These reflections from abuse survivors are gut-wrenching, but so important for us to hear. (If you missed part one on this topic, you can read that here.) The pattern I’ve seen when talking with other survivors is that vulnerability is what the predator priests look for when searching for grooming opportunities. In my case, my mother took me to our parish priest (a Monsignor) after she caught my uncle raping me in the middle of the night in our home. I was only seven. My mother immediately kicked my uncle out of the house, but she didn’t know how to help me, so she brought me to the Monsignor. She placed her trust in him to take care of her little girl to get her through the trauma. That reaching out, unbeknownst to my mother, put a target on my back. The Monsignor used my vulnerable state to groom me. His initial kindness and attention hooked me. As things progressed to more invasive touching and worse, I remember telling my mom that I didn’t like seeing the Monsignor. She told me to trust him, as God was guiding his actions. It never entered her mind that he was capable of hurting me, and I didn’t know that what was being done to me was criminal. The Monsignor told me I was special, that Jesus chose me for special treatment. I was sworn to secrecy, then threatened into silence, so nothing was ever shared. A vulnerable child with no knowledge of what is OK and not OK has no frame of reference, therefore no recourse. The groomer gets free rein. The rapes went on for many years, until I graduated from eighth grade and left town for a minor novitiate, where my vulnerability invited new levels of abuse, much more extreme. After all, it’s all I knew.
Survivors' Voices: Vulnerability, Part 2
Survivors' Voices: Vulnerability, Part 2
Survivors' Voices: Vulnerability, Part 2
These reflections from abuse survivors are gut-wrenching, but so important for us to hear. (If you missed part one on this topic, you can read that here.) The pattern I’ve seen when talking with other survivors is that vulnerability is what the predator priests look for when searching for grooming opportunities. In my case, my mother took me to our parish priest (a Monsignor) after she caught my uncle raping me in the middle of the night in our home. I was only seven. My mother immediately kicked my uncle out of the house, but she didn’t know how to help me, so she brought me to the Monsignor. She placed her trust in him to take care of her little girl to get her through the trauma. That reaching out, unbeknownst to my mother, put a target on my back. The Monsignor used my vulnerable state to groom me. His initial kindness and attention hooked me. As things progressed to more invasive touching and worse, I remember telling my mom that I didn’t like seeing the Monsignor. She told me to trust him, as God was guiding his actions. It never entered her mind that he was capable of hurting me, and I didn’t know that what was being done to me was criminal. The Monsignor told me I was special, that Jesus chose me for special treatment. I was sworn to secrecy, then threatened into silence, so nothing was ever shared. A vulnerable child with no knowledge of what is OK and not OK has no frame of reference, therefore no recourse. The groomer gets free rein. The rapes went on for many years, until I graduated from eighth grade and left town for a minor novitiate, where my vulnerability invited new levels of abuse, much more extreme. After all, it’s all I knew.