IT WAS billed as a silent march to commemorate the victims of institutional abuse. But there was no way of containing decades of grief, frustration and anger.
It all came pouring out in a dam-burst of emotion in front of Leinster House, as victims and members of the public gathered to remember the thousands of children who passed through more than 200 Catholic-run institutions over the past 70 years.
They brought white ribbons and tiny children’s shoes to symbolise the innocence of so many lost childhoods. But some couldn’t hold back their fury and resentment at their treatment as the march converged on Leinster House.
For many, it was the first chance to vent their emotion publicly after a lifetime of being dismissed or disregarded by authorities.
Marie-Therese O’Loughlin, a former resident of Goldenbridge, clambered on to the makeshift podium to speak.
“This was our mini-holocaust. The Government and religious tried to pretend we were not hurt in these institutions. We were not criminals!” she screamed.
When a petition was handed over to representatives of religious congregations on stage, the PA system was drowned out by a chorus of shouting and heckles.
“Compulsive liars!” shouted one. “What about the children still locked up in adult mental hospitals,” yelled another. A group started chanting in unison: “Tell the truth! Tell the truth!”
Yet, despite the strong emotional undercurrent, this was a dignified march and a powerful expression of solidarity with clerical abuse victims .
There was respectful applause from onlookers as the march made its way along O’Connell Street, stopping outside the GPO where the organisers held a banner aloft. It read: “Cherishing all of the children of the nation equally.” By the time the crowd made its way to Leinster House, politicians kept a discreet distance.
Christine Buckley, of the Aislinn Centre, spoke, her voice wavering with emotion. “We have been silenced for so long. I wish we could do this 365 days a year,” she said, to a big roar of approval. “This is the survivors’ ascension day.”
Other abuse victims spoke too, reading out the names of the 216 institutions which were the centre of abuse or mistreatment of children.
Away from the noise of the march, Teresa Murphy, who spent 16 years in an industrial institution, spoke quietly about what the day meant for her. “All of these years we have been suffering in silence, with loneliness inside us. Now, at least, we can speak out,” she said. This was the victims’ day; a generation of forgotten children, ignored no longer.
