These childhood sexual abuse survivors aren’t afraid to speak out
West-end centre provides them with support and a strong voice
By the time she was10 years old, Deb Maybury alleges, she’d been sexually abused by four different family acquaintances.
She remained largely silent for 20 years, burying her anger and telling only two college friends.
“Neither one were open or engaged to talk about it,” said Maybury, now 54.
A 7-year-old Stewart Thompson, now 55, and his younger brother were allegedly raped by multiple men, family acquaintances, and groomed to think it was normal. “We were passed around like friggin’ rag dolls,” Thompson said.
Thompson said the first person he told of the sexual abuse was a girlfriend. “She just didn’t believe me,” he said. Charmaine Loverin, 50, also alleges she was sexually abused as a child, from 5 to 15 years old. Despite opening up about the alleged abuse, she couldn’t find the support she needed.
Decades later Maybury, Thompson and Loverin, all Toronto residents, are working to change the stigma surrounding sexual abuse and help others find their voices at a Toronto counselling centre called the Gatehouse. They are empowered by the people sharing allegations of sexual abuse, assault and harassment as part of the global movement #MeToo.
“I love it,” Maybury said. “I think it is great people are joining in because there is so much power in numbers.”
The hashtag went viral on social media this fall, in the wake of sexual misconduct allegations against Hollywood producer and executive Harvey Weinstein. “The Silence Breakers,” as TIME calls the collective group of #MeToo participants, were named the magazine’s Person of the Year for 2017.
“I think it’s getting braver out there,” Loverin said. “I still think we have a long way to go, but it’s definitely opening up a lot.”
The Gatehouse, which helps male and female survivors of childhood sexual abuse, has experienced a jump in its numbers since #MeToo went viral, centre’s executive director Maria Barcelos said.
“Using the hashtag to shed light on sexual assault and harassment of women really does give others more strength, more courage to talk about these issues more publicly,” said Barcelos, adding that for some survivors, sharing their stories “more publicly” might mean within the walls of the Gatehouse.
This year, the Gatehouse (where Loverin, Thompson and Maybury are all volunteers) met with more than double its intake of clients, assessing 236 as compared to 109 in 2016, Barcelos said.
It also received 2,040 calls from people looking for support and information, up almost 280 calls from the year before.
A dozen more men and 35 more women completed the Gatehouse’s counselling program in 2017 than in 2016.
#Metoo has inspired some of these people to want to share their story in a safe space, but has also triggered traumatic memories for others who then reach out to the Gatehouse for support, Barcelos said.
“We have people who were watching the news and they couldn’t take it anymore,” Barcelos said. “They had this secret about being abused as kids, and they come to the Gatehouse and talk about their stories sometimes for the first time.”
For almost 20 years, #MeToo conversations have taken place within the walls of the Gatehouse, an old home that was once part of a psychiatric facility on Lakeshore Blvd. W.
Over the years founder Arthur Lockhart has watched as discussions in society, about sexual abuse, assault and harassment, have ebbed and flowed, he said. Much of the stigma, especially for male survivors, has stayed the same.
As with the Weinstein allegations, the Gatehouse saw a jump in clients during the Jian Ghomeshi trial in early 2016, but not a lot of lasting change, Lockhart said.
“We love big villains, but it feeds into a larger mythology — and as long as we keep responding to that mythology, we don’t spend any time thinking about how we can strengthen our homes and communities so that people can be safe and secure,” he said.
Loverin, Maybury and Thompson’s experiences need to be heard just as loud as those of celebrities because sexual abuse is pervasive and prevalent, Lockhart said. “It’s happening in families across the country, in households everywhere across the world.”
Between 2015 and 2016 the rate of sexual violations against children reported to police increased by 30 per cent to 19 incidents per 100,000 people, according to Statistics Canada. In 2016, police dealt with 6,245 cases of child pornography.
About 21,000 sexual assaults were reported to police that year — only a fraction of the total number of incidents, said Statistics Canada. Sexual assault is the most underreported violent crime in Canada. But survivors aren’t giving up. Loverin is behind a bill tabled in the Ontario Legislature to create an annual abuse prevention and awareness week in schools. Maybury is the author of a self-published book, Unlock the Door: Beyond Sexual Abuse, sharing dozens of survivors’ stories.
Thompson is the host of a podcast, Personal Transformation, where he speaks about his own experiences and the experiences of others. He has listeners from around the world.
“I was always told to keep my chin up and take it like a man,” he said. “That’s bull----.
“You can be brave and not say a damn thing, or you can be even braver by coming out and talking about what happened to you. In doing so, you not only help yourself, but you help many others.”
“I was always told to keep my chin up and take it like a man. That’s bull----.” STEWART THOMPSON GATEHOUSE VOLUNTEER