My Two Fathers: a catholic Tale of Trauma

Trigger warnings: rape, beatings, jail, prisoner, Catholic, priest, family.
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The adjective catholic (with a lower-case c) means: universal, comprehensive, widely shared.  Something that's catholic is bigger than you might think.  

I need to set down my own catholic experience. You might not know anybody affected by the Catholic systemic child-rape scandal. Maybe you do know a victim and you just aren't aware of it yet. I'm one of them.

I volunteered to became an altar boy because on school-day funerals, you got out of class and sometimes you got $5. It seemed like a good deal. My dad recommended it. The old GI rubric holds true: Never Volunteer.

From September 1965 to June 1968 - Fourth through Sixth grades - I was repeatedly raped by a parish priest. It happened in the rectory on Monday afternoons, and on overnight trips to a vacation home his family provided. I was 8, 9, and 10 years old.

To belabor the point in a vulgar manner, he was in my ass and in my mouth for three years.  Major portions of my existence are fucked up because of it. 

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Ordinarily I would never tell my father (a cop) about a problem but I told my dad about the priest early on. I needed grown-up help. My dad did not believe me and tried hard to get me to recant. He seriously beat me (which was a thing he did) and I wouldn't give in. He said, you think you're tough? We'll see.

That weekend we went to the police station where he worked. He had arranged for an empty cellblock, no prisoners. He put me into a cell. He said, we'll see how tough you are. He shut the cell, locked it; he walked out and closed the cellblock door behind himself.

Everything you've read about the sound of a closing jail cell being the loudest sound in the world is an understatement. It was an earthquake rattling my skeleton. There was a single bunk, a thick board on a hinge and chained to the wall. It had a thousand profanities scratched into it. There was a coarse wool blanket. There were cockroaches.

I don't know how it is for anybody else.  Being locked alone in that cell is one of the essential, core experiences of my life.  I had made a terrible mistake by telling my dad. He betrayed me.

Now I was in a cage like the animals at the zoo. They talk about humans responding to threats with "fight or flight" but neither was an option. My universe was about 6x9 feet.

I was probably only alone for as much time as it took him to have a smoke and a coffee. He came back into the cellblock and looked at me through the closed cell bars. I told him, I'm not taking it back. He opened the cell and led me out. We never spoke of it again.

In less than ten minutes, I was profoundly and forever changed. Ever since I have a visceral dread of "getting into trouble" because for me, being in trouble means the cell is a possible outcome. In some ways, I'm still in that cell.

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Between the priest and my dad, the floor had dropped out from under me. It was terrifying that my world could change so fast. Certainty was lost. Safety was an illusion. Grownups were threats.  The rest of my life is a footnote to being raped and being locked up. 

The priest continued at me. My dad had a fave phrase he'd continually impress upon the kids: "suffer in silence", and that's just what I did. I would never rock this boat again.

When Seventh grade began I expected to be summoned but the priest never sent for me. I asked another kid who was involved, what was going on? He said, he's got some new fourth graders. I had mixed feelings. I was both glad and jilted. Replaced by a younger kid.

They're both dead now, the priest and my dad. They live on inside my head. I really try to stay out of trouble and to be a good boy. I am so fucked up.

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• This is not about gay priests. This is about pedophile rapists in positions of authority
• The church must release all documents including the 'unsubstantiated' events
• Promote nuns into parish management positions with full authority
• Make Women priests now
• Pay men and women clergy living wages rather than off-budget 'fringe benefits'
• Release all legacy settlements from non-disclosure agreements; let the stories flow
• The Pope saying he's on the victim's side is onanistic rhetoric without action

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When I read about the kids separated from their parents at the Mexican border, I think about eight year old me, sitting in that jail cell, terrified. If you think that what happened to me in 1965 is wrong, then if follows that what we're doing to these kids is wrong in 2018. --  --