Courageous Conversation: Abuse Survivors Discuss the Act of Sharing Their Stories

Awake recently launched the fifth season of its Courageous Conversations series with a panel of victim-survivors who spoke about their experiences of sharing their stories of abuse in the Church.

Speakers Gina Barthel, Wendy Mitch, and Vincent Pérez recounted some of the most helpful and compassionate responses to their stories, as well as a few of the most painful. The panelists described their complex feelings in the aftermath of speaking up and offered advice for audience members who want to do better in accompanying victim-survivors.

A recording of the conversation is available below.

To Be Heard and Supported

Pérez, a retired psychiatrist in Pasadena, California, entered a minor seminary beginning at age 14, where he was abused by a priest who was his mentor and confessor. Several years later the same priest married Pérez and his wife. “It's not like I had ever forgotten any of the occurrences [of abuse], but they were way back in some corner of the back of my mind,” Pérez told the audience.

He was almost 40 when he turned on the evening news after work one day and was confronted with a story about allegations against his abuser. This led him to share his own abuse story with his wife for the very first time. “I was just so, so very blessed, fortunate to have been at home and to have a loving, caring wife who tried to understand, [and] continued to be a source of tremendous support throughout.”

Mitch of Plover, Wisconsin, was abused by a priest at age 17. Like Pérez, she remained silent for a long time; forty years had passed before she disclosed the abuse to her therapist in 2022. A little while later she learned about an initiative through the Wisconsin Attorney General’s office to collect information about sexual abuse committed by faith leaders. She decided to file a report using an online reporting tool, which led to a meeting with a victim advocate at the Department of Justice. “She was phenomenal,” Mitch said. “I felt heard, I felt believed, I felt held, I trusted [her]. And it was after that that I told my husband.” His sorrow about her suffering was moving to Mitch.

“He cried a lot and he stayed next to me that whole … day,” she recounted. “It makes me a little emotional when I think about that.”

Bartell, a hospice nurse who lives in Minnesota, experienced spiritual, emotional and sexual abuse as an adult, committed by a priest she met when she was a novice in a convent. Deeply confused and upset about the nature of their relationship, she went to another priest that she had known and trusted for many years.

“[This trusted priest] was actually the first person that I ever told that I had been abused as a child,” she recounted. “He handled that with such grace that I knew I could go to him. I knew he was a safe person because of my experiences with him. Ultimately, I knew … he was going to tell me the truth, and he would love me no matter what. That was super important to me because I was so terrified.”

She arrived at his door in tears and consumed with anxiety. “He said to me, ‘Gina, whatever it is, we're going to make it right.’ And I'll never forget that moment of [thinking], ‘He's here to help me. He doesn't even know what's going on, but he's going to help me,’” she said. “He received me with a tremendous amount of love and gentleness, and I'm forever grateful for that.”

Responses That Caused Pain

While all three panelists were met with compassion when they told their stories for the first time, each has had painful experiences as well. For example, Mitch described telling a close work colleague about the abuse. He initially responded with support, but later complained that her disclosure created a heavy burden for him when people spoke to him about her abuser, a well-known figure in their community. Later, Mitch said, their relationship deteriorated further when she told him she was thinking of filing a suit against the diocese. The colleague told her that if they were going to remain friends, she could never talk with him about the abuse again.

Barthel described a time she wrote a letter to a bishop telling him about the abuse, not to report her abuser, who was based in another diocese, but with the hope that he would respond pastorally. “All I longed for was for him to say that I wasn't going to go to hell,” she said. “What I got was a voicemail from him saying that he had shredded my letter. I cannot describe the devastation that I felt in my heart.”

After many years of intensive therapy, Pérez asked to meet face-to-face with his abuser. “It was important for me to … do my best to let him know what I had experienced and what I had felt and how it had affected not only my life, but my family's life, the other secondary victims involved,” he remembered.

The meeting, managed by the priest’s order, was not handled in trauma-sensitive ways. Pérez described how his abuser greeted him with open arms, motioning for a hug, and Pérez said he instantly felt like a child again. “I experienced a lot of conflicting, mixed feelings,” he recalled. “There was a part of me that felt that this was somebody who loved me … who truly cared about me.” When they sat down to talk, the abuser and his vice provincial were seated about six inches higher than Pérez, who also had none of his loved ones or advocates in the room with him. The abuser took no accountability for his actions, and in the aftermath of this meeting, Pérez experienced painful flashbacks and dissociation. “In retrospect, I wish I had been better prepared,” he noted.

LET’S DISCUSS WHAT WE HEARD. PLEASE JOIN US!

Don’t miss Part 2 of this Courageous Conversation, 7 pm Central on Thursday, September 19. Attendees will break into small groups to discuss the ideas shared by the panelists in Part 1. To join us, please complete the registration for Part 2 and watch the video recording before you attend. See you on Thursday!

How to Listen Well

Each panelist offered advice about receiving abuse disclosures in ways that prevent additional pain. Pérez said that many victim-survivors are looking for opportunities to share their story with good listeners, an experience that can offer healing.

“Allow the person to speak and just be a generous listener,” he said. “Just be present … I think a lot of times we feel like we have to fix it. Don't feel like you have to fix it. Just listening genuinely and asking questions as appropriate, I think does much more.”

“Having really, really big ears and a really, really small mouth would be a great piece of advice,” Mitch added. She also suggested reaching out a few days after a person shares their story. Checking in, even briefly, helps much more than silence.

“When I have shared my story with friends or family members, a few folks have reached out the next day or a couple days later just acknowledging how vulnerable that was for me and thanking me for my honesty and just a few words of gratitude,” she said.

And Barthel acknowledged that listeners hearing such painful stories may have the urge to provide comfort by hugging a survivor or, say, grabbing their hand. She recommended that listeners ask first before initiating any physical contact.

Why We Told Our Story

Near the end of the event, the speakers took a question from the audience about what they hoped to achieve when they began revealing their abuse to others.

“I think I was just looking to get it off my chest,” Mitch explained. “I had held that secret for so long.” Barthel said her aim was to get the abuser out of ministry and provide help to others he had harmed.

And Pérez described the act of speaking up as an antidote to “toxic silence.”

“If I continue to have toxic silence and not say what is actually going on,” he said, “that's very harmful to me and to those around me. I feel that it's my responsibility to be more active with that and become more mindful and aware when [toxic silence] happens.”

—Erin O’Donnell, Editor