I was baptised a Catholic as a baby. I took my Holy Communion at 10 and started reading bible passages at Mass. I became an altar server at 11 and was Confirmed at 15. Pretty much as Catholic as they come.
As I grew older I started questioning some of the Catholic beliefs. No female priests, no sex outside of marriage, no contraception. There was a lot I didn’t agree with. But the community, and the idea there was someone looking out for me, meant I returned every Sunday.
That was until I told my priest I had been raped.
I was 17. I’d spent a bit of time in hospital with both the mental and physical injuries from my traumas. My mum had contacted the church and asked if my priest could visit me once I had got home to perform the Anointing of the Sick.
I was discharged, and a few days later Father came to visit. We sat in the living room together with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits. He asked why I’d been poorly and what had been wrong. I paused for what felt like a very long time, deciding what to say. I felt safe with my priest so I decided to be honest. I told him quickly what happened to me when I was 14. I used the “sentence”; a quick and rehearsed way of telling someone about being raped, avoiding any awkward detail or emotion.
Then my childhood priest who I’d known all my life, who I looked up to and respected, told me I needed to ask God for forgiveness for being raped. He told me I must have wanted it and that it’s a sin to want sexual attention from a man. He said I must have led James* on. He implied that James was incapable of raping me if I had acted ‘morally’. Instead of administering the Anointing of the Sick, he started to take me through the Sacrament of Reconciliation (confession).
One of the first people I confided in didn’t just diminish my pain, but blamed me for it.
I started doubting myself. Did I not fight James enough? Didn’t I say no enough times? Those times later on when I’d stopped saying “no” because I was afraid he would hurt me more, were they my fault?
No. 14 years later I know categorically I wasn’t to blame. I was a 14 year old child who was targeted, groomed, and violently abused by an adult.
But, back then, I didn’t believe that it wasn’t my fault. It’s not that I felt blameworthy, I just felt that being abused was my purpose. It felt inevitable. I was timid and lacked self worth. I didn’t have the confidence to confront my Priest. And so, when he said it was my fault, I just nodded and began to confess.
“Bless me Father for I have sinned.”
*In order to maintain their anonymity some names and identifying details have been changed.