Clare Schmitt
VP of Marketing & Communications at PGLS
Gilbert Segura
VP of Technology at PGLS
There’s clarity that only comes when you’re in the room.
On March 25, we attended the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights (USCCR) briefing, Language Access for Individuals with Limited English Proficiency. We had read the agenda. We had seen the talking points. But nothing prepared us for the raw honesty of the testimony shared. For those who only watched the livestream, it is hard to convey how charged, human, and deeply personal the testimony felt in that room.
We didn’t testify—we were there to listen. As leaders in language operations and technology, we felt a responsibility to bear witness, reflect on what it means for our industry, and ask how we can do more.
As we sat listening, one thing was undeniably clear: Language access isn’t a nice-to-have or a bureaucratic box to check. It’s a public safety imperative. A moral obligation. And yes, a business issue.
A Personal Reflection: Clare
For me, it was deeply personal. I’m relatively new to the language access world—but I’m not new to what it feels like to be in a room where language is a barrier to belonging. As I sat, notebook in hand, memories came flooding back of the neighborhood I grew up in, where neighbors didn’t always share a language but shared everything else: meals, rides, childcare, laughter. I thought of my mom, who often stepped in to interpret for our neighbor, Aritza. She helped her navigate everything from coordinating with city maintenance workers to communicating with healthcare providers and law enforcement.
At the time, I saw it simply as neighborly support. But sitting in the hearing, I understood it differently. The burden of trying to make your world understandable without the right tools and support suddenly felt much heavier. Especially when I heard story after story of children interpreting for their parents in emergencies or translating complex forms at school. The emotional toll and the responsibility are too much for anyone, let alone a child.
As Ms. Tran reminded us during her testimony, “Interpreting is a specialized skill—one that requires training, accuracy, and cultural sensitivity. It’s not something you can ask someone to do just because they happen to speak the language.”
A Personal Reflection: Gilbert
From a basic accessibility lens, this is a failure to understand fundamental needs and requirements. If we’re not delivering the message clearly, consistently, and equitably, then we’re not solving the problem—we’re compounding it.
Poor design in communication isn’t just frustrating, it doesn’t just cost money; it’s dangerous. If you don’t build language access into civic interfaces from the start, you’re designing for failure. It’s not enough to simply translate a message. We have to deliver it in a way that is clear, unambiguous, in context, and accessible, whether that’s a posted evacuation plan, a courtroom proceeding, or a parent-teacher meeting. Language access isn’t a bolt-on feature. It has to be part of the blueprint. The consequences of mislabelling something are universally bad, and all languages and people deserve it; the collective costs are far outweighed by the modest investment in language access. It’s an investment in the community–we heard repeatedly that it’s not just about speaking their language, but in understanding their story. True access comes when communities shape the message, not just receive it.
It also struck me how often the children as interpreters came up—not just as witnesses to their parents’ struggle, but as participants, carrying burdens they should never have to bear. It’s a sign of quiet desperation when a child becomes a system’s last line of defense.
Stories of Barriers, Advocacy, and Solutions
When Translation Isn’t Enough: The Call for Meaningful Access
Mr. Lynip, a teacher and advocate in Richland School District in Columbia, South Carolina, spoke not just about tools or technology—but about the gap between communication and comprehension. And how students suffer when families are unheard.
He challenged the Commission to take seriously a term in its own mission statement: meaningful access.
“It’s not just a matter of having translated or interpreted materials. Parental voice has to be meaningful. It has to be loud enough for us to hear.”
He shared real stories of students:
- A student delayed for over a year in receiving educational testing because the family couldn’t navigate the system.
- A child who missed two weeks of school—not because of illness or truancy, but because her family didn’t know that having a scheduled vaccination appointment was enough to attend.
- A young girl placed in fourth grade against her mother’s wishes—only to discover later that the child had missed the first two years of school entirely.
These weren’t translation problems. They were listening problems. Design problems. System problems.
However, Mr. Lynip also offered hope, pointing to local innovations like Healthy Learners, a program that eliminates healthcare access barriers by transporting students directly to appointments. He called for more intentional collaboration—across hospitals, schools, civic groups—to remove friction points and build systems where families are seen, heard, and served.
"She’s Only Nine Years Old"
Ms. Tran, an attorney at Community Legal Services of Philadelphia, shared her personal story and professional perspective.
As the child of Cambodian refugees, she often served as an interpreter for her parents in legal, medical, and emergency settings. One memory stood out:
“A police officer entered my family’s restaurant and asked my mother to interpret for a man outside. She explained she couldn’t leave the counter—she was the only one working. The officer pointed at me and said, ‘Well, what about her?’ My mother, in disbelief, replied, ‘No, she’s only nine years old.’”
Ms. Tran wasn’t forced to go outside that night—but she recalled many times she did interpret as a child, witnessing situations she never should have been part of.
“This experience is not atypical for children of people with limited English proficiency. It is still happening today.”
Professionally, Ms. Tran now leads language access advocacy work and represents individuals with disabilities navigating Social Security. She shared the ways in which inconsistent, unreliable interpretation services can derail an already difficult process—like the story of her client Kay, who was forced to testify in English due to audio issues with her Vietnamese interpreter. The hearing had already taken six months to schedule. Kay complied rather than risk another delay.
“The failure to provide reliable interpretation services resulted in wasted time and resources, and placed an undue burden on K—adding frustration and anxiety to an already stressful process.”
Ms. Tran’s message was clear: this is not a one-off. These are recurring systemic failures. Her recommendations emphasized the need for stronger legal protections, faster complaint resolution, and the kind of enforcement that makes civil rights real.
A Personal Mission, Made Professional
Ms. Muñoz, a compliance officer at DHR Health, didn’t just talk about policy—she talked about people. And she brought her whole self to the room.
“This is personal... My commitment to serving my community has been a lifelong hobby.”
Raised along the U.S.–Mexico border, Ms. Muñoz shared her journey—interpreting for families in her community, supporting students with disabilities, and now overseeing ADA and language access services for a healthcare system that serves nearly 2 million people.
She spoke not only about the emotional weight of language access, but about the practical infrastructure her team has put in place—bilingual staff, in-house interpreters, proficiency assessments, community education, and multi-tiered language support. Spanish-language services are built into their staffing model and budget planning.
“Language access is a fundamental part of delivering quality healthcare. Effective communication empowers patients to make informed decisions—improving both outcomes and overall well-being.”
Even in a region where Spanish is dominant, Ms. Muñoz emphasized the importance of preparing for less common languages and continually expanding access tools. Her testimony was a reminder that doing this work right takes intention, empathy, and investment. And when done right—it works.
"They Don’t Just Translate Words. They Save Lives."
Ms. de la Iglesia, Director of Language and Accessibility Services at Mount Sinai Health System in New York City, has spent nearly two decades working at the intersection of language and care. But her testimony started with something more personal:
“As an immigrant to this country 25 years ago—without language—I experienced firsthand what it is and how it feels.”
At Mount Sinai, her team supports patients speaking over 800 languages. Her integrated, multi-modal approach includes in-person interpreters, phone and video services, embedded technology, and written translations.
“Interpreters are critical. They don’t just translate words. They save lives.”
She spoke of interpreters facilitating surgeries, transplants, and end-of-life conversations. Despite the ongoing challenges—especially for rare languages and patients with disabilities—her message was clear:
“This work speaks to our shared humanity—and our belief that every person deserves to be heard, in their own language, in their own moment.”
Designing for Dignity: Native Language Access
Ms. Allison Neswood, Senior Staff Attorney at the Native American Rights Fund and citizen of the Navajo Nation, reminded us that language access is not one-size-fits-all.
Many Native languages are unwritten, have multiple dialects, or lack direct translations for complex concepts. That demands more than forms—it demands partnership.
“When my community members need to speak about something personal or important, they shift back into Navajo.”
She urged the Commission to build systems that reflect cultural understanding, designed in collaboration with Native communities—not just for accuracy, but for dignity. Her testimony reinforced something we’ve heard across many communities:
“Language access isn’t just a service—it’s a signal of respect.”
The Business Case: Often Overlooked
Lack of language access doesn’t just harm individuals. It breaks systems.
It increases risk. It drives up costs. It slows emergency response. It adds friction to every interaction.
At the briefing, Dr. Bill Rivers, a linguist and national leader in language access policy, laid out the real-world operational gaps that persist—especially at the local level. While legal protections are in place, implementation is inconsistent. Schools, healthcare systems, and municipal agencies are often overwhelmed, under-resourced, and facing a patchwork of languages spoken by small populations.
“This isn’t just about refraining from discrimination—Language access is much more like provision of access under the Americans with Disabilities Act. It requires proactive action. We have to do something. That means extending resources, investing in infrastructure, and doing the hard work of designing for access.”
That “something” means building access into the design of our systems—not bolting it on as an afterthought. It means recognizing that miscommunication isn’t just inefficient—it can create risk, delays, and breakdowns in service delivery.
The industry has the capacity to meet the need—350+ languages, 24/7, often in under two minutes. But systems must be in place to take advantage of it. Without that infrastructure, even the best language providers can’t close the gap.
The reality is that when language isn’t a given, communication must be intentional.
That’s the work we do every day—creating access on purpose. And in a moment like this, when responsibility for language access is increasingly shifting to state and local levels, our role becomes even more vital.
We’re not just enabling compliance. We’re helping systems work—efficiently, equitably, and safely.
The Call Forward
We didn’t just walk away with notes. We brought the stories back to our teams, to our clients, and to our company roadmap.
We’re working with school districts, hospitals, and public agencies to build solutions that don’t just comply—they connect.
We’re building systems that reduce risk, improve trust, and reach people in the language they understand.
We’re not waiting on a perfect policy. We’re moving with clarity and urgency.
Because this work doesn’t belong to one party, one agency, or one industry. It belongs to all of us.
We’ll be listening. And we’ll keep building what’s next.
The U.S. Commission on Civil Rights briefing highlighted the real-world impact of language barriers across education, healthcare, and public services. For educators, these challenges are especially pressing. If you’re an educator located in the DMV area, join us at our second annual Language Access Symposium to explore solutions, share experiences, and collaborate on building more inclusive schools where every student and family is heard. Among others, you’ll hear from Mark Byrne, Jason Velasco, and Bill Rivers on the future of language access in K-12 education.