. Those classes were a drag.

In my career, I guess the most frustrating thing would be the attitudes I have to face. There are parents who are uncomfortable working with me. Their reasons could be as simple as not liking my personality or as complicated as not trusting a deaf person. It’s not fair for me to decide their reasons—but sometimes it does feel more like the latter than the former, and that hurts. I have colleagues who seem to look at me as a deaf person first, a counselor second. My professional opinion, therefore, does not carry much weight. That’s frustrating—especially when I KNOW what I’m talking about.

I have a hard time restraining myself when I see deaf children being mistreated. I really have to work to put aside my own counter– transference when I encounter parents who neglect their children or deprive their child of the right to communicate in the way that works best for them, rather than the method easiest for the parent. Another difficult situation is when I encounter teachers who don’t sign well. In such environments, children are deprived of access to full understanding of family issues, language, and education. It’s so heartbreaking.

Julie: Let’s talk about mental health in the Deaf Community. I know it is extremely difficult (at least in Northern Michigan where I live) to find culturally appropriate services for people who are deaf or hard of hearing. Even in Flint and Detroit, there are very limited options. Do you have any thoughts on this? How do you think your experience is different as a therapist who is deaf with deaf clients?

Alison: It’s hard, yes, for many different reasons. First, there are not enough culturally aware/ASL proficient therapists in Michigan. Believe it or not—many Deaf people actually feel safer with a hearing therapist! Because the Deaf community is so small, many feel there is less chance of violation of confidentiality and less risk of running into the therapist at social events if the therapist is hearing.

It is hard being a deaf therapist. We have to be careful with our image. I find that as a young deaf therapist it’s a struggle. I have to think about where I go and who will be there, lest people draw conclusions about my aptitude as a therapist on the basis of what I do in my free time. It’s not all that much different from being a hearing therapist in a small town.

I have to be especially careful if one of my client’s names comes up in a social situation. I can’t comment on it:

Alarms in my head warn: CHANGE SUBJECT QUICK!!!! Trust is so fragile. Maybe my client’s sister is a good friend of mine. How should I handle that? Deaf therapists have to decide what’s worse: clients not getting help or juggling boundaries more carefully so that clients who might have a closer connection to our personal lives than we’d like can receive services.

It’s harder for clients because their choices are even more limited. As a hearing person, you can go to different therapists until you find the one who suits you. Deaf people have a lot more limitations: Will insurance cover the one person in town who signs? Is that person deaf or hearing and is that the preference? What if the person is only comfortable with a male or a female counselor? What kind of counseling approach is most appropriate and is that available? Do the client and therapist know each other already and from what type of situation? There are a lot of difficulties to navigate, and usually few choices in providers.

Julie: Have you ever worked with hearing clients or in a primarily hearing agency? How was that? Did you feel integrated into the workplace? How have you handled some of the stickier situations?

Alison: I don’t usually have hearing clients, except for the parents of the children I work with. Nearly all of my work has been with Deaf and Hard of Hearing clients. But I have had many hearing colleagues. I find that if the agency is made up primarily of Deaf employees, the communication thing is no problem at all. Hearing people integrate themselves and adapt to the environment. But when it’s the other way around, mostly hearing people in the workplace, that’s hard. Michigan is not well known for positive attitudes towards deaf people, or for excellent interpreters. Meetings are a challenge. One–on–one isn’t so bad.

It’s not easy to be assertive. I’m a confident, assertive person and I still struggle to ask people to meet my needs. It’s mostly a political game. For example, if a hearing woman feels that she’s not being treated equal to men and speaks out, people stand up and notice. If a deaf person asks for equality in communication the response is often, “Calm down, calm down. You’re being radical.”

I work in a school. There’s no place more political than the educational system (except, perhaps, government settings). You have to be careful who is asked for what. A contract worker must walk especially softly because they might not ask you back next year. It can be frustrating.

The ADA reminds people that they cannot deny a person a job because of a perceived “disability.” But the ADA doesn’t say that you can’t patronize a deaf person. It doesn’t say you have to use ASL or qualified interpreters. It doesn’t say that you can’t have a meeting without a deaf person there because it’s cheaper than paying for the interpreter. It’s the little day–to–day things that knock you down.

Julie: Is there anything you would like to add before we close?

Alison: I’m a big fan of visual mediums: art, writing, photography, sand, coloring books, Lego blocks. I think that tactile/visual objects are a wonderful part of therapy—especially for deaf clients. It’s both an unconscious process and a comfortable way to express your self. There’s something beautiful about seeing a child who was never given the means to express himself go from knocking books off a table in frustration, to using little GI–Joe figurines to tell a story about something that hurt him. And then, seeing that glow when he realizes that you understand what he is trying to communicate. Granted, it’s rare. You have to work hard to find the connection. But when it happens… Wow!