What the nun in the Bishop Franco Mulakkal case faced follows the same pattern as what happened to the more well-known public figures in the MeToo movement.
In many cases, the all-powerful male professional network kicked in months after the allegations are made, and the women who were courageous enough to speak up lost jobs and assignments.
It has now reached a stage where the survivors who complain against the powerful are vilified and the accused are ironically projected as victims.
The Mulakkal case, which was reported on in great — and often salacious detail — in the mainstream media a year ago, has practically disappeared from view today. Some buzz was expected on November 11, the day when the bishop was to go on trial; the case has now been adjourned to November 30.
Media attention given to the case remained limited in the recent past, since there were other “pressing” political issues taking place at the same time. The #MeToo movement, which has gradually lost steam, features low on the priority list.
In a sense, the case of the bishop and the nun actually epitomizes both the #MeToo movement and its backlash. Many of the journalists, actors and other women who steered this movement with so much hope and courage last year were well-known public figures. But the nun who complained against the bishop was not. She was anonymous and continues to be so, even today. Yet what she has faced follows the same pattern as what happened to the more well-known public figures.
The survivour nun had nothing to gain and everything to lose when she outed the powerful bishop who allegedly raped her. In June last year, she accused the bishop of raping her multiple times between 2014 and 2016. She was supported by several other nuns, who also accused him of sexual misconduct. There were major rallies in support of the nuns, but what accompanied this were the beginnings of backlash.
As the weeks rolled by, it took unique courage for her to steadfastly stand by what she said. She lost her hard-won standing in the convent and faced threats and slander. She and the nuns who supported her were repeatedly punished and rejected by the very institution to which they dedicated their lives. This was in spite of the fact that the sexual harassment took place inside the convent where they lived and worked.
The bishop, on the other hand, continued to enjoy the support of his followers, just like the editors, music directors and others who were named in allegations. The church too, seemed to be covertly supporting him.
The tide turned against the nun when the convent to which she and the other nuns belonged turned against them. The congregation of the Missionaries of Jesus even publicly released a picture of the survivour nun seated next to her alleged perpetrator. The picture carried a date which indicated it was taken after the alleged series of rapes.
There was no consideration for how a survivour of sexual violence may take time to process what has happened to her and gather courage to out a powerful person.
As the weeks and months roll by, the sequence of events has become frighteningly familiar. One brave woman outs a powerful male predator. Others follow. Often, the women who publicly report their trauma are women with professional standing and credibility. Initially they get support, especially from female colleagues. A few male colleagues, relatives and friends also stand up for them. But the all-powerful male professional network kicks in soon. The men at the helm close ranks, and the women who were courageous enough to speak up lose jobs and assignments.
Gita Aravamudan
