William Joseph Clayton

541 Days Road, Kingston, ON K7M3R8, CA

The Reclamation Project: The Value of Living Life at the Helm

Stories of life in an institution and the voices that closed them

William Joseph (Joe) Clayton

Peace at Last

I was born in Pembroke Ontario February 9 1953, wt. 8 lbs. 9 oz. I was with my mom for six years. My mom was sick and could not care for me, so my moms' friend looked after me until she died. I was made a ward of the Children's Aid Society at five years of age.

On August 18, 1958, I remember that day as if it were yesterday. My mom said goodbye to me, and I got into the car. I sat in the back of the car and then I stood up and looked out of the back car window. My mom got smaller and smaller and then she was gone out of my life.

My life was like a game. I was always made to move from one place to another. Someone from the Children's Aid Society would throw my clothes in the trunk of a car and would take me to a new place. They would say ''you have to stay here'' and I had no say in the matter.

It seems that people kept rejecting me all the time and I felt that nobody really cared for me. People did not seem to understand my needs and problems. My foster mother thought it would be better if I was institutionalized before I became too emotionally involved and too dependent on my foster family.

One day, on May 16, 1966, The Children's Aid Society put me in an institution called Rideau Regional.

Let me tell you, being in an institution is like living in hell. First of all, I was put in a ward called the ''mission ward''. I was 12 years old. The staff got us to take our clothes off and stand naked. They would measure everyone to find out our size of clothes. The only thing covering everyone was a nightgown until we got our clothes to wear.

We had to have our names put on our clothes to make sure no one stole them from us. It made me feel like a dog.

At the mission ward we would go for a walk outside. We were made to hold hands to make sure we did not run away. It was almost like a herd of sheep to keep us in line.

Two weeks after being in the institution I was put in a ward 3.D. with 25 other patients who were men 18- 30 years old. I was only 12 years old. Can you imagine the fear a 12 year old boy would be feeling, looking up at these giants?

We had to stand in line to get our meals and our pill. The pills were referred to as ''candies''. If I moved, one of the patients would attack me. I only moved once before I learned not to move. We also had to stay in line with our towels around our waists and soap in hand and we had to walk down a hallway to get to the showers. We all had to shower in the same place. There was no privacy and it was like being in prison.

I was very scared seeing all these naked men all around me. I was hit a lot when taking showers. They used a wet towel to hit me with. I would end up with cuts on my body. I was ''gang raped'' in the shower by men. I passed out from this attack.

People were always fighting and stealing. It make me very scared for my life and personal belongings.

I always felt ashamed and that no cared because of how I was treated. An older and bigger man ended up attacking me with scissors. I was cut but not too bad. I was always scared for my own life.

The doors were always locked and the only time I got to get out was with a staff member to go for walks, showers and go to school. I remember when I did not follow the rules I was put in a dark room and the door was locked. This room was called '' the side room''. I was made to sit naked on the cold floor. I remember men looking through the window and laughing at me. I did not understand why I was treated so bad. I sat in the corner crying because I was afraid and scared.

The other things they would do to me if I broke the rules was put my head in the toilet bowl, and make me kneel in a corner for 2- 3 hours.

Not all staff were bad. There some good staff too.

At night some patients would attack me and rape me. They told me that if I told staff they would kill me. Every night different men would attack and rape me. The word got passed around and I was called ''Spongy". This went on for 6 years. At night sometimes staff would come around and pull the sheets off the bed when I was sleeping. I would wake up to staff checking my testicles with a flash light and stick. They would then sprinkle a powder on me. This always made me uncomfortable and I didn't know what was going on. I believe now that this was for bedbugs. There was never privacy at Rideau.

I was made to eat a whole bar of soap once when I swore. This make me very sick.

I worked in the laundry room and had to clean the poop out of the dirty linen.

I was once told I was being taken for a ''brain test''. Wires were hooked up to my head and a piece of wood put underneath my tongue. I was shocked and my jaw shook. Living at Rideau Regional Centre was like hell for me.

I ran away from Rideau Regional Centre two times. Each time, though, I was returned to the Centre.

I am glad I was finally able to leave Rideau Regional Centre. That was May 16th, 1971.

On May 16, 2013 I went back to Rideau Regional Centre. It had been 47 years and it was very hard to do, but I did it.

If I've ever learned anything from history it's that no one has ever learned anything from the mistakes of history. It is through knowing people's stories that a history is built. In this case, it's the history of the people of Ontario, and institutions for people with developmental disabilities.

As Santayana said, ''Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. By making sure people know this history I believe, if the Ontario government listens to the people, that doom will not repeat itself to go back to the institutions.

Institution is just a word and you don't understand what it is until you live it.

I don't hate the Ontario government, but when we were in the institution, it was like prison.

I am upset with the Ontario government, because my stomach got really sick inside and the government did nothing. I was told that the Ontario government knew what was going on in the past.

You know, the Ontario government destroyed our lives. I was a normal child before I went into an institution. When I left, I had a lot of problems with nightmares and I still deal with depression.

For years after I left Rideau Regional Centre, I could still hear the sound of screams in my head.

I have to leave a light on at night to make sure I know where I am when I wake up. It makes me feel safer.

I still have some of the problems now, and I am learning to deal with them and trying to have a normal life. I have never heard the words '' I am sorry". Being able to talk to others about my experiences gives me the knowledge to never, ever, ever let this happen to anyone ever again. I believe such hardship in life can be forgiven, but not forgotten. I know that sharing my story is part of the healing process.

Change the way people see others with disability and encourage those who have been abused to speak up and start the healing process. Educate people about what happened in the institutions and to make sure that this type of punishment and abuse doesn't happen again to any human being.

Being sexually abused is the worst humiliation that can happen. There were many others who also were abused in Rideau Regional Centre. Some are dead and their secrets lie with them but I am still alive and I am talking for them and me. You can't just take a shower and wash away all the horrible memories. I am glad I did not succeed in ending my life because I would then just be another victim of abuse in institutions who takes his story to the grave, but I am glad I am here.

I am a Survivor. I know that someday I will die, but I will rest well because I actually did something to help our community, and hopefully the world, by speaking up for what I believe.

Now I live in South River, Ontario. I left Sharbot Lake, Ontario. I have had support from Community Living, and other great organizations, for 14 years. Now, I am independent.

My partners' name is Christina. I have spoken for 10 years as a guest speaker at Loyalist College in Belleville, Ontario for their Developmental Service Workers Program.

I portrayed a cook in a movie, filmed in Picton, Ontario, called the ''Battle of Dieppe''.

I was the narrator in a documentary film called "the R Word'' and there are a lot of other things in my life that I accomplished.

And I thank all the people who have helped me to get where I am. It is great to talk about my story but moving ahead into the future was difficult because the institution was blocking me. Many people offered to support me but they could not get through to me. The institution was holding me back, until I met Christina in 2014 and she helped me to see the way. The day I met Christina I decided not to let the past take me down but to live and be free from my past. First, I learned to love myself and to forgive anyone who hurt me. Then, I learned to move on and balance life. After that, I decided to share my story at conferences and meetings. Being able to share my story and experiences with others has given me the knowledge to never, ever let this happen to anyone again. I believe that sharing such hardships in life are a big part of the healing process.

I am very happy today to be successful in my new life running an art gallery with my partner Christina . I enjoy the things around me, going camping, fishing, bicycling and photographing wild life. I even enjoy the winter time in Northern Ontario. I love to go snowshoeing and skiing. Learning how to do art on the computer with my photos is something I never did before because I did not feel worthy about myself.

When I started to believe in myself, all the worthlessness was gone and a new creative door opened for me. When I would go home after telling my story, I would relive it and I would become very grumpy inside but I have now found a way to handle these feelings. Taking photos, recreating art and finding other ways to solve the problems have brought me to a healing process which also heals humanity.