Church in
Crisis
Victim, experts tell of abuse by nuns
By LOUIS ROM
Lafayette, La.
Myra Hidalgo was 12 when she met Sr. Cheryl Porte, a young,
charming nun who was her teacher at Opelousas Catholic Middle School in
Southwest Louisiana.
Porte, a member of the Marianites of the Holy Cross, taught her
about “theology, the Beatles, Carl Jung and social justice,” said
Hidalgo.
And, after earning her trust, Porte taught her about sex --
coaxing the 12-year-old into a sexual relationship that lasted more than two
years.
“It would generally start with her requesting that I rub her
back or stomach,” Hidalgo said. “Then she would take over, guiding my
hand over her body. When I would pull away from her, she would cry. In guilt, I
would reach out to comfort her, and again the sexual contact would
start.”
Hidalgo thought her experience an aberration, a chance occurrence
between a single deviant nun and a naïve young girl.
Experts on abuse by church figures say the scenario has played out
at convents, Catholic schools, churches and orphanages across the country. Over
the last decade, at least a dozen lawsuits alleging sexual abuse by nuns have
been filed, and cases in Minnesota, Vermont, New York and Michigan have been
settled. None of them are known to have been prosecuted.
Leading experts on clergy abuse, and an author of a book on
abusive nuns, have said that over the years they’ve been contacted by more
than 100 people who claim nuns sexually abused them.
In the annals of abuse by church leaders, as in society in
general, women sex abusers remain the exception. Studies show they comprise no
more than 5 percent of all abusers. Currently, women’s orders have no
national standard to guide their handling of sexual abuse complaints against
sisters and instead rely on each congregation to implement and follow its own
policies regarding abuse.
The Leadership Conference of Women Religious, a national
organization with more than 1,000 elected leaders who represent about 76,000
sisters in the United States, declined to adopt the bishops’ “Charter
for the Protection of Children and Young People,” adopted in Dallas in
June, saying that they had no hand in writing the document, and that its
original title referred only to clerics, not women religious.
Gary Schoener is a Minnesota-based therapist who has consulted on
thousands of abuse cases, including hundreds involving clergy. Over the years,
Schoener learned of 20 nuns who were accused of sexual abuse. He said most of
them had multiple victims.
Ashley Hill, who researched the subject for eight years for her
book Habits of Sin, (Xlibris Corp.), understands society’s
inclination to dismiss such allegations.
“It’s so hard to believe that women do this,” said
Hill, who said she was abused as a 7-year-old student in a New Hampshire
parochial school.
Hill said during her research she heard from people claiming to be
victims of sexually abusive nuns in 24 states, as well as in Ireland, Canada
and Australia. She has corresponded with more than 40 victims who said nuns
sexually abused them. Six of those cases involved male victims.
A.W. Richard Sipe, a psychotherapist and former Benedictine monk
with more than 35 years of experience working with clergy sex abuse, said he
has handled dozens of sexual abuse cases in which nuns were the abusers. Sipe
said society’s comfort level with intimate touching between women and
children enables female abusers to initiate contact far more easily without
suspicion.
In addition, many experts -- including Sipe, Schoener and Hill --
have said a higher percentage of abusive nuns tend to be severely disturbed.
Some are paranoid schizophrenics; others suffer from hallucinations and
delusions.
“With women ... they’re not predators per se, but
they’re not well put together,” said Schoener.
Schoener said that the stereotype of the abuse victim -- shy,
insecure, craving attention -- has never been altogether accurate. But he said
Hidalgo and many other victims shared one trait that may have made them the
perfect mark for this type of abuse.
“They were devout,” said Schoener. “The more
devout, the easier the target.”
And Hidalgo, who once considered a religious vocation, was a
dutiful Catholic. Today, she devotes herself to her own recovery and the
healing of others.
In 1980, the year her relationship with Porte was revealed -- a
neighbor saw Hidalgo and Porte kissing in a car outside the convent and
reported it to the Marianites -- Hidalgo’s older sister, Mona, shot
herself in the head. Five years later, her mother died of heart problems after
angioplasty. Weeks later, her father shot himself. Over the next 18 months,
Hidalgo attempted suicide three times.
After several years as the recipient of psychiatric counseling,
Hidalgo recently set up practice as a clinical social worker in New
Orleans.
She’s thankful for the nosy neighbor who spotted her and
Porte in that car and for a chance to share her story with other survivors of
abuse by church leaders.
After the abuse was reported, Porte was removed from the school.
For years, Hidalgo thought Porte had been taken out of ministry. This June,
Hidalgo learned Porte is still a member of the order, that after the abuse was
discovered she was assigned to another parish and that the Marianites have no
documentation that Porte ever abused her. Porte did not return calls and
e-mails for comment on this story.
In a June 18 letter, Hidalgo wrote to Sr. Mary Kay Kinberger, the
Marianites’ congregational leader. She requested that the order adopt the
same zero-tolerance policy the U.S. bishops adopted in their Dallas charter and
“become a leading advocate to promote sociological and psychological
research on sexual abuse by Catholic religious.” She further asked the
order to financially compensate her for “total out-of-pocket expenses for
mental health services from 1987 to 1993.”
She met with Kinberger and her assistant in July. Hidalgo
described the spirit of the meeting as open and honest -- at one point the
assistant began to cry in sympathy at Hidalgo’s story. Though a recent
investigation by the order could not confirm that Hidalgo had been sexually
abused, the Marianites did acknowledge that there had been an
“inappropriate relationship.” Hidalgo said, “I felt they wanted
to say more but couldn’t because of the situation. But it was a good
meeting. Very healing.”
Now Porte speaks occasionally at church functions at a parish in
O’Fallon, Ill., a small town 20 miles east of St. Louis. More often than
not, Hidalgo is comfortable with that.
“I do recognize it’s important to identify her,”
said Hidalgo, “but at the same time while I don’t really care to
protect her I don’t want the rest of her life to be ruined
either.”
Louis Rom is city life editor of The Times of Acadiana,
Lafayette, La. A longer version of this story, published in the Aug. 7 issue of
that weekly newspaper, can be found at the newspaper’s Web site at
www.timesofacadiana.com/nuns
National Catholic Reporter, November 01,
2002
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