I'm Telling

Following a July 2008 telephone confrontation

The Roman Catholic Church insists it is committed to resolving the clergy abuse crisis, but their actions belie their words. Recently I called Monsignor John Hyland, the vicar general of the Diocese of Davenport, to express my concern about a priest who works in that diocese. The conversation ended fairly amicably, although with the usual denial and fact-shifting one comes to expect when dealing with the RCC.

The next conversation, however, did not have a happy ending. I had called on another matter- to ask why the people who ran the retreat for sexual assault survivors held at the American Martyrs Retreat House in Cedar Falls were not informed that at least one person had been sexually assaulted at the retreat house. I didn't feel my question was answered to my satisfaction, but I also didn't feel any animosity until Monsignor Hyland brought up our previous conversation.

He totally reversed the concept of confidentiality, which is supposed to protect victims, by telling me I had to keep the information about the priest quiet. He said the person who had told me about the priest in the first place was angry that I had reported him, and he said, in an intimidating tone, "You could get into alot of trouble."

At which point I fired back. I knew if I let him steamroller me, I would have a hell of a time recovering, so I didn't allow him to verbally beat me up. I told him I didn't give a crap about that, I cared about the boys that could get hurt. I said that is how I got raped, because of the Catholic church's secrecy and their tendency to protect the perp, not the young people.

I ended up hanging up on him, which felt pretty good. But I had a really rough week or so of triggers and flashbacks, brought on by Monsignor Hyland's intimidating tone.

That's why I'm writing this: to honor my inner 20-year-old, that dear young girl who was terrorized, intimidated and raped by a Roman Catholic priest, Father Patrick McElliot. To let her know I now have the ability to protect her. To use the one tool I have, the only one I need: my voice.

I'm not that frightened young girl anymore. I'm all grown up and I'm mad as hell. I'm telling.