Thank you!
Light After Darkness
On 11 May 1999, the then Taoiseach Bertie Ahern apologised on behalf of the state and its citizens to victims of institutional abuse for 'our collective failure to intervene, to detect their pain, to come to their rescue'. Eleven years on, four children of survivors of abuse at Ireland's industrial schools recount the effect the cruelty and neglect suffered by their parents has had on their lives.
By Claire Ryan.
Photographs by Mark Condren
Sunday Tribune
'Knowing what mam suffered has definitely made us closer. The moment I walk in the door my mam still runs up and hugs me' Conor Buckley (29)
His mother Christine Buckley grew up in Goldenbridge Orphanage and was the subject of the 1996 documentary 'Dear Daughter'. She now runs The Aislinn Centre, which supports survivors of abuse
'I've a vivid memory from when I was a kid of being in my bedroom and seeing a big scar running down my mother's leg. I was probably about five or six at the time and I remember asking why her leg was like that. She was pretty open about it and said that boiling water had been poured over it but she didn't go into any detail in terms of why or how it happened.
My mam lived in Goldenbridge Orphanage from the time she was a few months old up until she was around 18. Her mam met my grandad, a Nigerian medical student in Dublin and became pregnant. After giving birth to my mam in England, she came back to Ireland and placed her in Goldenbridge.
I was 15 when Dear Daughter aired in 1996. My sister, brother and myself were featured in the closing scenes so we were very aware of it and knew it could be something big. My mam didn't want me to watch it on the night of the first broadcast because I had a big important sports game the next day and it would have been too upsetting. I remember seeing her photo in the papers the next day at school but nobody around me made too much of a fuss, which was good. I eventually watched it a few weeks later and I was upset but in actual fact I found it a lot more upsetting when I was older and watched it again. Maybe reality had kicked in a little more. I think if I watched it again now I'd find it even more upsetting and I'd probably be even angrier than before.
After the documentary was broadcast, we had to get a second phone in the house because there were so many calls and journalists were camped outside the house 24/7 but mam really took it all in her stride.
I've never been to Goldenbridge. I know when mam visited there she was shaking like a leaf because of the bad memories it brings back to her. I don't think I'd ever want to see the place because of what happened to her there.
I'm actually quite religious in my own way and I haven't lost my faith. I know there are a lot of very good priests and nuns out there and my mam always stressed the fact that there were nuns who were very good to her as well in Goldenbridge and my own experience with religious orders at my schools was very positive.
Knowing what mam suffered has definitely made us closer as a family. For someone who never had parents herself she has somehow still managed to be an incredibly loving parent and a great role model. The moment I walk in the door at home my mam still runs up and hugs me, which is the way it's been since I was a child. I suppose in many ways she's a mother not just to me, my brother and my sister but to everybody at the Aislinn Centre as well."
By Claire Ryan.
Photographs by Mark Condren
Sunday Tribune
'Knowing what mam suffered has definitely made us closer. The moment I walk in the door my mam still runs up and hugs me' Conor Buckley (29)His mother Christine Buckley grew up in Goldenbridge Orphanage and was the subject of the 1996 documentary 'Dear Daughter'. She now runs The Aislinn Centre, which supports survivors of abuse
'I've a vivid memory from when I was a kid of being in my bedroom and seeing a big scar running down my mother's leg. I was probably about five or six at the time and I remember asking why her leg was like that. She was pretty open about it and said that boiling water had been poured over it but she didn't go into any detail in terms of why or how it happened.
My mam lived in Goldenbridge Orphanage from the time she was a few months old up until she was around 18. Her mam met my grandad, a Nigerian medical student in Dublin and became pregnant. After giving birth to my mam in England, she came back to Ireland and placed her in Goldenbridge.
I was 15 when Dear Daughter aired in 1996. My sister, brother and myself were featured in the closing scenes so we were very aware of it and knew it could be something big. My mam didn't want me to watch it on the night of the first broadcast because I had a big important sports game the next day and it would have been too upsetting. I remember seeing her photo in the papers the next day at school but nobody around me made too much of a fuss, which was good. I eventually watched it a few weeks later and I was upset but in actual fact I found it a lot more upsetting when I was older and watched it again. Maybe reality had kicked in a little more. I think if I watched it again now I'd find it even more upsetting and I'd probably be even angrier than before.
After the documentary was broadcast, we had to get a second phone in the house because there were so many calls and journalists were camped outside the house 24/7 but mam really took it all in her stride.
I've never been to Goldenbridge. I know when mam visited there she was shaking like a leaf because of the bad memories it brings back to her. I don't think I'd ever want to see the place because of what happened to her there.
I'm actually quite religious in my own way and I haven't lost my faith. I know there are a lot of very good priests and nuns out there and my mam always stressed the fact that there were nuns who were very good to her as well in Goldenbridge and my own experience with religious orders at my schools was very positive.
Knowing what mam suffered has definitely made us closer as a family. For someone who never had parents herself she has somehow still managed to be an incredibly loving parent and a great role model. The moment I walk in the door at home my mam still runs up and hugs me, which is the way it's been since I was a child. I suppose in many ways she's a mother not just to me, my brother and my sister but to everybody at the Aislinn Centre as well."
'It was very upsetting to hear his anger and pain come out so powerfully but I'm glad that it did because it touched so many people' Catriona O'Connor (43) Her father Michael O' Brien, a former Fianna Fáil mayor of Clonmel, was sent to St Joseph's Industrial School, Ferryhouse, Clonmel, in the 1940s. His story came to public prominence following his emotional outburst on 'Questions & Answers' in May 2009
'I only found out 10 years ago about the sexual abuse my father suffered when I saw his photo in the paper beside a story that said something along the lines of 'Former Mayor of Clonmel Abused in an Industrial School'. None of us had any idea. We were gobsmacked. We knew that his mother had died when he was eight and that my father and seven of his siblings were taken from the family home and put into care but he'd completely protected us from knowing about the sexual abuse.
I rang him straight away after seeing the article and he apologised that he hadn't had a chance to tell us before the story hit the paper. I've two brothers and one sister and my father spoke to each of us individually because we're all very different and would have dealt with it in our own way. We each asked him what we felt we needed to know, or what we felt we could deal with at the time and he told us.
He'd buried all this pain under his thick skin for years until he finally let it out and told everyone the truth of what he'd suffered. I don't think he could have carried on for the rest of his life not telling us the extent of what went on at Ferryhouse but there was a time when you couldn't speak out against people in the church, so he didn't. They were treated like gods.
I think everything really came to a head when he was on Questions & Answers last year. I knew he was going to be in the audience and was there to ask a question but I wasn't prepared for what happened when he confronted minister Noel Dempsey and the government on the issue of institutional abuse. It was very upsetting to hear his anger and pain come out so powerfully but I'm glad that it did because it touched so many people. After Questions & Answers, the amount of emails, phone calls, letters and cards he received was unbelievable.
He's always been an amazing father. He was tough with us growing up but very fair and very supportive. We never wanted for anything. He could have turned out bitter and defeated by what he suffered and he could taken his own pain out on his family but he never did.
He never turned to drink or put what he had suffered upon us. My mother is a fantastic woman as well and
I admire them both for giving us a normal home life against the odds. I see my father every day. We're very close. He dotes on his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.
Sometimes I look at him and think it's incredible what he's been through in his life. He's very strong and he'll stay strong until he gets closure – no matter how long it takes. He'll fight on until the day he dies. He just wants acceptance of the damage that has been done.
I feel a lot of anger about what he went through. It affects us all to this day. We still cry about it. This is something we never asked for. It should never have happened to my father or anyone. I don't go to Mass. I can't bring myself to go. Maybe my faith in the church will come back but at the moment it's too raw.
I rang him straight away after seeing the article and he apologised that he hadn't had a chance to tell us before the story hit the paper. I've two brothers and one sister and my father spoke to each of us individually because we're all very different and would have dealt with it in our own way. We each asked him what we felt we needed to know, or what we felt we could deal with at the time and he told us.
He'd buried all this pain under his thick skin for years until he finally let it out and told everyone the truth of what he'd suffered. I don't think he could have carried on for the rest of his life not telling us the extent of what went on at Ferryhouse but there was a time when you couldn't speak out against people in the church, so he didn't. They were treated like gods.
I think everything really came to a head when he was on Questions & Answers last year. I knew he was going to be in the audience and was there to ask a question but I wasn't prepared for what happened when he confronted minister Noel Dempsey and the government on the issue of institutional abuse. It was very upsetting to hear his anger and pain come out so powerfully but I'm glad that it did because it touched so many people. After Questions & Answers, the amount of emails, phone calls, letters and cards he received was unbelievable.
He's always been an amazing father. He was tough with us growing up but very fair and very supportive. We never wanted for anything. He could have turned out bitter and defeated by what he suffered and he could taken his own pain out on his family but he never did.
He never turned to drink or put what he had suffered upon us. My mother is a fantastic woman as well and
I admire them both for giving us a normal home life against the odds. I see my father every day. We're very close. He dotes on his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.
Sometimes I look at him and think it's incredible what he's been through in his life. He's very strong and he'll stay strong until he gets closure – no matter how long it takes. He'll fight on until the day he dies. He just wants acceptance of the damage that has been done.
I feel a lot of anger about what he went through. It affects us all to this day. We still cry about it. This is something we never asked for. It should never have happened to my father or anyone. I don't go to Mass. I can't bring myself to go. Maybe my faith in the church will come back but at the moment it's too raw.
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