The Worthy Adversary

Author: Joelle Casteix

  • The Puppet Show: The Utter Failure of Diocese Lay Review Boards

    Last week in Kansas City-St. Joseph, the diocese lay review board was called to meet by the bishop to “discuss” recent events involving the sexual abuse of children. Too bad the board got wind of things a few years too late.

    For those of you who don’t know, Fr. Sean Ratigan was arrested in late May for possession of hundreds of child sex abuse (child porn) images that he took of parish girls. According to a lawsuit filed last week, he uploaded and distributed those photos on the internet.

    Bishop William Finn found out about the images in November 2010. Instead of calling the police, he made copies of the images (a federal crime, no?) and then gave Ratigan’s computer to Ratigan’s family, who destroyed it.

    The diocese’s own document trail shows that the Bishop Finn was warned about Ratigan’s behavior at least a year ago, and possibly as long ago as 2007.

    So when the Kansas City-St. Joesph diocese lay review board came together to meet just last week, one would think that they would demand some transparency, perhaps even publicly state that Finn be held accountable for his inaction and cover-up. Maybe call on him to turn over all files on Ratigan and other predators in the diocese. They should be angry, right?

    Not so much.

    Instead, the meeting resulted with the removal of a different priest who has been accused of abuse by at least three children and is the subject of a 2010 child sex abuse lawsuit.  This was a priest who should have been removed a long, long time ago. Instead, he was allowed to remain in ministry a year after the lawsuit was filed.

    What’s going on here?

    Bishop Finn’s actions in these cases are akin to calling the fire department well after the house has already burned to the ground. But instead of demanding accountability, Kansas City-St. Joseph’s lay review board accepted an apology, quietly obeyed and thanked the bishop for the courtesy call.

    An anomaly? Hardly. This case is spectacularly indicative of the uselessness and powerlessness of diocesan lay review boards. Acting as a bishop’s puppet show, they give the false air of transparency. Behind the scenes, it’s business as usual: cover-up, complicity and abuse.

    I know this because as a former lay review board member in Orange, California, and a victim of sexual abuse in the Catholic Church, I have seen it all firsthand.

    Not an Isolated Case

    Review boards across the country are coming under increased scrutiny as they are called to review cases well after the public and private damage has occurred, as well as for their refusal to be strong, critical and vocal advocates for the children they claim to serve.

    In Gallup, NM, the board has been dormant for months, perhaps years.  Although The Gallup Independent exposed dozens of secret settlements with victims, no board members have publicly come forward to demand information about abusers, secret files or settlements.

    In Philadelphia, the board was thrown under the bus when a grand jury report found that 37 priests in ministry had allegations of abuse.  The board knew nothing of many of the cases. Instead of demanding fundamental change, board members criticized Rigali, but praised the changes in the Archdiocese since 2005 and have justified their role in preventing abuse.

    In Stockton, California, a judge has found that there is enough evidence for a civil sex abuse trial to proceed against Fr. Michael Kelly this summer. Stockton Bishop Stephen Blaire, however, has said that his review board has determined that Kelly is innocent and the priest remains in ministry.  Wouldn’t any prudent board demand that Kelly be put on administrative leave until the trial was over?

    In Fresno, a priest who was found by a civil jury to have molested a child remains in ministry in a parish.  Bishop John T. Steinbock said that Eric Swearingen is innocent.  Does his board agree? Why hasn’t the board publicly criticized the (recently deceased) bishop for this?

    We will never know.

    How Are These Boards Set Up?

    The Charter for the Protection of Children and Young People – a 2002 “reform” that has shown its flaws repeatedly during the past nine years – has carefully and meticulously ensured that lay review boards remain at the whim of the bishop.

    Review boards are made up of former law enforcement officials, therapists, community members, child advocates and others who really care about the welfare of kids.  Many serving on the boards are mandatory reporters. But as a “consultative board” to the bishop, the bishop may use them at his discretion.  He doesn’t have to give them information. He is not mandated to tell them about allegations. He is not required to turn over secret personnel files. If the board recommends that a priest be removed, the bishop is not required to do so.

    So why have a board at all?

    The answer is simple: to provide a false veneer of legitimacy allowing bishops to continue business as usual.

    But that can change.

    The Fuse Has Been Lit

    It’s only a matter of time before we see more and more cases like Ratigan’s and the Archdiocese of Philadelphia. The failures of the John Jay Report and annual diocesan audits are blatantly clear. The Catholic laity is seeing, yet again, that their children were intentionally put at risk of abuse, while the local lay review board assigned to protect kids remained silent.

    Lay review boards are ineffective as long as their membership refuses to publicly demand transparency. As long as board members sit and wait obediently and silently for their bishop to do the right thing – or assume that they have all of the material necessary to make informed decisions – more children will be put at risk.

    To become effective, the boards must understand their mission. The obligation of the boards is NOT to the bishop. The true obligation of every lay review board is to the CHILDREN of the diocese and the VICTIMS who were so horribly hurt.  Once they actually understand their obligation and responsibility, suddenly, their requirement to speak out becomes painfully apparent.

    I challenge every lay review board member to demand transparency and accountability from their bishop.  I urge them to demand legal documents, depositions, evidence and secret personnel files for EVERY priest in the diocese. I challenge them to become vocal advocates for change.

    Instead of being a liability and a puppet of their bishops, these boards must become proactive advocates for the children they claim to serve.

    Until then, men like Ratigan and the bishops who cover-up for them will continue to destroy our children, just like they have in Kansas City-St. Joseph.

     

  • Why Do We Hate Our Girls?

    I have built up a pretty thick skin towards institutional misogyny. Growing up Catholic, I was carefully conditioned to accept my lot: I could never be an altar boy; girls were seductive; boys were smarter; positions of power were always held by men; Eve’s sin is my burden; my rolled uniform skirt is the reason that girls get raped; eyeliner is Satan’s paint, etc., etc., etc.

    Even when it came to abuse, Catholic teachings forced girls to accept the blame if they were molested. The female victims (especially the young teens) were “fallen women” (Think about it – have you ever heard the term “fallen man?”). Honestly, if I have to hear one more person question my motives about my work or tell me that the only reason I didn’t come forward sooner is because I “led the teacher on” and I “wanted it” … it won’t be pretty.

    Institutional misogyny never surprises me. But what always surprises me is when I hear good, non-institutional people speak the subtle language of hatred towards our girls.

    Want some examples?

    “Girls are mean”

    “Boys are so much easier to raise than girls”

    “Girls lie”

    “She wanted it”

    I’m not saying these things aren’t true in many cases.  What I am saying is that the above statements are equally true for both boys and girls.

    Words Matter

    We are quick to talk about how vicious and catty preteen and teenage girls are. We even see it on television (remember Mean Girls, anyone?).  But when we talk about bullying of boys, many parents see it as a necessary rite of passage. Junior high fights, physical threats, and other mischief are seen as the fault of the boy who is the subject of the violence. He’s told to “man-up.” (Another crappy message, but that’s a whole different topic)

    It’s hard to be a girl. Heck, it’s hard to be a kid. We live in a culture where girls’ idols are overly-thin in a world where our girls are heavier than they have ever been before. Our focus on our bodies is not new. We have played with Barbies since the 1950s. We saw Brooke Shields on billboards and partially nude on film when she was barely 12 years old. Girls saw Barbie and Brooke and wanted to look like them. And when they didn’t, the self-hatred set in. This pattern is nothing new.

    I’m not saying that we should throw away our girls’ dolls or force them to turn off the television and the radio. What I am saying is that it’s difficult enough to be a girl without parents and other adults predetermining how girls will act at a certain age. Or giving girls a message so often that they simply fulfill a prophesy by taking a wayward path paved in words.

    Language is a powerful tool. Children hear what we say and aspire or devolve according to our spoken or implied expectations. Girls who are told that “girls are mean, liars, evil, difficult, slutty and/or worthless” – more often than not – become those very things.

    Institutional misogyny is difficult enough for women, let’s not allow our subtle language to become yet another unnecessary burden for our girls to bear.

     

  • The Orphan

    or: The amazingly well-written, life-changing, relevant, engaging, exciting and immensely readable book proposal that the New York publishing machine determined that no one wanted to read.

    There was a study published recently showing that rejection (romantic or otherwise) causes physical pain. I wholeheartedly agree.

    Why? Last week, after a five-month sales push by my big-time New York literary agent, my nonfiction memoir book proposal was politely rejected by almost every New York/East Coast publishing house.

    “It was an awesome, well, written and exciting proposal,” they said. “She an amazing storyteller,” they said. But … “No one wants to read about the victims.”

    WHAT?! People don’t want to read about the victims? Wait, in the past year, I have read bestselling memoirs about teenage drunks, intensely poor itinerant families where the parents became homeless people, abusive addict parents, lots of dead people, battered wives with mentally ill husbands, and FLDS child brides/escapees.  And my story is the one that no one wants to read about? At least I’m funny.

    The proposal isn’t a story about abuse. It was the story about fighting back and winning. It’s the story that journalists ask me about and write about ALL OF THE TIME. Apparently, someone wants to read what I have to say.

    “But no,” they said. “The proposal is a page turner, but we’re too scared.”  (Okay, maybe they didn’t come out with the “scared” part.  But really, that’s what it is.)

    It’s taken me a week to be able to talk about it without crying.

    I Really, Kinda Sorta Know What I’m Doing

    I am a professional writer. I have written hundreds of essays and op-eds (99% of which were for other people), press releases, fact sheets, marketing pieces, blog posts, newspapers articles, bios, and just about anything else you can imagine. I also have a number of unpublished novels, two of which were professionally agented and shopped around. Neither were published. I won’t even start on what I have re-written or heavily edited for other people.

    My big dream is to be a mainstream published book author. And I never do anything half-assed.

    But for years when someone said, “You should write a memoir about what you are doing now. It is so interesting,” my answer was a solid “no.”  I believed that I’d have no idea where to start. And, quite frankly, I refuse to write a depressing book.

    I kept saying no until last summer. That’s when I finally relented and this story begins.

    I am childhood friends with an awesome woman named Vicky Bruce.  She’s a part of the “Floral Park Mafia,” a group of kids who grew up in north Santa Ana, CA in the 1970s. She’s known me since I was about a year old. And she’s pretty cool.

    She’s written two award-winning books (the latest of which just won the International Book Award) and fills her ample spare time making documentaries.  Good ones. The best part is that she’s a total nut. I love goofy, funny, smart people. Her parents have been my biggest fans.

    Vicky contacted me after following my posts on Facebook and said “You MUST write a book.” And then when she asked why there aren’t any other survivor memoirs published by the big houses, the answers were simple: The stories are tragic; there is seldom, if ever, a happy ending; and the writing is not that great.  It’s rough, sad stuff.

    Mine would be different, she assured me. There is a happy ending. There is intrigue. There is drama. I could talk about my travels to Europe, Alaska, Guam, and … Ohio. I could talk about the fascinating people I’ve met and the tragic stories they shared. I can talk about the documents. I can talk about my time on the lay review board. I can talk about the goofy stuff. I can humanize the crisis and make it accessible to non-Catholics and Catholics alike. I have a sense of humor and a global view, she said. Besides, we realized, church apologists could secretly read it on their Kindle without their bishop finding out. It’s perfect.

    What really convinced me, however, was when she shot an email to her literary agent.  One of the other agents there jumped on the idea. He loved it and said he would represent the book. All he needed to see was my proposal.

    And that’s when I broke out in hives: How the hell do I organize a memoir? Vicky stepped in. We talked and talked and talked. She came up with the direction, and suddenly, the book made sense. I started to write, and she started to edit. She yelled at me when I glossed over memories that were difficult, and gave me electronic high-fives when I wrote honestly. Then she edited some more. And more. And more.

    I also swore her to secrecy. I didn’t want word to get out to my family and friends that I was working on a proposal. I’ve been down this road before, and I didn’t want anyone to know until the proposal sold.

    We hammered out a 130+ page proposal document in about six weeks. We talked about Alaska and Guam, lay review boards and (the Caligula-esque free-for-alls where dress code regulations were simply a cover for the perverse sexscapades of some teachers and administrators at) Mater Dei High School. We talked about my parents, my friends and my son. We talked about Facebook. We talked about my redemption. And you know what, it was good.  It was really, really good. When we handed it to the agent, he loved it.  Then, he started editing. He worked long and hard on it, trusting in us and the proposal. It was going to sell.

    When he was done with his changes, it was an even better work. We talked about the possibility of it going for auction. We talked about meeting with publishers. Not only was it a good story, but I could SELL it.

    Publishers would embrace me, I believed, because I am a shameless self-promoter.  Other writers, filmmakers and documentary producers come to me – all of the time – for help to publicize their works about the crisis (for free) or share my contacts. I was ready to unleash a publicity MACHINE about this book, starting on the date the proposal sold. I was even talking to speakers’ agents and book publicists to augment my own publicity plan. The book buying audience was going to be so sick of hearing about my memoir, they were going to buy a copy just to get me to shut up.

    Then the proposal went out, and we waited. And waited and waited. When the responses came, we were shocked: “It’s wonderful, but …” “I couldn’t put it down, but …” “She’s an amazing storyteller, but …”  When the second round of queries went out, the responses were the same. It was nothing like we had expected.

    Then we got the really bad news: a Pulitzer-prize-winning author just sold his proposal about the stories of the attorneys who have represented victims – the “courtroom drama” a la A Civil Action.

    I do not begrudge the attorneys. These men and women put their reputations, life savings and careers on the line to help victims. Were it not for them, I would not be standing where I am now. They are true heros. I know the book will be interesting reading, written by a great writer. But I also know this: you can’t understand the victims’ movement without hearing from the victims. The fact that the “safe” courtroom drama got the sale and my proposal was treated like a political hot potato is indicative to how victims have been treated by society throughout the crisis.

    Now What?

    And so … My proposal now lives in No Man’s Land. I feel like someone died. Vicky, the agent and I are going to have to sit down and really talk this through.

    I’ve been asked more than once: Why not self-publish? If I were an established author or celebrity, that would be a great option. But it simply won’t work for me. I need something that the survivors’ movement also requires: the stamp of legitimacy that a large publishing house provides. I also need the wider audience and the channel marketing capabilities that a large house gives me. And honestly, this book is too good to get lost.

    We are looking at other options. We can find a new champion for the proposal (maybe a lead editor at Random House is reading this post right now and will email me and ask for the proposal). Perhaps I can publish it as a series of essays in an ebook format. I can sit and wait for the buzz to grow over the other book and hope than an editor out there will be looking for a memoir. I can ask everyone I know to ask everyone they know …

    Maybe I can start a Facebook fan group and get 10,000 people to promise to buy the book in an ebook format for $4.99. Then, perhaps a publisher will realize that people DO want to read my book (and won’t want to stick their head in the oven and turn on the gas when they are done).

    And the book WILL SELL, because no one will work harder, touch more people, do more speaking engagements, contact more media outlets, write more op-eds and get her face out there like I will. I’ve done it before. And I won’t wait until the book is done. In fact, I may just start tomorrow. Because I’m not sad anymore. I’m mad. And a mad Joelle is a very productive Joelle.

    Life is about risks. I’ve taken a million of them. Now, I need someone to take a risk on me.

  • A Parenting Revelation: It’s Time To Stop Punishing Tattletales

    Here’s a parenting question: Do you know what we can do right now to empower our kids, help prevent sexual abuse, hinder bullies, put criminals behind bars and foster corporate and organizational transparency?

    The Answer: We have to stop punishing our tattletales.

    A Little Background

    I spend most of my afternoons watching the neighborhood kids play in the common area of our condominium complex. My son is only four years old, and like most four-year-olds, he shouldn’t be allowed to play in an open area without at least one adult there to supervise him. I don’t manage his play or boss him around – I’m just there to make sure he doesn’t try to teach the cat to ride a skateboard or climb the tree with pencil-thin branches. Basically, my job is to monitor.

    Enter: The Tattletale. Every day, at least once, one of the kids (ages 3-12) comes up to me and tattles on my son or one of the other kids: “He called me a name.” “She won’t share.” “He’s crying.” “They were hitting.” The kids tell me because they need my help to solve a problem. It is my job as a parent and an adult to get to the root of the problem, so the kids get back to the business of playing.

    What makes me different from many other parents?  I refuse to punish the messenger.  I simply can’t shame a child for coming to me and reporting wrongdoing. I thank them for trusting me enough to tell me the truth and reporting bad behavior.

    These kids – the tattlers – aren’t lying. They aren’t “setting up” their peers. They just want to play and they don’t want naughty behavior to ruin it. Kids just want their peers to know that everyone needs to be nice, behave in a positive manner, and cooperate. These kids – the tattlers – are setting the bar, and setting it high. And they are being transparent about it.

    It goes against everything I believe to tell a tattler, “Both of you are in trouble:  Little Johnny for hitting and little Sally for telling.”

    Why?  Because when we punish tattletales, we are teaching our children to turn a blind eye to wrongdoing.  We are teaching them that reporting wrongdoing is just as bad as committing the crime.

    In fact, I don’t call it tattling anymore.  I call it “mandatory reporting.”

    Tattling Isn’t Bad

    I have asked a couple of adults I know why they punish their tattletales.  I make sure to stress that the tattletale is telling the truth and just wants to report behavior that is wrong.  Their response: “Because tattling is wrong.  No one likes a tattletale.”

    So the rationale becomes: if you report wrongdoing, no one will like you.

    Is that what we want our kids to take into adulthood?

    In fact, I know firsthand that the opposite is true.  When my son plays with the local “mandatory reporter,” everyone plays nicely because they know that bad behavior will be punished.  There are no secrets and no ultimatums (“Do as I say or I’ll tell”) because if there is bad behavior, someone is going to tell an adult.  Period.  No bargaining allowed.

    Even better, the mandatory reporter in our neighborhood is spunky, funny, popular and nice.  She’s a good, smart, moral kid who can talk easily to children and adults.  Everyone likes her.  Especially me.

    And I don’t think she should be punished for letting me know that I need to intervene. That’s why I am there.  It’s my job to help the kids.

    Transparency Protects Kids

    For those of you who don’t know me, I am an advocate and activist for adults who were sexually abused as children.  In addition, I help train parents and teachers on recognizing sings of abuse, reporting abuse, and raising empowered children who are less likely to be abused.  I am also a victim of childhood sexual abuse, and I can’t sit idly and let what happened to me happen to another child.  A huge part of my job is telling people that we need to raise our children in a world of no secrets.

    Childhood sexual abuse, bullying, and other crimes that plague our children thrive in secrecy. They thrive in a world where kids are scared to talk to an adult.  They thrive in a world where “tattletales” are punished.  Predators thrive because we were programmed as children to believe that tattling is wrong, even though we don’t rationally know why. The sex abuse crisis in the Catholic Church is a perfect example.

    If we tell our kids not to tattle on their peers, how are they able to differentiate one, two or five years later when they learn that a friend is being sexually abused? Or they see a peer beating up another child? Or they know a child who is responsible for cyber-bullying a classmate? Is that tattling, too? How do they know the difference? It’s simple: They don’t.

    Bullies know that they can threaten kids into silence by saying, “You’ll just get in trouble for telling on me.” Remember, a 13- or 14-year-old does not have adult powers of reason. To a child or teen, “telling on” someone– no matter the crime – is tattling.

    Parents may argue, “Well, my kid knows the difference and would tell me.” But I disagree. If you punish your child for tattling on the 5-year-old neighbor kid who hit his friend, you’ve already laid the groundwork. You’ve told your child that turning a blind eye to wrongdoing is more admirable than transparency.  You’re telling your child that if she reports abuse – whether she was a victim or a witness – she will be punished.

    As a part of my job, I give presentations all over the country about protecting kids. Almost every time, a teen or young adult approaches me and says, “I have friends who were abused, but I couldn’t tell anyone, because I didn’t want to tattle.”

    Think it stops there?  Think again. One of the toughest parts of my job is convincing mandatory reporters that they have to report SUSPECTED abuse. Mandatory reporters stay silent because are afraid that they will get punished or that they may get an innocent person into trouble. What I have to stress is that the system of reporting SUSPECTED abuse understands that it’s just SUSPECTED … and they need to report, even if an investigation proves that their suspicions were wrong. I am lucky to get people to report when they witnessed abuse … or when they discover child abuse images (child porn) … or when a child tells them they are being hurt.

    The ramifications of our reticence to report crimes are widespread. Why do you think we have to have “whistleblower protection” laws to make sure that people who report wrongdoing aren’t subject to retaliation?

    Add to that the myriad of problems in politics, unions, clubs, communities, and other organizations/movements/beliefs.  People witness crimes in these arenas all of the time, yet they are scared to report even if they are victimized or witnessed the crime.  Why?  They grew up being taught that it’s wrong to tattle on their friends.

    If you need anymore proof, look at your saving account or the value of your home.  We ended up with a banking scandal because people believed “it was not my place” to report the crimes of their co-workers.  We ended up with widespread mortgage fraud because thousands of people said nothing because they were taught that silence was more admirable than protecting the innocent.

    It’s really not that much of a stretch.

     

  • The Plague on Both Your Houses, Boehner and Pelosi

    I don’t really like talking politics.  But today, it’s all about politics.

    Roll Call reported last week that Nancy Pelosi and John Boehner had agreed upon a new House Chaplain: a Jesuit priest from the Oregon Province of the Society of Jesus (Oregon Jesuits), Fr. Patrick Conroy. Victims were outraged. Why? In March, the Oregon Jesuits settled more than 500 cases of child sexual abuse for $166 million. In 2007, the same order was forced to pay $50 million to 110 other victims. Most of the victims were Alaska Native children, from poor villages with no running water, no access to support and services, and no escape from predators. In fact, the Oregon Jesuits’ own documents show that they intentionally “dumped” perpetrator priests in these villages where the kids were less likely to report abuse.

    Apparently, it took Boehner and Pelosi some time to catch up on the news. Roll Call reported today that Pelosi is claiming “John didn’t tell me” and Boehner is saying, “But he’s a good guy.”

    Here is where they are BOTH terribly wrong:

    • Pelosi’s people read the papers, the internet and the news feeds. The Jesuit settlement was the top story when it was announced … in MARCH. This is not old news. She just thought that no one would care and that the national media would not catch on.  That’s where she messed up.
    • Boehner made his fatal error by claiming that simply because Fr. Conroy is an Oregon Jesuit, it does not mean that he’s tainted by the scandal. Sure, Fr. Conroy may be a really nice guy. He may not have abused a child, but also he didn’t call the cops when he should have. Here’s another take:  if Fr. Conroy had worked for ACORN, do you think that Mr. Boehner would be so forgiving? Not so much. Yes, ACORN broke the law, but I am pretty sure their employees didn’t molest more than 600 kids and then cover it up.

    What can these two do to make it better? Where do I begin?

    1. They can do what our national politicians have refused to do: Meet with, embrace and speak out for the victims of sexual abuse in the Catholic Church, instead of continuing to meet publicly with the same bishops and cardinals who have covered up abuse,
    2. They can sit down and go through the tens of thousands of pages of documents (examples here or here or here or here or here … I could go on) that prove the abuse and cover-up,
    3. They can look at the numbers and the documents to see how the Catholic Church intentionally dumped criminals in our communities.  Then, Church officials relied on our government social services programs and taxpayer dollars to pay for the care of the victims, while they were busy covering up crimes. You want to talk about “taking advantage of the system?” Then look no further than your local bishop, and
    4. They can rescind the nomination of Fr. Conroy. Immediately.

    Finally, they can see, firsthand, that something needs to be done.

    I think everyone can agree upon that.