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April 20, 2005 ‘James X’ puts a face on abuse
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PHOTO COURTESY OF manxproject.comr |
Two years ago, theology professor Dr. Patrick Welage
was in Ireland when a friend invited him to visit a former industrial
school. The school stands as a monument to a past history of institutionalized
abuse of children by the Irish government and the Roman Catholic
Church.
It was in these institutions that children were taken by the courts
and placed under the care of various religious orders. Those who
survived the brutal conditions often suffered from broken lives
and emotional problems.
Dr. Welage became fascinated by this sordid past and began to dig
deeper into the abundant Irish literature on the subject. In the
course of his search he found “James X,” Gerard Mannix
Flynn’s compilation of the thousands of stories of abuse into
one play.
Welage realized that “James X” was in line with Xavier’s
stated purpose of preparing students to be women and men for others,
and he invited Mannix Flynn to Xavier in order to “provoke
us to acknowledge this, own this, and witness this.” On April
16, “James X” made its North American debut in the Gallagher
Student Center Theater.
“James X” is portrayed on a very spartan stage: a simple
wooden bench, a few simple signs on the wall and the ironically
glorious and golden seal of the Republic of Ireland mounted high
upon the wall.
This is a one person play; not a one man show because, as Mannix
Flynn puts it, the play is representative of the collective experience
of all those who suffered in the industrial schools, both male and
female. This is not his story exclusively; he is not a victim, nor
is he a survivor; he is merely sharing the collective story in which
he has had a part.
As the play begins, James X enters to wait for a court hearing to
redress his past in the industrial schools. As he waits, James begins
a monologue with God, at first imploring for help, asking God, “Help
me feel, help me remember what I don’t want to remember. Help
me relive what I don’t want to relive.”
James narrates through his life, beginning at conception. Throughout
the play, he repeatedly employs a stream of consciousness method
of prose. This literary technique is often hit or miss in its delivery,
but Mannix Flynn executes perfectly. Far from a dry monologue, his
tone as well as his overall demeanor rise and fall with his narration.
The life of James X can best be summarized as tragedy after tragedy.
His parents always fought, he was ostracized by his peers, and he
turned to crime. Repeatedly, James is sent to industrial schools
and prisons to ‘reform’ him.
Instead of reformation, he suffers terribly at the hands of the
brothers who ran the schools: “Forever winter and I curse
those Christians who called themselves brothers, whose loving embrace
was a slap in the face and the kiss of a leather strap.” He
was raped orally and anally, and he was beaten. He lived in constant
fear.
Mannix Flynn often gives facial expressions showing deep pain, and
at several points he curls onto the floor or hides behind the bench
as he narrates the most traumatizing parts of James X’s life.
For the North American premiere of “James X,” Gerard
Mannix Flynn has added a multimedia portion called “Safe House,
Safe Place,” which filled the studio theater and chronicled
the widespread abuse against the 150,000 children who were sent
to industrial schools in Ireland.
The abuse came in many ways: sexual, physical, emotional, and psychological.
Thousands of these children died, and many of their names are unknown.
This massive undertaking by Mannix Flynn helps to put the play into
context.
Walking away from “James X,” I was filled with horror;
horror that such vile and inhuman acts were possible in the Western
world, horror that this kind of institutionalized abuse of children
could persist at such a level.
“James X” has parallels to our own priest abuse scandal.
In the spirit of all those who suffered, died, and were buried in
unmarked Irish graves, we must not pretend our abuse scandal does
not exist. We must acknowledge it and claim it as a product of our
imperfect world.
