Survivors' Voices: What People Don't Understand
I am blessed and honored to be able to spend so much of my time listening to the stories, perspectives, and wisdom of those who have experienced abuse by Catholic leaders. There is so much I didn’t understand six years ago that I see much more clearly today.
I also know most people don’t have the opportunity to listen directly to victim-survivors on a regular basis, so this blog is one attempt to bring their voices to a broader audience. I believe that there is so much we can all learn when we listen with an open mind and heart.
So, this month’s topic is rather open-ended. I just asked our Survivors’ Voices Panel to share: What do people not understand about abuse in the Catholic Church, or your experience as a survivor? Here’s what they had to say:
When I came forward as an adult to report having been raped by a Catholic priest when I was 15, this quote from a parishioner at the priest’s current parish appeared in a local newspaper article following the Church’s press release about my allegation: “I’m not saying that there aren’t some priests that are guilty. But there are priests that have been exonerated. A lot of these priests get kicked to the curb from allegations from someone out there trying to make a buck.” When I read this, it infuriated me. The experience of reporting my rape—first to the Church, and later on, to law enforcement—was hell; to the point where I became suicidal and had to be briefly hospitalized. I cannot fathom that any survivor would put themselves through an experience like mine, just to get a settlement.
So much is not understood. So much. Perhaps one of the least understood dimensions of abuse by Catholic leaders is the power differential that exists, and the ways in which that is leveraged by abusers. For me, over 20 years later, I think back to moments when I "should" have seen what was happening, when I "should" have stopped it. What I overlooked for so long -- and still struggle with at times -- is that I never, ever should have been put in the situation where it became necessary for me to do so. Perhaps much of the abuse in the Catholic Church stems from the root cause of abuse of power.
A few years back, I was at a conference about writing books, and I met a few women who asked me what my book was about. I was terrified to share that my book was about surviving priest abuse, but even more so when I learned that all three women were Catholics! My initial reaction was to duck and cover (priest abuse survivors typically aren’t treated well by the Catholic Church). I learned that my fear of being battered by rank-and-file Catholics was misplaced – these were the kindest, most loving women who had nothing but compassion for my plight. They respectfully asked about my specific abuse experiences. I felt heard; they felt shocked. They were further shocked with how victims/survivors were really treated behind the scenes by the church; how extensive the abuse was; how the church hired lobbyists to push laws favoring pedophile priests on issues such as statute of limitations or burdens of proof; how dozens of dioceses filed bankruptcies so survivors would not be fairly compensated; how survivors were verbally beaten up during discovery and court proceedings, then often required to sign non-disclosure agreements when settling so their stories would remain buried. These women saw my raw emotion. I saw their shock at how the church had lied to them about what really was going on. I could tell that they felt betrayed by the Church’s depiction of survivors, and how the platitudes and promises they’d heard in the pews were not true in reality. We sat together and shared throughout the multi-day conference. We learned so much about and from each other – and much love and hugs were shared between the four of us.
The culture of decency can go a long way. Recently, a victim went to the diocese, but the bishop had his lawyer present so the victim became nervous and did not continue sharing about his abuse. He felt alone and afraid. No one was there for him. He felt violated again by the Church. The bishop asked him how much money he wanted, and the victim was shocked by the cold question by this person who should have demonstrated love and compassion. When the victim went into the office, he only wanted an apology from the bishop. Now, after encountering this lack of empathy, sympathy, or love, the victim is going forward with the request for a large sum of money. A decent apology could have saved the diocese a lawsuit. Most victims would love to know the Church truly cares and believes them. A sincere apology makes the difference for many victims. It is the most decent thing our leaders can do.
Something I hear a lot in certain circles is that all the abuse is because there's "so much homosexuality that's snuck into the Church." I've even heard it blamed for abuse of women - "oh, that priest had homosexual formators! He never had a chance against his own lust!" It confounds me, because it seems like these people choose to forget that a priest can sexually sin and homosexuality have absolutely nothing to do with it.
In my experience, the greatest misconception is that a relationship with a priest and a parishioner can be a consensual affair between two people equal in power; many assume the victim to have been the initiator or treat the victim as a jilted lover instead of someone who was victimized, conned, manipulated, and exploited. The priest in my situation heavily groomed me, tapping into my emotions and deepest vulnerability. Once these emotions are evoked, it is hard to stay grounded by the rational mind. The highly manipulative nature and attempts to confuse the victim with gaslighting make it even more confusing. Somehow people think the victim should have “known better” and stood up to the cleric in a strong way; this seems counterintuitive given how clerics are portrayed to those those growing up in the Catholic Church. I never lost that mindset of reverence and obedience. I thought the priest was the one to be protected at all costs, because his job makes him vulnerable to the devil’s attacks. But a shepherd is supposed to protect the sheep in the pasture, not the other way around. The priest should be leading the parishioner to heaven, not to hell, but that’s certainly what I went through in the wake of reporting. Not only is there the trauma of the priest’s actions but the added trauma of reporting it.
I wish people could understand my anger... and how confusing and distressing that anger is. Because I’m so angry. I’m angry with myself, for still being affected by what happened to me. I’m angry with God for leading me into the situation that got me so hurt, for seeming to approve of what was happening and letting my abusers convince me they knew better than I did what I needed and wanted. I’m angry at the authority structure of the Church, that seems to set people up to be abused. But for whatever reason, I’m not particularly angry with my abusers. I want nothing to do with them ever again, of course, but mostly I’m just angry at myself and at God for having let them abuse me. And for God’s sake, I wish people understood that my anger and distrust toward the Church and toward authorities is. not. pride. It’s trauma. It’s an attempt to protect myself from getting hurt again and to safeguard my own dignity in the aftermath of my dignity being ripped away from me by egregious misuse and abuse of authority.
Thank you to each person who shared a response on this subject, and to everyone who is taking the time to read. I will have more to share on this topic next week.
If you have experienced any form of abuse by a Catholic leader and would like to share your own thoughts on this or future topics, I would be grateful to include your perspective. You can find information about joining the Survivors’ Voices Panel here: An Invitation for Survivors.
Thank you,
Sara