Why didn’t I tell someone?
As a victim of abuse by a priest, I was recently asked why I didn’t tell anyone I was being abused. In fact, when I finally told my own mother last year, she asked me the same question. I came to understand that this question is more widespread than I realized, and that a lot of people reading the news about men who were abused by priests can’t fathom why it takes years before declaring “I was abused by a priest”. I decided it was time to put into words all the complex issues facing me, a child of 10 in the early 60’s.
First of all, you must realize that when the abuse happened, I was NOT a man. I was a naïve little boy, with dreams of becoming an altar boy, and maybe even a priest. My nine brothers and two sisters and I were raised in a Catholic household. We went to church every Sunday and all the Holydays. We took our breakfast to school in lunchboxes to eat after mass and communion on First Fridays. (You couldn’t eat before communion in those days before Vatican II!)
We were taught from an early age to respect our elders. Special respect was to be given the priests and nuns who dedicated their lives to doing God’s work. The priest above all, was revered. He was the ordained representative of Jesus Christ, he was God on earth! He was entrusted to lead us to heaven. This last sentence is important, the priest was ENTRUSTED to lead us to heaven.
As I attended catholic school, the priests and nuns were the ones teaching me to care for my immortal soul. To live as Jesus and the Catholic Church wants us to. We were raised to be, “good Catholics”.
In addition, this wide eyed 10 year old boy watched in awe during the mass as the priest, dressed in remarkable garments, said his solemn prayers. These were all spoken in Latin of course and I had no idea at the time WHAT he was saying, just that he was talking to God. He could talk directly to God! And then, wonder of wonders, this priest, when he said the “magic words” would turn bread and wine in Jesus Christ’s body and blood! What special powers he held! This man was above all men! This was, in fact, not a man, but a “man of the cloth”, a “servant of God”.
As an adult looking back, I can see all the power this man had in the eyes of that little 10 year old boy. The respect I had for him. The TRUST I placed in him.
In the schoolyard at recess, we would all run to him when he descended from on high to visit us mere children. As we excitedly gathered around this man in his black “dress” we would say in respectful tones, “Good morning, Father”.
He would watch us play. At times when he would speak to us, we would all listen with rapt attention.
Then came the times he would single me out from the crowd. How proud I was to be “chosen” today. To spend some alone time with this most revered of men. To think that of all the kids, he chose ME to talk to. I was indeed “special”.
After the other kids went back to their class, Father and I talked. (I didn’t have to go back to class, as I was with “Father”.) During the talk, came the hugs. With the hugs, came the touching, and so on.
I remember thinking at some point, this doesn’t feel right. But this little catholic boy of 10 looks at the priest, looks at the collar he is wearing and thinks, this MUST be ok. It’s the priest who is doing it. But the feeling of it not being right persists. He can’t recognize the sexual nature of these contacts. He doesn’t know WHAT is happening, just that it “doesn’t feel right”.
The lifelong “conflict” begins. He shouldn’t be touching me “there”. BUT, he’s a priest, he always does the right thing. He represents GOD!
How in the world is a 10-year-old boy taught from birth to obey and respect a priest, going to ignore everything and “tell someone”? How can he tell his buddy’s what the priest is doing when we giggle at seeing someone’s underwear? How can he tell his mom or dad, the priest is having sex with him when he doesn’t even know what sex is yet?
I can’t tell you the psychological terms for what happens. It may be “detachment” or some other clinical explanation. All I know is that for that 10 year old boy, my mind simply set the abuse aside. It wasn’t a conscience decision to set it aside. Nor did I forget that it happened. Somehow, I lived on. I kept my “dirty little secret” to myself. To this day, I don’t know if I ever really dealt with it.
I know I still have the conflict in my mind. I still feel both anger and guilt when I see a roman collar on any priest or minister. To most people, it represents something safe and warm. To me, it’s the symbol of lost innocence, lost faith, and lost TRUST. And THAT is the real crime.
Ok, so why do I publicly speak openly now, 40 years later? In one sentence, I couldn’t deal with it! I always had some interest in reports through the years about claims of sex abuse by priests, but I still couldn’t bring myself to tell “my dirty little secret”. Part of it may be my “maleness”. To admit I was molested, even though I had no control over the abuse, somehow threatens MY masculinity. There are many reasons why I haven’t been able to deal with it. (Each victim has her or his own reasons.)
I finally decided last year to make myself deal with it. Primarily due to the tremendous courage of those victims who came before me. They let me know that I was not alone! That it did happen to other kids. (I knew intellectually that it had to have been happening to other kids, I just wasn’t sure. After all, this was a priest!) Those victims gave me the strength. I saw the pain in their stories and wanted to give some strength back. Yes! I believe you! It happened to me too!
So I told my story. I told my mom. I told my brothers and sister. Most are “ok” with it. I contacted the “hot line” in the diocese where it happened. I was given an apology, sympathy, and an offer of help, which I accepted. That helped to ease my pain considerably. (How differently things would be nationwide if ALL the diocese in the country treated their victims as I was treated, with compassion and help!)
Then, a few weeks after I told “my dirty little secret”, I awoke one morning in a cold sweat thinking “God is pissed at me”. I’m exposing one of His representatives as a child molester. I’m attacking His church. I’m attacking HIM! (That conflict set in place during childhood needs to get resolved.)
You cannot imagine the total despair when you believe that God himself is against you! (I have a new appreciation and great admiration for Job!) I met with the counselor provided by the church to talk this through. I’m doing better. I have lots of things to “deal with”. I still can’t look at a collar. I stay away from organized religion these days. I have a hard time trusting. I need to repeat this, I have a hard time TRUSTING. Period.
So, I hope I’ve passed along a little bit of insight of that
10-year-old boy who was abused by a priest. Why he couldn’t come forward then.
Why it was difficult to come forward 40 years later. It wasn’t the sexual
abuse, as bad as that was. It was the abuse of trust. The conflict set in
motion by that man of the cloth. That man of God! Until I was ready to face
THAT conflict, I couldn’t tell anyone, even myself.
Scott J. Brady
Victim and Survivor of sexual abuse by a priest
If you are a victim and are ready to face the conflicts in your life, there IS help! Contact SNAP (Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests) at www.snapnetwork.org for information about a chapter in your area. In Seattle, contact SNAP at www.snapnorthwest.org/seattle or email at snapseattle@snapnorthwest.org or phone our message line at 425.776.0602 Know that you are NOT alone anymore!