Tears that won’t go away

Tears have taken up residence behind Grant West’s bright blue eyes. He is 57 years old, a Kiwi living in Australia, with bleachtipped hair and a crumpled leather jacket.

By his estimate, he was sexually abused by 60 to 80 men by the time he turned 18. Just two of them faced justice.

His first abuser was his mother, he says. He was 4.

Then the church moved in. These days he is a sort-of celebrity in the campaign against child sexual abuse. It is not the kind of fame anyone would choose.

He worked behind the scenes to get an Australian commission of inquiry into institutional responses to child sexual abuse.

And he was instrumental in starting a movement of tying ribbons to church fences: a reminder to those inside that, while the victims and supporters can’t always be there, they are there in spirit.

He petitioned for the New Zealand government to follow Australia’s lead, which it did, first by setting up the Royal Commission of Inquiry into Historical Abuse in State Care, then by extending it to include faith-based abuse.

tears well up in his eyes. His wife, Patsy-anne, moves quickly to his side. Afterwards, he manages to mostly hold back the tears as he relays the horrors of his early life.

‘‘My abuse started at aged 4. I was taken to church by my mother – she was the first to abuse me. Then I was abused by a minister . . . from 6 to 8.’’

He went on to burn down that church and ended up in a boys’ home, where the abuse continued. ‘‘Sexual abuse, rape, penetration, getting asked to do

. . . things on them. This went through a number of staff there, then outside the church as well.

‘‘The second time at Epuni [boys’ home in Lower Hutt] we were taken out and solicited to men out there in the public.’’

As he moved around various homes and institutions, the abuse continued. ‘‘You learn to disassociate yourself . . . It is not till afterwards, you bleed, it does damage.

‘‘That is when you wake up and go, ‘oh sh..’, this has happened, and that is when you break down . . . I used to just look at a spot on the wall while it was happening because you are not going to stop it.’’

He did once try to stop it. The scar on his upper left cheek from the punishment is still visible.

Were there any homes he wasn’t abused in? ‘‘Yes, there was actually,’’ he says, his voice lifting as he remembers.

It was a family home, and while it was a respite from abuse, it was not complete.

‘‘I was always on edge waiting for something to happen. Whenever [the father] came into the bedroom to say goodnight, I always thought it was going to happen. It never did. Never did.’’

And among the homes and institutions, he would occasionally be sent back to his mother. One of his earliest memories was of her, while he was in the bath, making him stare at a clock on the wall to tell him the time while she fondled him and – at least once – herself.

His mother’s abuse continued till he was 16, he says.

He fled to Australia to forget it all. It wasn’t till 2006 that he first went to a psychologist. That didn’t work, though counselling did, as did talking to other men. But he still thinks about suicide daily.

‘‘It doesn’t go away. The reason I stand up is I don’t want to see it happen to more children. It has to stop.’’ unique. Ministry of Social Development figures show that, in 2017, 1010 children and young people were sexually abused.

The numbers have dropped each year since 2013, but they are the tip of the iceberg, as the ministry counts only cases that were investigated or assessed and found to have happened.

The wide-ranging Dunedin Study – which has tracked people since their birth in Dunedin in 1972 and 1973 – shows 30.3 per cent of women and 9.1 per cent of men reported they had been the victim of child sexual abuse.

Perhaps New Zealand’s biggest step yet to addressing those numbers was the establishment, in February 2018, of the royal commission of inquiry. As well as listening to stories of abuse, it will examine ways to stop further abuse.

‘Part of the job of any inquiry is to get to the truth,’’ commissioner Sandra Alofivae says. ‘‘We have an important job in finding out what happened to children, young people and vulnerable adults in care between 1950 and 1999.

‘‘We are hearing accounts from survivors who have had experiences, which, in many cases, are the worst experiences of their lives. We are hearing things that most New Zealanders have never heard before. This is a part of our history that many people would be shocked by.

‘‘Every person who comes forward is offered support and counselling before and after their private session with myself or another commissioner.

‘‘All survivors will be heard. They will be believed. Understanding what survivors of abuse experienced is critical to ensuring it doesn’t happen again to others.’’