Fear of being ‘sent away’
The terror of institutionalisation still hangs over Maria Richardson, who recalls frightening times from childhood at school and at home that cast shadows over the future
In 1971, I was emptying a bin when a newspaper heading caught my eye. I was absolutely delighted. The white paper Better Services for the Mentally Handicapped had just been published.
The 22-year-old me really believed it would signal the end of institutionalisation of people with learning difficulties. It was a very special moment. I thought it meant that children like me would never again be threatened with being ‘sent away’.
My terror of institutionalisation began when my infants’ school teacher was sick. My class was taken by Mary, a teaching assistant for the ÒbabiesÓ. She had gooseberry-green eyes and dark brown hair, with a fringe and a ponytail. She wore a green uniform with a black belt. Mary wanted us to take turns to read out loud, but I couldn’t read. She announced that children who never learned to read would be sent away – we would be locked up in a big institution. I felt sick.
“You’re a mental defective. You’ll be locked up and not allowed to marry and have children”
My fears were soon compounded by my older brother (who was no more than eight years old). He wanted me to do his homework so he could go out to play. But I had no idea about algebra. He stated firmly: ‘You’re a mental defective. You’ll be locked up and not allowed to marry and have children.’
I believed both Mary and him. For the next few years, I expected to be sent to Harperbury (a long-stay hospital in Hertfordshire). My heart went out to the children at my school who ‘vanished’ – I was sure I knew where they had gone. I struggled to learn to read. It was stressful and most days I came home in tears. Eventually, I was referred to a psychologist. After giving me lots of tests, she announced to my parents: ‘There’s nothing about this child that an intelligent teacher can’t cure.’
I will never know if I was meant to hear this, but I suddenly felt a huge sense of relief – although I didn’t completely trust her. A few days later, I told my Nan that I was likely to fail an arithmetic test. ‘Don’t worry, darling,’ she said: ‘You’ll get married and have children.’ I felt reassured; she was one of the few adults I trusted.
Nightmares remain
Mary still features in my nightmares and I always think of her when I walk past the British Psychological Society head office. Since 1971, I have often had my hopes raised and dashed. Many initiatives for people with learning difficulties have sought to prevent their being institutionalised – only for little to change. Every debate about ‘bringing people back home’ reminds me of the optimism of that newspaper article and how people have been let down yet again.
Only today, as I write, Community Care magazine published an article headed: ‘Scheme to help learning disabled people move out of hospitals ‘floundering’, warn NHS leaders.’ But it’s not just about getting people out of hospitals. It’s also making sure they are not admitted unless they are ill. And, for me and many others, it is also about removing the terrifying threat of institutionalisation.
The name of the author has been changed at her request
