Electronic Journal of Human Sexuality, Volume 1, August 27, 1998
CHAPTER FOUR
“IN THE BEGINNING…”
I am worth celebrating.
I am worth everything,
I am unique.
In the whole world there is only one me
There is only one person with my talents,
experience and gifts
No one can take my place
God created only one me, precious in His sight.
I have immense potential to love, care,
create, grow and sacrifice
If I believe in myself.
It doesn't matter my age, color, or
whether my parents loved me or not
maybe they wanted to, but couldn't.
Yes, I have made mistakes
I have hurt people,
but I am forgiven.
I am accepted, I am Okay.
I am loved in spite of everything.
So I love myself and nourish the seeds within me.
I celebrate me.
I begin now, I start anew.
I give myself new birth today.
I am me and that is all I need to be.
Now is a new beginning.
A new life, given freely
So I celebrate the miracle
And I celebrate me.
Ruth 1997
This was the poem given to me by Ruth, one of the first women to be interviewed and it reflects the magnitude of perceived change and heroic efforts the women whose stories follow have made, and feeling of accomplishment in the end. The stories that follow are verbatim and have been only slightly edited by myself in very few cases for clarity of sentence structure.
I wrote my prologue prior to the first interview in order to maintain my own truth and to avoid any possible influence by the subsequent stories. It became eerily apparent to me as I sat listening to the women relate their life histories that in several areas we had similar experiences growing up in Catholic homes. I became quite adept at listening for the first clues about problems in their homes as children, because almost universally the initial opening statements when addressing the issue of parents was that they came from good Catholic homes with hard working parents. I remember myself as a child in school; if anyone ever asked about my parents I would always paint a perfect picture of my home life. The line from Disney's “Bambi” comes to mind when Thumper is told “If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.” When questioned a little more closely about their parents later in the interview process, many times statements, tone and demeanor changed. It felt as if, once the women were comfortable, they allowed themselves to elaborate on the deeper memories of childhood. Other times the injustice meted out to them as children was the first thing on their minds and became uppermost in the story.
Ruth, who was the ninth of 10 children, gave the opening poem to me. One brother was a priest and the sister with whom she most closely bonded entered the convent when Ruth was two years old. She stated she was very lonely as a child and felt abandoned when her sister entered. The only photograph her mother put on the mantle of any of her 10 children was the one of her priest son flanked by her two nun daughters. Her father was alcoholic and, according to Ruth, her mother hated sex. She told me she was in her early 50s before she ever addressed or spoke about sexual issues and abuses which occurred early in her childhood. She said
The sexual repression didn't come from nowhere, and it didn't
just
come from the convent. When I was four I was abused by
an uncle of
mine. I repressed it until a few years ago. I found
out later that he
did the same to my other two sisters, and this was never talked
about.
One sister is seven years older, and the other is 14 years older
than I.
Ruth went on to tell me that when she was in eighth grade a janitor at her school grabbed her and french kissed her. She said, “It scared the shit out of me. Those things made it a no, no and kind of reinforced, I believe, that going into the convent was the safest place to be.”
Out of 29 interviews, six women did not recall issues of sexual or psychological abuse in their childhood. (One of the six, in retrospect saw her parents’ obsessive religious behavior as psychologically harmful.) Two felt they suffered cruelty from their mothers upon leaving religious life. Three had experienced incest, one at the hands of her brothers and their friends, two by fathers. Two were raped, the first by a friend of the father, and the second by a paid assailant at the behest of the mother, who had physically and mentally abused her severely throughout her childhood. A grandfather sexually traumatized one, two were sexually molested by uncles, one of these was also abused by an ex-priest and further psychologically and physically traumatized by the mother. A further 13 considered that they had suffered some varying levels of psychological abuse as children, seven of those had alcoholic fathers. This was a significant discovery and with the benefit of hindsight shows a gap in my research that did not address issues of abuse and alcoholism in the family of origin. After the third interview if the subject was not addressed or I felt the issue was being avoided, I added questions on this topic. My questionnaire lacked any direct reference to incest, sexual or psychological abuse.
The Chibnall et al (1997) study is the first empirical research on the issue of sexual abuse among religious women [nuns] but did not assess childhood psychological trauma. Their overall findings showed two out of five (40%) of the respondents had reported some type of sexual trauma in their lifetime. About 19% of the nuns in their study reported sexual abuse in childhood; 13% reported sexual exploitation; and 9% reported sexual harassment. A further 11% of respondents reported sexual harassment within community. The Chibnall et al. report states that their findings were generally consistent with scientific literature on sexual abuse of children. “The percentage of Sisters reporting sexual abuse was clearly at odds with any argument that religious life has served as a particular haven for women who have been sexually abused. If that argument were true, one would expect that religious women would report much higher rates of sexual abuse than women in general. In fact, the best available estimates suggest that 25 - 30% of women in general report sexual abuse in childhood” (p.4). In the current study statistics based on the informants above found 27.5% had suffered sexual abuse as children. This number concurs with the general public according to Chibnall et al. but is considerably higher than their findings for religious women. The sample in this study was too small to draw any significant conclusions. However, in this group, escaping from sexual trauma into a safe place was a statement often made.
Further information from Chibnall et al. (1997) states the average age for disclosure of sexual abuse was 54 years. In a newsletter entitled “Breaking Open the Silence - Healing the Woundedness” distributed by the Sisters of Charity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Wilson (1995) found the average years of silence after sexual assault was 33 to 47. As previously noted, Ruth told me she was in her early 50s when she first talked about the incidents from her childhood.
In this study, 10 out the total 29 women interviewed were from Irish Catholic homes, two were from Italian backgrounds, two were French and one had a Latino family. The remainder considered themselves American with no strong ethnic influences. Alcoholism was reported in eight specified Irish homes and in a further five non Irish families. The mothers in these homes were either strictly disciplinarian, passive aggressive or extremely passive to the point of being described by the women as “beaten” physically or mentally, by their husbands. In these families conflicted by religion and alcohol, the mothers often seem to take refuge in religion and the children along with them.
It seems appropriate in this first chapter of stories to address why these women chose the route that lead them into religious life. As their memories unfolded the decision to go to the convent was made quite early in life, at grade school age in most cases, and was very closely connected to their home life issues.
For example, Wendy was the second daughter of a family where the mother was Italian Catholic and the maternal grandparents were very close. Her father was not Catholic but was described by her as “a very good man, despite his lack of religion.” He demonstrated patience, whereas her mother was the more volatile. Although Wendy does not explain how she knew it, she said.
My parents slept naked, I always liked that
about my parents who were otherwise
quite modest. The bathroom door was
always closed when you were using it, we
always got dressed in private, I don't remember
there being a great sense of shame
about it. I think I only saw my father
naked once and that was when I was a very
little girl. I woke up in the middle
of the night and was sleep-walking in the living room.
My father heard the noise and came out and
I remember seeing his family
jewels right at eye level, and thinking, oh
it looks just like grapes. It was so
beautiful and round. I don't remember
my parents being very demonstrative with
each other and yet they were very loving and
cuddling with my younger brother
and sisters, lots of tickling and stroking
and hugging. I watched how they were
with them and I'm sure that's how they were
with me. I like my body, I liked
being tickled, I have a nice friendly relationship
with it.
Wendy told me she had thought of entering the convent from her middle years of high school but her elder sister went in a year ahead of her. This made her reconsider the decision. However she said
I'm pretty sure the reason I entered was because
it was
counter cultural, you know it was the 70s,
the days of cults and
communes and flower power. This was
a socially acceptable way to be in
a commune and get a chance to do something
different from your peers in
terms of going to college. I definitely
entered for the community, not
in terms of some personal relationship with
God, which is something I
was pretty sure I didn't have, although I
knew it was something I was
supposed to have, so I tried to be as authentic
as possible. My sister
entered the same order a year earlier than
me and she's still in the
convent, I think she truly does have some
relationship with God as
difficult as it is.
Elizabeth said her father was a bright, brilliant man who couldn't show his feelings. Her mother was outgoing, very sexy, it was “okay” for her mother to be sexy but not “okay” for the children. She told me, “I was aware that babies came from Mom and Dad, Mom let me touch her tummy when she was pregnant.” Elizabeth was three years old at this time. There were seven children in the family. She never remembered being given any negative messages regarding sexuality during her childhood and the only related situation she could recall was the following,
When I was seven I was in a grove of trees
with my sister and
brothers when a group of adolescents asked
us to take down our panties
if they took off their pants. I remember
peeking through my fingers at
them but didn't take mine off. What I remember
is my father was so
angry, my sister ran home to get my father.
The next day we saw one of
the boys in the grocery store and I whispered
to my father, that's one
of the boys who took their pants down. My
father was so angry at that
little boy. I never quite knew what it was
about, but that was my first
memory. Of course growing up Catholic we had
all the teaching of the
catechism; it was so rigid, so that would
color everything. We all went
to Catholic schools, through high school.
It was an all girls high school.
I had wanted to become a nun ever since first
grade. Now I believe
in past lives and I've done it so often in
the past it was deep in my
psyche. The convent I entered was in the grounds
of my high school. I
was pretty wild in high school, so they kept
back my acceptance letter
three weeks longer than the others and I was
told by the Superior
General of the Community that she had watched
me every day coming down
the hill. I didn't do anything wrong I was
just loud and had fun, I
enjoyed life. She said to me, “Now you're
not going to boarding school
and you can't be like you were when you enter,
you have to leave all
that behind.”
Both of Caroline's parents were first generation Italian American Catholics. She was the eldest of six children. Her memories of childhood are vivid
I think what formed me most was being the oldest
girl in an
Italian American family where the boy child
is the most prized first
one. I know I felt it all my life and
dealt with it in therapy but
never really knew it was real. It honestly
didn't hit me until a
nephew was born 21 years ago, that would make
me 30 years old at the
time. I was standing in the kitchen
and my father was on the phone, he
was talking to somebody about his son who
had just had his first born.
His words were “Yes he's healthy, he's doing
fine and you know my son,
he's always had great luck, his first born
was a boy.” That made it
real, it was like being socked in the stomach.
I know the history of
my sexuality, and who I am, was formed a lot
on that relationship with
my father, always trying to be the boy for
him. I was always trying to
be something for him. I couldn't have put
that into words. I look back
now and I was trying to be that first born
boy. I remember when I was
young always being by his side and learning
how to use tools, how to go
fishing. When I was young my father
used to take back packing trips up
into the Sierras on horseback. I used
to watch him prepare and pack
all of his camp stuff and I really wanted
to go with him some day. I
said, “Dad, when can I go?” And he'd
say “When you're older.” “Well
how old do I have to be?” “You have
to be 14.” During the course of
therapy, I realized that trip never came true.
I never went
backpacking with my father. I remember
writing about it in tears that
it was the cross over when I became a girl
when I started to develop a
girl's body my relationship with my father
grew further and further
apart. I made the connection that I
couldn't go on that backpacking
trip because I was a girl.
This reluctance to be female was so pervasive for Caroline that she told me her breasts did not develop. She felt that it was “mind over matter.” She had willed her body to remain masculine. Her story continued
Going back in time a bit I remember having
no information about
sex or how babies were made, despite the fact
that I was the oldest of
six children and there was always someone
pregnant around [her parents
ran a shelter for pregnant teens]. My
understanding was that Mommy and
Daddy prayed really hard and then you got
a baby. All through Catholic
education was learning how terrible boys were,
I went through coed
elementary and all girls high school.
All of the messages about sex
were bad, evil, and negative. I had
no information. Throughout high
school there was no necking, no petting, I
didn't have a boyfriend to
do that with and good girls didn't do that
anyway. I was student body
President and I was a good girl. Congruent
with that from an early age
I knew I wanted to be a nun.
I interviewed Lua Xochitl [self named meaning Wild Flower Moon] in the garden of her home on a beautiful sunny day in the summer of 1997. She was a born story-teller and the four hours I spent listening to her life history was a tremendous experience for me.
I am the daughter of a woman who was Irish,
Apache, born in New
Mexico and my father who was Mexican.
He came to New Mexico and met my
mother. Their first child died of hunger.
My elder sister was born
then and my parents moved to Los Angeles where
I was born the youngest
of five children. My mother passed away
when I was six months old, she
was 29 years old. My grandmother passed away
the same year three months
earlier. My oldest sister was nine years old
when my mother died so she
lost her childhood because she had to be mother
to four siblings, me
being an infant. She became a nun and
was one for 24 years. I came
from a very poor family, and I think what
happened to my mother is, she
saw herself with five children and said, “I
can't do this anymore” and
left. It's never been very popular to
be of mixed blood in this
society and I think she lived through a very
hostile time. I was born
into a Mexican, Catholic family, which is
like the Irish catholic;
double shit on your back. Now I understand
how enmeshed the Church is
in Ireland, now I understand why it's taken
me so long to shed all that
shit. My father re-married, I was six
years old and they went on to
have five more children. I got lost
in the mix, so I think I can say
to you, I pretty much raised myself.
All that, I think, affected how I
related to myself and my own body and my deservedness
or my
non-deservedness. So I was raised a
good Catholic girl. Being raised
in the Church and the youngest and losing
our mother, I was inculcated
with a great deal of fear to do with sex and
men and the world. The
Church and priests and nuns were a sanctuary
for me to escape into in
my head. I wasn't surprising
to me in my senior year to say to my
Dad that I was entering the convent.
Also I have an aunt and an older
sister who entered the same order. But
as far as I was concerned at
the time I was making a very independent decision,
which is not really
true as you look back at the layers in your
life. I entered
essentially to escape. The strongest
force in my life was my father, he
was a very political figure. As I grew
up I looked more and more like
my mother so he distanced me I think.
He felt a lot of pain and guilt
for my mother's death. He lived with
the fact that he hadn't been able
to provide for her as well as do his work
for his people; my father was
a man who worked for the Latinos. He
was very strict. I had two older
sisters but they never went out on a date.
He didn't have to say
anything we just knew we couldn't cause him
any worry, that he had
enough worry just trying to support us.
I think it's one of the
hardest burdens to put on kids, to make them
responsible for raising
themselves. So naturally that curtailed
any necessary wildness that
has to happen in your teenage youth.
It curtailed any kind of
self absorption that needs to happen at that
time so you're not doing
it at 40 and 50 years old. My pleasure
as a kid came from being in
school and being away from the house.
Hazel, a gently spoken homemaker addresses the family dynamic issues fairly representative of those women who came from an Irish Catholic background.
I am the third of four children. There
was a troubling aspect to
my growing up. Much as I knew I was loved,
my father was an alcoholic,
and, as the third in the family I was the
youngest for a number of
years. I've tried to figure out what
was going on in those years with
a father who was alcoholic. I see in
some ways I was conflicted by
it. I thought I was responsible.
I thought I could do something about
the trauma that he was responsible for, but
I never could; obviously
there was no way that I could have.
I can't help but think that it
affected me, perhaps even my thought to enter
the religious life. I
don't know if there is an answer, but I do
hold the question in my
heart. Was that part of my reason for
seeking the religious life? Mom
was a staunch Catholic and Daddy would go
to Church Christmas, Easter
that sort of thing. He would make fun
of her, she was the object of
ridicule for him. In a number of ways she
was a battered wife. We go
back and revisit our childhood when someone
close to us is experiencing
a similar thing. It was as an adult
that I realized this about my
parents. It was a typical, if there is such
a thing, alcoholic
household. The silence that engulfed us about
this behavior I think
influenced me in a number of ways such as
sexuality. I wouldn't talk
about it, because that was how we handled
serious matters in our
family. Looking back, my sister and
I marvel at the fact that no one
talked about the chaos that this was causing
in our family. Now I find
freedom in being able to talk about things
that as a child I wouldn't
even think about discussing. Some of
it was my mom. She was not born
in Ireland but the Irish, and I don't mean
to stereotype people, but
there is a cultural characteristic; perhaps
with that generation
especially, even using the word pregnant was
not said. I chuckle at the
verbal gymnastics that went on rather than
name reality, which I know
influenced my appreciation of sexuality.
My father was more married to
his job than to his wife, their relationship
was more like an armed
camp. That had a powerful influence on me.
When I got married I
decided I would not fight because I'd seen
how destructive that was
between my Mom and Dad. Well that was
not the answer either; the
pendulum had swung the other way as we have
come to realize. To squash
feelings is not the answer. When I look back
on my family, I loved my
Mom and Dad dearly, but I couldn't go to them
with things that were
troubling me. Especially as a teenager
when so much of our personality
is starting to come forth and you're not quite
sure how to deal with
it. For example, I saw the word rape
in the newspaper and asked my Mom
what the word meant, she couldn't answer.
Right away I thought, oh,
you don't talk about those things. It's
obvious what happened as a
result of that; if I can't talk about that,
there's a lot of things I
can't talk about and I didn't quite know what
to do with all of those
questions. One of the dimensions of
that is a continuing sense of
responsibility for people and issues in my
life, a feeling of always
having to fix things for everybody.
I think it had its genesis in
those early years when I couldn't talk about
those issues and felt
responsible in some ways. My father
was a binge drinker. He would
start to drink as soon as he came home on
Friday afternoon. He would
quickly become inebriated and would stay like
that for the rest of the
weekend. Monday morning he would get
up and go to work. He became
less violent over the years but more emotionally
battering, first to
Mom and then to the rest of us. And
yet there were such
contradictions. My Dad sensed that my
older sister and brother had a
bond of high school kids and my younger brother
had a lot of attention
because he was a little guy. My
Dad said to me something about
whenever you're feeling sad or alone I'll
give you the signal. The
signal was that he'd put his finger beside
his nose and that would show
me that he knew how I felt. Isn't that
such a contradiction? It's
enough to make a young person wonder what
the hell's going on here?
How can he be so sensitive to my needs and
be so abusive first to my
Mom and then to us. I wouldn't know
how he would be to us. It was
always that on-edge experience.
I used to do a lot of baby-sitting.
I remember the house I lived
in was high on a hill and I would wait at
the dining room window for my
ride to pick me up to go baby sit, usually
the father of the house.
Dad would storm through and be angry at me
for something, because he
was drunk and I was just a focus. Mom
would probably be in Church. He
would call me lots of names, “you whore” or
whatever. Again I'd wonder
now what did I do? I'm waiting here
to go baby sitting, a sense of not
knowing what was going to happen brings the
tears to my eyes even now.
I can say from the position of safety, I loved
you Daddy. Yesterday
would have been his birthday. Sexuality
was just not a part of my
life. I think if I was really honest
with myself, I just wonder if I
just plain didn't think about it, in light
of my style that I had
learned early on; well you just blow that
off and you don't think about
it. I don't remember talking to my sister
or anyone about sex. It just
didn't matter. Entering the convent,
although I did long for it,
offered my Dad an opportunity for ridicule.
He just made more fun. I
look back on that with affection. One of the
things I learned from
that, I would let him go so far and then I'd
say, “that's enough,” and
he knew when I set the limits, whereas Clare
[her sister] would let him
go beyond her limits. This is an example
of what he would do. My
sister and I had both gone back home. She
was working on her Masters. I
was waiting to enter the convent. Daddy
would grab Clare and try to feel
her breasts. He tried that on me once
and I said “you're not trying
that again” and he never did. Clare never
set boundaries and that was
her right but I thought I'm not going to let
him man handle me. I
think that served me well.
When I asked if this kind of behavior was common in her teenage years she answered in the affirmative and said it had the affect on her sexuality of putting it into neutral.
It was in neutral, it wasn't disgusting,
it was just-I don't want to talk about that.
Which I guess is in keeping with that mindset.
Whatever is painful, deep,
challenging, difficult, except for certain
academic areas where I felt quite
comfortable about probing and going further,
it's just some areas that I would say
no, I don't need to talk about that.
However, [There was a significant pause here
and a rueful laugh] I think--I know, there's
a very high cost we pay for that
thinking, and I think I began to pay that
price in the convent.
This was an extremely important area of Hazel's story, one that will be enlarged and expanded upon when we follow her life into the convent. As her interview progressed, Hazel discovered areas of her own life story that previously she had never given thought or shape to. The fact that she remarked on her mother probably being in Church whilst her father was attempting to molest her and accomplishing it with her sister, was an interesting observation.
Kate's story varied somewhat in that, although she was from an Irish Catholic family her father was the peacemaker. Her mother was the disciplinarian who laid down the rules although Kate said, she wasn't very strict.
We would go to our Dad to try and change the
rules, and he'd try.
They weren't very together in bringing us
up. My Dad was very generous
and very sweet, very loving. He was
also an alcoholic and a compulsive
gambler. That was really scary for me
because I was the oldest. I
became the gatekeeper in my family and would
try and protect the
younger children. I would answer the
door or the telephone because I'd
want to know if he was slurring his words.
My Mom would be very upset
because he'd be drinking and I would try and
keep the little ones out
of the way. I don't think their marriage
was very happy, mostly
because of his drinking and gambling.
I realize now that I grew up in
a pretty sexually repressed family, not just
my own family but my
extended family also. I think the Irish
in general have very repressed
feelings as well as talking about sexuality.
Many of my cousins never
married or married very late in life some
in their 40s. Many of them
never had children. Sex also was an
unspoken topic; I remember when I
was very young I saw some caterpillars mating
and I thought that it was
bad and dirty. Somewhere I got messages
that it was bad, but I don't
know how because I don't remember anyone talking
to me about sexual
things. When my mother was pregnant
I was six years old, I didn't even
know she was pregnant. She didn't talk
about it, eventually she said
the stork was going to bring a baby and she
had to go to the hospital
to get the baby. I remember being scared
because I thought she might die
or something at the hospital. I had
no idea how she got the baby, I
never noticed her body change or anything.
I didn't have a very good
image of what marriage was. Sometimes
they would kiss when my father
came home from work but they weren't usually
very affectionate at all.
I think my Mom, in her anger at my father,
took her anger out on my
younger brother. She would be really
critical and negative to my next
brother. I have two younger brothers.
He really got a lot of the brunt
of the screaming and yelling and name calling
and now that I'm older I
can see it was probably a lot of her anger
at my father which she
directed at my brother. I think with
all of that, when I entered the
convent I was really trying to escape from
my family. I was always
looking for peace. I remember when I
was a kid in school I would say,
if I could just have some peace. I really
did feel as if God was
calling me to it. I wanted to be really,
really intimate with God, but
looking back on it I see it was a way of not
developing intimacy with
another sexual partner. [This was an
interesting use of the word
“another,” as if Kate was seeing God as her
sexual partner]. I did
always make friends easily, so I think emotional
intimacy was easy for
me. I don't like this about myself now
but at the time I thought
religious life was a higher way of life.
The life I saw in my family I
thought, I don't want this. I'd look
at my aunts and they were married
and had kids and I thought this is so boring.
They were all
housewives, none of them had jobs or careers,
I thought I just can't
stand the idea of being in a house all day
and looking after kids and
cooking. It just seemed like a waste
of a life. At that point I
didn't see a lot of options and religious
life was an option that
allowed me to have a career and do something
bigger for the world and
not just being trapped in a family, which
now I see as being very
dysfunctional.
Several women expressed this same ambivalence about following the life choices of their female family members. The routes open to them were few and limited in scope. Entering the convent led to a much wider choice of career paths and the nuns who taught them were powerful role models as will be illustrated in the stories to follow.
Maria was the second girl in a family of five girls and one boy. Her story opened with the statement that they were a strong Catholic family, all were daily communicants. All the children had gone to Catholic boarding schools. As her story progressed she was somewhat conflicted by a considerable amount of, what she considered, inappropriate behavior from her father. She also had issues only recently resolved with her mother. She said
We were from a very religious family, daily
communicants. I'm not
sure if everyone has a similar experience
as mine. I think in your
family there's always an elder who gives you
permission around
sexuality, especially who gives you permission
to be who you are; I
feel like my Dad did that in a lot of ways.
He, from the very
beginning said anything that you want to accomplish,
you can, any
field, you can do anything. There was
also a playfulness he had and
now today, when I read about a lot of these
abuse things, talk about
tickling as a part of power and abuse; he
tickled us a lot. I think
that was where maybe some of us got some arousal
or had some connection
with him. But to my knowledge, none
of us were abused, physically. I
think a lot of us were abused emotionally
or psychologically. Because
along with this kind of strict attitude he
had, and fun attitude, and
from my point of view gave me permission to
be a sexual human being, he
also had that side that I thought was abusive
because he was a heavy
drinker. He was also a very fearful person.
My Mom was pretty closed
down emotionally. Over the years I've
satisfied the need to get rid of
some of the anger about her not teaching me
how to be a full human
woman. So the two of them were very
difficult for me as a young person
to kind of put together. He was strict
and we were afraid of him, but
he was the one who was fun loving and would
go to the beach and stuff
like that, so there's a push-pull there. Of
course sexuality was not
mentioned or talked about. Unless if I go
back to when my Dad took my
sister and me and told us the whole facts
of life. He told us we could
ask any questions we liked, and that was when
we were in fourth or
fifth grade. I'm not sure how this plays out
in my relationships with
my husband or with other men. One time
I was sent home from school
because my sweater was too tight, according
to one of the nuns. I said
to my mom, “Sister Mary wants me to tell you
I need another sweater.”
She said “I don't know, ask your Dad,” and
so I went in. I was a
sophomore, and I said, Dad, what do you think
of the sweater? And he
said “I like it, I like it.” So there
was some times like that, when
he would be permission giving, but certainly
there was rigidity around
sexuality with boy friends. Although
my older sister and I double
dated a lot and I necked and stuff but never
petted. One boy went to
touch my breasts and I twisted his arm so
hard he had a cast on it for
weeks. I don't think any of us screwed
around because there was such
terror around how that would fit with my family,
with my Dad.
Maria received a lot of attention and generosity from her godparents. Her godmother said, in response to Maria's news that she was entering the convent that she felt she was doing it to get away from her Dad and his drinking.
I was very angry when she said that, but over
the years I came to realize it was a
promise I'd made at one point, if I go to
the convent, just stop my Dad from
drinking. I think before I left for the convent
I had started to sever the relationship
with my Dad and Mom, I went at 16 and stayed for
19 years.
Miriam, a bright-eyed Irish descendant told me
I grew up in an Irish Catholic, no talk family.
As far as there
being such a thing as sexuality, we had no
awareness of it. We were a
family that dated and usually married the
person. I went into the
convent to escape a very dysfunctional family.
Her father was alcoholic and her mother was a strict disciplinarian. Another similar story came from Helen who said
I was born into an Irish Catholic
family with a drunken father.
My Mom and Dad had to get married.
She was pregnant with me before the
wedding and my Dad always thought
it would happen to me too. I was
determined it wouldn't. I wanted
to do something really special with my
life. In the eighth grade I loved
the Sisters and decided then to go to
the convent. It meant I
didn't do much with the boys because I knew I
was going to the convent.
June had an Irish father of another temperament. She describes her childhood relationship as having an “Oedipal thing” for her father
He was a wonderful father for me. He
was handsome and very
masculine. The kind of the quiet Irish
man in the John Wayne sense.
He was not overly demonstrative but he had
ways of letting you know he
approved of who I was. Ways of saying
boy you look nice, ways of a
smile, running around opening doors for me
when I was a young, young
child. That's why I say I can recognize
at least from that a lot of
the oedipal thing. I'm sure there are
times when I would have gladly
shoved Mom out and taken over. I think
the most tragic thing for me
was that he seemed to have changed when I
got back from the convent.
He seemed to have lost his sense of humor
and his lust for life and I
blamed myself. I think later in life
as I talked with my Mom after we
became friends I realized it was really between
the two of them, but at
the time I thought it was my fault that I'd
killed Daddy when I left
home, he wasn't very happy about it.
If I see my Mom through my own
eyes only and shut out my brothers and sisters,
I see someone who I
always tried to measure up to. Somebody
who was always physically, so
it seemed, more adept than I am. There
were long, long times that I
sought her approval in a lot of ways.
I remember that after I was
married and had quite a family, I had never
been able to do anything
for her of any value. My grandmother
died and my mother called me and
asked if I'd go over and help her clean up
before my aunt came out for
the funeral. I cried and she said “what
in heaven is the matter?” I
said that is the first time you ever asked
me to do anything. It was
overwhelming that she actually needed me for
something. She was the
dominant one, her mask was there wasn't anything
she couldn't do. Yet
she was full of fears with things that shook
her to her roots. She was
so insecure that she would never go outside
her family circle. In
general I had a good home life, they took
good care of us. We all felt
loved but once we grew a little they kept
us at arm's length so a
little more physical love would have been
good.
June entered the convent at 16 years old after the family of the young man she had been dating insisted upon their separation. She entered more or less on the rebound from this unhappy experience, although I understood that she had intended to enter prior to meeting the young man.
The common themes beginning to run through the stories are silence around sexuality, alcoholism, lack of affection among the parents and continuing this attitude in their interaction with their children. There are common traits in the discipline they experienced and a feeling that the convent was an escape from this dysfunction. Another very frequent theme which evolved, was the neglect the women experienced from their mothers. Some were emotionally absent, some extremely abusive. There was a continuum of behaviors in between. Some of these themes are illustrated in this short dialogue from Alison who said
I don't think my parents had a good relationship.
When I look back on it now,
my father drank a lot, and I remember being
very surprised when my mother was
pregnant. My mother and father slept
in twin beds, I don't ever remember seeing
them in bed together. In my teens I
don't remember my father and mother being
especially affectionate, yet my mother was
very affectionate to me but my father
was not. He didn't show his affection,
he was a man's man. I didn't know my
father very well. He had high expectations
of everyone but particularly of me.
It set sister against sister.
Going to the convent was a way to escape what my family
was; it was always my refuge. We were
asked many a time and told the convent's
not an escape hatch for you. If you're
not happy someplace else you're probably
not going to be happy in the convent.
I would have denied that then but I think
I've come to the point where I'd acknowledge
that now. But I probably did enter
religious life to escape, and I don't know
what I was trying to escape. I think I felt
that I couldn't make it in college or whatever.
I was never the brightest kid,
maybe I thought I wouldn't be successful and
I thought I would have some
semblance of success in my life by entering.
Parental control of sexuality was maintained in a variety of ways. Sophia's story has similarities with others as she spoke of the control over her sexuality by her father
I'm the oldest of three, I have two younger
brothers. Father was
extremely strict, I guess I knew I dared not
be sexual. I went to
Catholic girl's boarding school and when I
went to college I was very
close to the nuns. When I lived at home
I had to be in at a certain
time and he always checked what I wore before
I went out. My mother
was very passive, now she's still very passive,
he's a very old man but
he still rules the roost, and very, very,
Catholic. When I left the
convent I wanted to do something completely
off the wall, I went to
work on a cruise ship. My father was
not a happy camper, not with me
living that kind of life. He thought
I was a harlot. I wasn't. I still
wasn't. He was afraid I was going to
be sexually active and I wasn't.
When I finished University, I dated but I
still wasn't sexually
active. My sexuality just went away.
A friend I'm dating now says,
“you were hiding behind things for years weren't
you?” I have to say,
my father would become upset and angry and
so we learned not to get him
upset. He's not a drinker, I know from
talking to his doctor now he
says he's a classic alcoholic, but no, he
never drank. He's a control
freak, if he didn't get his way he would yell
and so we learned to get
around it. We got the message you'd
better keep yourself good. I went
out on a date and my mother bought me a dress
and I had to go home and
bend over for him to see whether or not I
was showing anything. He
thought it was too revealing so I had to go
back and have the lady at
the store fix something so that it would cover
me up. It never
occurred to me or my Mom that there was something
wrong with him, he
was really controlling
Intuitively I felt Sophia had experienced physical as well as emotional abuse at the hands of her father and I asked if she experienced physical violence at his hands? She responded
Oh yes, but he stopped when I wouldn't cry.
I just decided I don't need to
cry if you're going to hit me and I
didn't do it. He got frustrated and just left the room.
He said to my mother “What are we going to
do with that girl?” But he never did it again.
When I entered the convent he was very happy,
I think he had a big problem with sex.
Sexuality was not a reason for going in, it
was a blessed event.
Abuse on this level was quite common amongst the interviewees. The extreme was demonstrated in three interviews where I would assess the damage to have had life long traumatic effects on the women. Incest, psychological and sexual abuses are very common issues uncovered in therapy when dealing with a religious client pool (anecdotal accounts from therapists in California and Washington State). Although this area was not initially anticipated in my research, sufficient cases surfaced during my interviews to warrant mention here. Anecdotal evidence from professionals dealing with these people together with the previously mentioned empirical research by Chibnall et al. (1997), and evidence given by Sipe (1996), points to a high incidence rate of abuses both in priest's and nun's childhood. To quote one therapist from a major in-patient treatment center, “A fair proportion, if not everyone, in the program had been abused. Some women would go into religious life to avoid sexuality and they always tripped up, they ended up in therapy.” Josephine said in her interview, “Virtually everyone I knew in the convent was in therapy.” I asked for clarification, “everyone?” “Yes, I didn't have a friend who wasn't in therapy for years.” When questioned on her thoughts as to the main reason these nuns sought therapy, she answered
Family of origin issues. I think a lot
of people were doing
repair work in therapy, that was at the heart
of it. A lot of women
used the therapist as an intimate relationship
to have a place to go,
to talk about what you're thinking and feeling
and what's important to
you, in place of a spiritual director.
What's important about that is
that people were very reflective, very aware
and working on themselves
all the time. Who is your therapist?
was the question, not if you're
doing it. They're [communities] spending
hundreds of thousands of
dollars on therapy.
Doehring (1993) in the publication of her dissertation entitled, Internal Desecration: Traumatization and Representations of God, indicates that the God representations of those women in her study who had alcoholic parents were different from those who did not have such experiences growing up. The child with the alcoholic parent had a decrease in experiencing God as loving and a clear increased experience of God as absent or wrathful. Doehring further found that women who had been severely traumatized in their childhood most often experienced the wrathful absent God. In the case of the severely traumatized childhoods such as Ursula, Kathleen and Marian, their God representations in adulthood are gentle and loving, suggesting they have made some recovery from their earlier experiences. Ursula however recalled a time at age 27 when she had her first lesbian sexual experience; at this time she felt alienated from God. Flaherty (1992) in her book Woman Why Do You Weep?, examines how woman who were victimized as children relate to God. She asks, “Does God become a part of the problem? Is this God just another figure of male domination? How does one learn intimacy again when intimacy has been violated?” She writes
Fear also becomes an issue in our relating
to God. Fear of
judgment, fear of God's abandonment.
Having internalized much of the
responsibility for what happened to us as
children, we believe we are
to blame. These feelings of responsibility
spill over into our other
relationships, and so we project that God
will judge us as well. As
survivors of abuse our self-esteem has been
affected, which also
encourages our feelings of worthlessness and
self blame.
Ione feels growing up in strict, sexually repressive homes and in a wider sense in a church which does not deal with the topic of sexuality in a pastoral way, adds a great burden of fear that God will also abandon them. This was a feeling expressed by the following women in their heart wrenching stories.
Kathleen was born out of wedlock. She thinks in retrospect that her mother had been raped by her own father and this was the reason for the terrible abuse she suffered at the hands of her mother.
As far back as I can remember, I was my mother's
black sheep. I
don't know who my father is, I heard stories
about it being my
grandfather, to this day I don't know who
he is. I was raised with a
stepfather but he couldn't be close to me
because I was not his child
and my mother would always tell him to mind
his own business if he
tried to come to my defense. She would
never call me by my name, she
would always call me by a curse name; even
outside when she would call
all of us children in at night, she would
call them all by name and
then say “And you, you----get inside.”
Every day she looked at me, she
had to recall something bad that had happened
to her. It's a hard
thing as a child not knowing why you're not
loved, what you did wrong.
I had very, very low self-esteem, craving
love. It's the biggest sin
any parent can do to their kids, to deny them
that. Craving love and
looking for attention, and not being able
to get it, especially from
your mother; you knew to keep away.
I didn't like women too much, I
had seven sisters. The one that was
born after me was mother's
favorite and she hated me, so in the beginning
I didn't like women. I
couldn't go to my stepfather for attention
because I didn't want him to
get in trouble. What my mother did was
drink a lot. They both were
alcoholics. They went out a lot and
used to leave drunken men taking
care of us. One was a merchant marine and
he would start messing with
me when I was nine years old. Someone
who had just got out of jail for
being a child molester came to baby sit because
she wanted to go out.
He was getting ready to molest me but a cop
that lived in our building
found out about this and stopped it, so I
was nearly raped at nine.
Well finally her dream came true and I got
raped at the age of 15,
raped real bad, I couldn't walk for two weeks.
He was drunk and my
mother had been paid for him to do it.
I found this out years later,
so she had me raped and it was terrible, terrible.
I hated men more
than I hated women. I hated everybody.
I was kind of saying I don't
deserve this but I felt I must have done something
terrible so I did
deserve it. An older woman who had two
daughters studying to be nurses
saw me and was very kind to me. One
day she asked me if I was feeling
all right because I looked so ill. I
told her I didn't feel well, I
didn't even know I was pregnant, I didn't
know what was wrong. She
helped me and told me where to go and it was
the Children's Aid
Society, to go there and tell them I'm Catholic
and they'll put me in a
place and I'll get help. I did and they
took care of me until I had
the baby. My mother was still cruel
even then, she came to the
hospital, she was pregnant herself with her
10th child, and screamed
and yelled at me and called me a little witch.
The hardest thing I
ever did was to sign the papers to give the
baby up for adoption; but
if I loved the child I had to die to myself,
to give him up. I didn't
want him to go through what I'd gone through.
I wanted to keep him
because I wanted something to love because
I'd never known love, but I
didn't want to be selfish, I didn't want to
hate him later, which I was
told was a possibility. Every time my
mother looked at me she
remembered what had happened to her.
The nun who helped me was so
loving and accepting, I knew she was holy,
just to be near her I felt
special. I guess it was the only time
I got any kind of attention.
They took me out of this Sister's group and
moved me to another, they
had different nuns in charge of each group,
and I felt like I didn't
want to live. I cried, I couldn't eat,
I can hardly talk about it
without crying now. I felt nobody can
love me, I was so unlovable that
they took me away and I couldn't figure it
out. I was so confused, but
then I said I will do anything, I will become
a nun, anything that I
can be near her, anything so that she would
like me. So I joined up there.
Kathleen told me that there were two “levels” of nuns in the order she joined. One was for girls such as herself and was called “The Magdalene's”.
A story of similar intensity to Kathleen's was Ursula's. The agonies suffered by these women at the hands of those who should have loved and protected them was very difficult for me to listen to. That they should be as emotionally strong and able to share their stories with me in such a trusting open fashion filled me with an even deeper respect. Ursula was French. Some of the transcription may appear to be incorrect English. However, I have attempted to keep her own words as closely as possible for authenticity. At the time of the interview she was 75 years old. Before we began the interview she prayed before a small altar in her home, to be as honest and helpful to my study as she could be. The story of her childhood follows:
I came from a broken dysfunctional childhood.
There were four of us children,
two brothers and a younger sister. There
were daily wars of religion in our home
because my father was a Protestant and my
mother a Catholic. My father never
forgave my mother for having changed her mind
to bring up the children Protestant.
She tore up the piece of paper when she had
the first child, and she
was in such agony the first son died after
a few months. The second child died at
birth then came me, then my sister and then
twin boys. My mother was extremely
religious but despotic, and I believe that
my mother was either sexually abused in
her childhood or was a true victim of a very
narrow and despotic up bringing in an
orphanage with nuns, medieval type nuns, this
was some hundred years ago.
Sadly this kind of treatment was not just a historical speculation. In my own story I spoke of the life my mother must have experienced in her orphanage in early 20th Century Ireland. The evidence of such severe monastic practices was the subject of a recent documentary in Southern Ireland called “Dear Daughter” (Lownstein, 1996). The film was based on the true story of a young girl growing up in an orphanage in Dublin in the 1950’s. It details the atrocities she and other girls faced at the hands of Sister Xavieria and her “regime of nuns” the Sisters of Mercy. Some of the abuses that the Sisters inflicted on the children included ritual beating with chair legs and rosary beads. These revelations have caused the reopening of a 40 year old case involving the death of an 11 month baby. The result of this documentary was the subject of an article in the National Catholic Reporter (1996). This reported an apology for the alleged abuses from the Sisters of Mercy in Ireland, and the establishment of a hot-line to provide support for former orphans who still may be traumatized by their experience. “By mid March, the help line was said to have received calls from more than 600 people.” Sister Xavieria alternatively named “Sister Severia” was accused of beating children so severely that they needed medical attention. She allegedly threw boiling water over another child. The subjects in this documentary talk of mental illness and stories of profound cruelty defying reason. Forty years later these Irish women re-lived the horror of their lives with the Sisters.
In contrast the respondents in my study virtually all speak of their dealings with nuns in glowing terms. Thankfully, none have experienced any of the atrocities experienced by the former generation of children who grew up to perpetrate such damage on their own children.
Ursula continued her story with further reflections from her childhood and information about her mother
My mother never talked about it, [her experiences
in the convent]
but she was a very bitter woman, her solace
was strict religion. This
was quite a bad atmosphere. Sex; we
did not speak of sex. Priests,
nuns, nobody dared say the word sex.
This was the period of my
upbringing. Now I'm 75, when I was 60
I went through a biofeedback
process and just to tell you how traumatized
I was about sexuality, the
counselor who was doing the biofeedback named
a few words and suddenly
she said sex. The machine jumped including
myself, and so I became
aware of how painful sexuality was in my life,
how twisted, what
twisted thinking and feeling I had about it.
Even at 60 years old I
still believed that intercourse is dirty and
even as I speak now I can
still feel something dirty about intercourse.
I shall go back to my childhood. I was
raised in a very strict
milieu, on top of this my mother abused me
emotionally. Because she was
very unhappy, and I was very willing and out
of nature very tender and
affectionate, and I always mean well.
I may be very wrong sometimes
but I always mean well. After the second sexual
abuse, which my mother
witnessed at 13, every day she called me dirt
of a pig or dirt of an
animal, every day until I was 20, practically
every day. This created a
tremendous fear in myself and a kind of self
hatred, a disgust with
myself. When I was 30 I really thought
that I stank, I couldn't see
myself, I was ashamed of my hands, my feet,
my nose, because I was
constantly criticized by my mother. When I
was 10 years old I was
molested by my uncle, my mother's brother.
I was not aware that it
would mark me and my sexuality; I didn't know,
I was too innocent. He
molested me for about three weeks, and because
it was my mother's
brother I couldn't say anything to her or
to my father, I couldn't tell
anyone; I was too ashamed. I know I
was so ashamed I wanted to die.
At 13 a similar thing happened in the school
with a priest, and the
horrible thing that happened I really wanted
to die then. When I was in
his arms being submitted to this horrible
happening, he was molesting
me but I thought it was horrible, I wanted
to die on the spot. That
man kept me prisoner there for hours and so
my mother came to the
school and found me there. My mother
had already had no affection for
me; I was always the black sheep. When
she saw this she practically
broke the door, tore me away from the man,
screamed at him and going
home screaming, pulling me by the hand and
kept telling me I was a pig,
I was the worst pig in the world and I should
be ashamed of myself.
Then she imprisoned me in the kitchen, she
told me I had to go to
confession and that I was going to hell and
all that I knew was I
wanted to die. My mother called me daily,
dirt of a pig, or dirt of a
beast. I suffered so much that by the
time I was twenty when she said
it to me one more time I screamed, and 55
years later I still can feel
in my whole being the scream which started
from the bottom of my inner,
inner self, it welled up and I screamed. Probably
the whole
neighborhood must have heard. I said to her,
that's it, I cannot kneel
before you and beg forgiveness every day,
I had been doing it for five
or six years.
This background plus being brought up in a private Catholic school Ursula claims was the reason for her always connecting sexuality with fear and guilt. “Sex, you just wouldn't speak of sex and to my mother of course it was absolutely taboo.” Ursula responded to one of the questions regarding Catholic education affecting your sexuality negatively or positively, she said
I should circle this one with red blood.
Ah boy! And so many are still twisted
because of that stinky education, I still
feel the anger! When I got my period I was 13.
I was petrified of my mother, I was even afraid
to ask my mother anything.
So I was bleeding, I didn't know where the
blood was coming from, I
had no idea of my anatomy. I told my
mother that I was bleeding, once more she
found a good occasion to beat me and scream
at me to lock me in my room and
say “you hypocrite, you know damn well what
this is,” I'd known nothing. At
13 I believed this was another mark on me,
instead of my mother explaining
to me what was happening she beat me and I
was sobbing like a fool, this was also
after the second incident, the second molestation.
She locked me in my bedroom
with the shutters locked, I hated that room.
It marked me so much that every time
I had my period, (I stopped having them when
I was 52), every time I went
through a crisis of despair. I was ashamed
anyway; my mother had a regimen of
fear and of shame.
I asked Ursula why her father had not interceded for her against her mother's abuses, she avoided telling me why she thought he did not defend her in her young years and instead answered
I had a very tender affection for my father,
and when I was 15 or
16 I didn't pass the official exam in France
and my father rejected me
and put me in the same boat as my sister who
spent her whole time
flirting and got pregnant at 15. My
mother had always hated me, now my
father rejected me. I wanted to go to
the monastery at 20, but my
father said for a Protestant this was not
normal, so he made me go to
the city. I know he meant me to meet
a man and get married. He told
me if I still wanted to go to the monastery
after one year then I
could. After one year he denied saying
that and would not give me a
dowry, also the war was on and the Carmelite
monastery I wanted to join
had its Mother House in Italy and we couldn't
cross the border, so I
gave up the thought of it for many years.
Ursula said her experience of God throughout her life was “like a rope leading up to the hands of Jesus.” She was “always loved and lovable to God.” However when at the age of 26 she had her first sexual relationship with a woman she felt she had lost God's love that she was truly “dirt of a pig,” as her mother had accused her. All through her life she has never stopped attending mass and the Sacraments.
Ione's was also an Irish Catholic family, with several very specific differences.
It's kind of weird, because the only way religion
came into our
home was that we had to go to Catholic schools.
My Mom tried to get us
to go to Mass on Sundays but my parents didn't
participate. I'm the
most religious of the bunch, I'm the only
one still connected to the
Church. I was sexually abused by my
father. My Dad is mentally ill,
he's now institutionalized. As a child
I was pretty close to my Dad
which was opposed to my mother. I never
felt very close to my mother,
so I was very close to my Dad and then when
I was about in third grade
he started shutting down emotionally.
He was pretty much unavailable
because of his depression and his diagnosis
of schizophrenia. When I
was in the convent he would call me up and
make inappropriate comments
to me so I had to stop them and I haven't
seen him in eight years. My
mother was an alcoholic when I was growing
up, those years were very
chaotic. I think the abuse started pretty
early and stopped when I was
about ten. I don't really know when
it started but it went on a long
time, it was just sealed off. My mother
even asked me once when I was
in college if my father had ever touched me
inappropriately and I said
“no.” She had noticed that my father
and I had a very close
relationship, that my father spent a lot of
time with me. Because of
the abuse my sexual life was pretty shut down,
the memories were really
repressed and I didn't remember about it until
about two months in the
convent. I was on retreat and the memories
started to come up when I was
praying. After the retreat I just slammed
the door but about six
months later they started to come up again
and it was awful, I thought
I was losing my mind, I had two years of intensive
therapy. I had a
teacher who was a nun in the eighth grade,
she became very much the
parental figure for me all the way through
college. I started to
admire the Sisters and found them strong women
and having a strong
sense of self, doing more than housework that
was the experience of the
women in my neighborhood. I think my
interest in God and the spiritual
life probably started in the sixth or seventh
grade. I found going to
Mass really comforting because my home life
certainly wasn't. I would
help this Sister with class work and stuff
and through her, I met other
nuns. I don't think I was in love with
her or anything; it was more an
emotional attachment on a motherly basis.
I would go to her with my
problems and she would take the time to help
me with them. An interest
in the spiritual life developed as I went
through high school, also
because it was a community of women I think
unconsciously I was
attracted to having relationships with women.
Therapists have asked
me. I think it's complex. Maybe
I went into the convent because of a
fear of sex, I think it was also because it
was a women's environment.
They were different from any women I'd ever
met and then also the
interest in the spiritual life also attracted
me. Some of the most
amazing women I've ever met I met in the convent.
Women of vision
working for justice, who will go into Africa,
into El Salvador, or
Peru, with all the violence. The most
courageous females I've ever met
were nuns. I think if my only reason
for going in was sexual I
wouldn't continue a relationship with them
now. I continue to be
interested in the spiritual life. I'm
a very liberal Catholic, but I
would say my interest in the spiritual life
continues.
I met Ann at a political meeting of sex workers in a large city. When I mentioned my study subject she very kindly offered to participate. Her story was particularly different from all of the others because of the conflicts and contrasts in her life. Her “innocent” opening gambit belies the staggering amount of trauma that befell her in her young life, she said,
I was just your basic little Catholic girl,
Irish Catholic. We all
went to the little neighborhood Catholic school.
I was quite religious
when I was a kid. Part of it was because
being religious was
associated with school and I loved school.
Everything was religion. I
didn't go to Church until I went to grade
school. My mother was
religious and always went to Church.
She was more pious than devoted.
My father was not religious at all.
They both grew up in the same
neighborhood. My father's families weren't
very Catholic whereas my
mother's family were very devoted. My
grandparents had eight children,
four of the girls became nuns and one of the
boys was a priest. I was
the only one in my family to go to the convent.
I grew up in a very
abusive home, probably why I loved school
so much was because it got me
out of there. There was emotional, physical
and sexual abuse the whole
thing. Emotional and physical by my
mother, everything by my father.
She was probably more emotionally abusive
than he was. It was so bad
apparently our parish priest had told my mother
she should get a
divorce. Now in ‘53 a Catholic priest
did not say things like that.
They stayed together and ended up having seven
children. I was the
oldest girl and to my knowledge the only one
my father abused. My
mother had to know about it, but to this day
she doesn't admit anything
could have happened. The abuse started
when I was very young and it
lasted until--well I got pregnant when I was
15 and she arranged the
abortion, but she will deny it. The
two of them would beat me up so
often I have permanent hearing loss. She also
denies that I have
hearing aids. As he got more violent
with my mother she became more
violent with me because I think her whole
thing was to blame me, so of
course I'm the target, I'm sleeping with her
husband. You know it was
a really sick view. Even as an old lady
when I confronted her recently
and told her what happened, she absolutely
denied it could have
happened. Because, she said, she didn't
leave us alone with him long
enough for it to happen; not that he was incapable
of doing such a
thing, only that she didn't leave us alone
long enough for it to
happen. What kind of response is that
from a mother? The only time my
mother even semi approved of me was when I
went to the convent. I
remember one time he was so drunk and really
violent I took all the
other kids upstairs to my grandparents and
called the cops. All the
cops did was take him to the firehouse where
he worked to sober up. In
a way it was good, if they'd taken him to
the jail he could have lost
his job. That was the time I was pregnant
[by the father]. That was a
strange year. At that time there were
very few child protection laws.
They may have done something about the incest,
but the abuse, there
weren't that many laws against that.
I remember Mom talking about
getting a divorce and preparing us older kids
to go to court. It was
all around, him hitting her, hitting her was
grounds for divorce,
hitting us wasn't grounds for anything. We
were his children he was
allowed to discipline us. She ended
up not divorcing and taking him
back. That was the most dangerous part
of my mother, she knew the man
was a maniac but you know, he'd be in an okay
mood, so it was okay if
he was disciplining us, because he'd be okay
with her that day. We had
a very weird childhood. I told one of
the nuns at school that my
father was touching me, she called my mother
and my mother told her I
was crazy. They wanted me to see a therapist
because I was so
unhappy. It was right after the abortion,
even after that my mother
ignored it. After the abortion-- now
consciously if you'd asked me I
wouldn't have said I'd had an abortion, I
didn't know the word, my
mother was allowing my father to come back
into the house. He'd been
gone for five or six months and I was outraged
at her for letting him
back. So I really thought if I could
be a prostitute and make a lot of
money I could take my sisters and get out
of here, at least the little
ones, because I didn't want to leave them.
So I started hooking at
night. I'd go out and do a baby sitting
job at night and then turn a
few tricks and then go home. I did it
for six to eight months and then
got busted. The cop who arrested me
took me down to jail and I wouldn't
tell them my name and kept insisting that
I was 18, now I looked
like a little boy, in fact I sometimes dressed
up like a little boy and
do gay men. After he caught me I had
to sit in the jail all night
because I wouldn't identify myself.
They brought in cops from the
district and one of them knew me. He
was supposed to take me to the
juvenile facility and on the way he pulled
over. I, of course, thought
he wanted a blow job, but he said “I know
your family and you shouldn't
be doing this.” He took me home and
let me go. I stopped doing it
after that, I was too afraid of being caught
again. If they caught me
again they wouldn't be so lenient with me;
also if my parents had got a
call from the cops saying I was a prostitute
they would have seriously,
seriously injured me between the two of them.
I wondered what had given Ann the idea of being a nun? She said
Senior year in high school we had to go on
retreat and this was
very down to earth. I got to talk to
the priests about what I really
thought and they were cool with it.
I thought, I'm having my religious
experience and I thought I'm not an atheist
anymore, I decided to be a
nun later. By that time I'd already
been a prostitute, and given it up.
I asked Ann, how did she make the transition between being a prostitute to being a nun? Did she understand the vow of chastity that she would be expected to follow? She responded,
Yes, oh yes. It was just sort of right
it made sense to me. It
allows you to be less encumbered, therefore
you could do more work for
society if you're not tied down to one person
and have all the
emotional investment. Part of it was
that I was so attracted to
liberation theology and the radical work of
the Church in those days,
because a few years later I went back to hooking.
Part of it was that
I always thought people were so hypocritical
about sex. It didn't make
sense to me. I wasn't sexual when I
was in the convent except for
auto-sexuality. It didn't seem important
one way or another. I went
to a Catholic high school and was about to
graduate in 1968 and decided
to be a nun. My real thing was that
I was a real little radical and I
thought I could make the revolution through
the Church. Some of the
nuns were in the forefront of change.
It was the order of nuns who
were quite politically radical, they tended
to end up radicalizing a
lot of their young nuns because that's who
they sent down to their
missions in Latin America. It was a
weird time to get involved in the
convent because so many people were leaving.
Margaret's story was different from most of the others in that she was the victim of incest. The perpetrators in this case were her older brothers and friends of theirs. She said,
We had six kids in our family, the first four
were only two years
apart and then the last two were five years
and five years so the last
two weren't as close a part of the family
as the first four. We were a
middle class family, my Dad had a good job,
my Mom stayed home but she
was sick a lot, which is probably why the
incest thing was allowed to
go on. That was with my two older brothers.
My oldest brother was
eight years older than me, and then my next
brother was only two years
older than me. The older brother had
a lot of power in that family
because my Dad was gone to work and if my
Mom didn't feel well it was
“listen to your brother and do what he says.”
I never really figured
why this started with him except it may have
been the kid down the street
who was a few years older than him who wanted
to do this, and I was
a good target. I was about four. Some
therapists say they think I was
younger than that, but I think it was around
that time. So he started
that and he showed my younger brother and
he showed his friend up the
street who told another friend so at one time
there could have been
five different guys who wanted to do this
at any one time, until I was
about 12. This was intercourse, oral sex whatever
they wanted, the whole
thing. My older brother was mostly into intercourse,
the boy around the
corner liked oral sex a lot, but he also liked
intercourse. Sex was
wrong, it was dirty, we just didn't talk about
sex. I think I was
around seven before my older brother said
“well don't you know that's
where kids come from, that they [the parents]
did that.” I was angry
that he should say my parents did that, that
they would do something
bad, because to me it was just bad.
So I never felt good about it.
You know at school when the other kids would
talk about it, I would
just pretend I didn't know anything.
I thought if I said anything
they'd know I know too much. We moved
house when I was 10 years old so
that cut out all of those kids but my brothers
still wanted to do it.
Then my older brother moved on but my younger
brother and I still
continued. I'm not sure it wasn't because
we were just so used to it,
it didn't seem that awful any more.
Then we just seem to grow out of
it. With my older brother it never felt
like it ended, like if he came
back at any time, even though I'd say no,
it felt like I should still
do it and he'd want it. I remember when
I was 15 or 16 years old
saying out loud, “I am never going to let
any guy, ever, do that to me
again, it's never going to happen again.”
I mean I just hated it, the
whole idea of it was just disgusting.
I liked boys, I wanted to be
around them, we had a great time in high school,
but I would never date
anybody unless there were at least 10 of us,
we were just having fun.
I went to a convent High school and met my
algebra teacher who was this
wonderful person who made it all look like
a wonderful place to be. So
I went with the idea that now I could be a
good person; plus I think at
the back of my mind I went with the feeling,
I don't even want to deal
with the sexual thing. I can get away
from it I don't have to think
about it.
As I continue Margaret's story in subsequent chapters, the childhood trauma she suffered will be re-visited.
Josephine was from a prominent family in their Catholic diocese. She at first portrayed them to be a perfect family. Later she told me how unhappy she was due to the frequent moves her family made because of her father's job. She felt emotionally isolated because she saw her parents as lacking in affection toward her, and due to the loneliness of her life she ate to compensate and thus developed a bad body image. It was almost at the conclusion of my interview with Josephine that she quietly said to me
This seems quite important to me. When
I was four or five, my
mother's father molested me. There were
two or three incidences of
fondling, making me touch him. I worked
on it at various times, but I
don't think it's had an enormous impact on
my life. I told my mother.
She stopped it. I always knew.
I never repressed it. I rarely said
anything but if anyone ever asked I could
remember.
This experience was to impact her life in the future when she had a meeting with a priest whom she described as extremely sexist, having worked with him for five years. She was about to leave the parish to attend graduate school but was called to this man's office. He was “a divide and conquer type of boss” whom she claims
Evoked the penises, right up to the Pope.
He said, “I'm
responsible to the Archbishop and the Archbishop's
responsible to the
Cardinal and the Cardinal's responsible to
the Pope.” I had this image
of all these penises wearing their various
hats, up to the Pope with
his miter.
Basically Josephine with her feminist issues did not fit into this man's ideal view of what a nun should be thinking and let her know it. The effect of this story on Josephine was that she was very upset by the priest's pressure upon her and the day after began to have flashbacks of the molestation by her grandfather. These lasted for three days. She had never had flashbacks of this in the preceding years.
I couldn't figure it out why I was having these
flashbacks and
then I finally put it together, that this
had been experienced as a
sexual assault. It was evoking a prior
sexual assault, it was clear
then that this was like a rape. That
my beliefs about women and the
sexism in the Church was so challenged by
the way he did this that I
felt it like that and it triggered a similar
experience.
Chibnall et al. (1997) estimate 9% of religious women report sexual harassment in the work place, mostly by priests.
The concluding story in this chapter was in many ways a most inspiring one. It was narrated by a courageous woman named Marian who spoke to me in the terminal stage of leukemia. Her story was all the more profound for being told in the final chapter of her life
I grew up in a family that's nominally Catholic,
of a Catholic
culture. I'm first generation Italian
and Portuguese. I had a
grandmother who was very Catholic, but my
parents were Christmas,
Easter church goers. My father was a
night club owner and my mother
was really more his mistress than his wife.
There was 21 years
difference in their age. He had had
an unsuccessful marriage because a
child had died of syphilis, and my father,
being a traditional Italian
man, believed the problem was his and it was
not. So before my father
was willing to marry again, it was important
for him to know that the
woman would bear him children; so my mother
was pregnant before they
married and I think they had a marriage of
convenience. She was from a
poor family, very bright but poor and he was
a moneyed man, with, I
found out after he died, some Mafia connections.
I was 14 when he
died. I grew up in that milieu.
The home I grew up in was purchased
when I was ten. It had a fully stocked
bar, it was like a nightclub
with a lot of exit doors. They had a
lot of gambling there, as is not
untypical of this kind of a family.
Part of why I paint this picture
is, I had an older sister, 16 months older
than myself and my mother
really didn't like children. She just wanted
this ticket into being
with this man, so we, as really small children,
maybe three or four
years old, spent a lot of time in nightclubs,
a real inappropriate way
to raise children. Naturally there was
a lot of drinking going on.
When I look back, it was almost like we were
little prostitutes in that
men gave us a lot of money and there was inappropriate
behavior. When
I look back I remember one particular overt
experience when a man was
actually molesting my sister and I came in
to kind of save her. I also
remember a sexual experience of my own when
I was quite young. My
mother would have us go to the show [at the
nightclub] on Saturdays
unchaperoned. I was sitting next to
a man, then again I was young,
maybe sixish; he exposed himself and ejaculated
and put it all over me,
over my hands and that sort of thing.
It just wasn't a healthy
environment. There was a large party where
my father, I believe, rented
a resort. We were the only kids. There
was a band and lots of drinking
and partying and dancing. I remember
the dress my mother had bought
me, which had eyelets, it was just a see through
top and a non see-
through bottom. I was very developed at 12.
One of our friends brought
this man as a date. He was very old
to me at that time, and I danced
with him all night. I felt like kids
do somewhat, that I was coming on
to him, but he had a hard on most of the night
when we were dancing.
My sister and I were in a room together downstairs
and didn't know
where the adults were. This man came in at
night and said if I didn't
come with him he would hurt my sister, and
the hurt I got was a real
physical kind of hurting her. So I left
with him. There was this
beautiful beach and he rapes me in the garbage
part where the garbage
cans are. I blanked a lot of that for
a long time but there is one
sexual position I've not been really prone
to and that is the puppy dog
position. I realize that's part of what
happened there. When I started
uncovering it and when people would share
with me any kind of sexual
trauma or even profound physical trauma, I
started hurting in the back
of my legs. That memory would block out and
come and go depending on
where I was. I don't know quite how
much went on sexually as I grew
up, but way too much. That is a backdrop
to my growing up. I am
conscious of twice saving my sister at my
own expense. When I was 13, I
had my first consensual sexual experience.
I was fairly wild, hanging
around with motorcycle guys and that sort
of thing. We had a situation
where there was an adult movie on TV.
Now we're talking about 1950-51,
so I don't know what an adult movie would
have meant in that period.
Three couples were there and my sister was
allowed to watch it because
she was 16 months older than I. That
left me as a fully developed
young girl with a 14 year old and a 15 year
old boy in a huge house to
hide in, left to our own designs. We
could out do any adult movie, it
was my first sexual experience and it ends
up being a menage-a-trois.
It involved everything except genital intercourse,
I mean finger
fucking the whole bit. At some point
my father came back and found us,
I know I came out of the room and I have a
scar here [pointing to her
face] where he actually hit me and his ring
caught my face. We had
done the horrible thing. So then news
spread, you can get what you
want from Marian, so that was very difficult.
I was also very sexual,
very aware of my sexuality. I'll tell
you one thing that was very
sexual, being raised Catholic we get all those
stories about the martyrs
and whipping and all that. There was
a little place in our house that
we would climb up to that nobody would ever
find us. My father had a
whip and we wouldn't actually hurt each other
but we would do all sorts
of S-M kind of things and really enjoy it
and getting all the
permission psychologically from saying “well
we're just playing
saints.” That was a little wild.
So by 13 I was pretty well fully
sexual; luckily I never got pregnant.
I had a traumatic experience
with my father's death; this plays in heavily.
I really loved my Dad,
we were really good buddies and he was incredibly
generous, he was
primarily a man of the earth. In many
ways I was his son and we would
cut trees and go fishing, and I knew he really
loved me. He didn't
like my mother or my sister, we'll leave love
out of it, he didn't like
them as people, and I picked that up, their
values were so different.
My mother was quite a hypochondriac, but at
14 I couldn't differentiate
between what was real and what was not.
She had had a surgery that she
led me to believe was very serious; later
I learned it wasn't serious
at all. My mother and father fought
horrendously, and she told me that
if he wasn't good to her that she'd have to
go away and be in a
sanitarium. So I'm facing the abandonment
of my mother and so at that
time I decided I wouldn't show anger.
I did all this repression as a
child, around family, always. My Dad had just
built a summer home. It
was a way for him to get away. So this
was our first time up there.
He brought my mother a tray at breakfast and
they fought which was not
untypical. He came out of their room--I
have this vision really
clearly of him, wearing a white T-shirt and
dark pants, and here is the
person who is so significant to me--and I
said, “I wish you were the
one that was dying.” And the next day
he had a heart attack and I
watched it and he died in two weeks.
I know for a long time I believed
I was guilty of causing it. But I think
what I did believe was that if
I loved someone, most particularly a man,
I could kill them if I got
angry. Before my Dad died he made my
Mom promise to send us to
Catholic school for the education, and I was
pissed because all my gang
was certainly not going to Catholic school.
I had no way out of it. I
remember in my freshman year I ran for student
president as a lark and
I won it. I turned my life around.
I went out a lot. Five boys asked
me to marry them my senior year. I knew
that wasn't the route to go
and I still had that lingering feeling of
if I get too close I'm going
to kill them. That was more of a pervasive
thing and probably why I
went out with so many guys. The choice of
going in the convent was a
really good one, in the whole spectrum of
things, very wise. I was 18
when I entered and I stayed in for 13 years.
I needed to get out of
the house. I think my mother was very
jealous of me which was an
interesting phenomenon because I was always
heavy which just drove her
crazy. Her belief was that I couldn't
be successful or happy and be
heavy. I ended up the most successful
in terms of personal
satisfaction than anyone in my family.
But she said if I ran for and
got student body president she wouldn't pay
for me to go to college,
and there's tons of money. I spent a
lot of my life saying I'll show
you, so I ran and won, and she refused to
pay for me to go. I didn't
have the humility to say I have no money and
apply for scholarships, so
I know part of my reason for going to the
convent was to get the
education.
Ritter and O’Neill (1996) in their book Righteous Religion. Unmasking the Illusions of Fundamentalism and Authoritarian Catholicism, refer to family of origin of clergy. However, I feel for many of the women in this study a similarity will be immediately apparent. Ritter and O’Neill write,
Individuals who are drawn toward ministry in
righteous
authoritarian religions are most often those
who are compensating for
low self-esteem. As mentioned previously,
many were reared in homes
where they felt uncertain about their worth
and lovability. Thus such
individuals gravitated toward the clerical
state wherein they could
enjoy the prestige and importance that automatically
come with the role
of minister or priest, [or in this case the
role of the nun].
In conclusion, the themes emerging from the narratives up to this point are, silence, fear, guilt and shame around sexual issues. A variety of parental sexual and physical abuses, perceived emotional neglect, particularly by the mother, accompanied by the need for the women to “gloss over” these areas in some cases. Alcoholism, where present, was usually apparent in the father but occasionally in both parents.