When I talk about genders within this article, I refer to the binary states of boy/man/male and girl/woman/female, purely because at the time of writing, this was the division which primarily determined the type of school in which boarding school children were educated. There is no intention to diminish or disrespect anyone who identifies in any way other than the stereotypes described in this blog. Similarly, this article in no way seeks to diminish the terrible experiences that children the world over endure when assaulted by adult care givers.

At long last we are seeing attention being paid to the issue of boarding school, and the harm done to children who were sent away, often at a very young age, to be educated away from home. Yet even in this space, many women are concerned that there is a very gendered bias towards the male experience of those who survived boarding school.

Rightly public attention is being paid to the fact that boys were so often cruelly beaten, physically or sexually abused, within the closed environments of boarding schools. Undoubtedly girls were also sexually abused, and all of these victim-survivors deserve to have their voices heard and the perpetrators brought to justice.

But it is clear that many women are unhappy that their bad experiences of growing up in an all-female environment of a boarding school goes unrecognised and is often dismissed purely because it seems way less dramatic than the narratives around child sexual or physical abuse. While I have no wish to cause offence to the leaders and pioneers of the boarding school survivors’ movement, I cannot help but sympathise with the many female ex-boarders, who say how they feel ignored and misunderstood. But this leads onto the question, why is it hard to listen to these women and why is it that these women feel unheard?

However one of the problems in taking a stance on ‘gender’ differences, is that there is potential to potentiate the male – female divide, and also alienate those who do not want to identify in the cis-gender space. Also I do not want these conversations to expand any sense of victimhood, when the path to healing is to restore and empower all people who identify themselves as boarding school survivors.

Having said this, I believe there is some merit in examining the female perspective of those who have had a boarding school education.  In the context of our British culture, it is not altogether surprising that the opinion and views of women in this arena has lagged behind that of our male counterparts. Most of the public schools originated as establishments for boys, created to fulfil various roles that served the state, and we still live in a predominantly male driven society, a legacy of generations who believed that only boys should be educated, and that leaders should be men. The fact is that even when girls were recognised as being worthy of an education, the female boarding schools that came into being were few in number and considerably less prestigious. Yet, for the past 50 years, girls have also been sent away to boarding schools by their families in increasing numbers, and they too had to find a way to survive within these anachronistic and misogynist institutions.

When the plight of boarders was first brought to public attention, pioneers like Nick Duffell did not know or understand the ways in which girls also suffered, and people still remain ignorant about the experience of young women who spent their formative years in boarding school.  Duffell’s original healing workshops existed only for male ex-boarders, until women contacted him and asked for help themselves. While there are many more co-ed boarding schools now, the majority originated from single sex boarding schools for boys. But whether girls board in single sex schools or not, their experiences are undoubtedly different to that of the boys.

Boys at boarding schools have been routinely subjected to physical abuse including corporal punishment in far greater numbers than girls, and it is possible that they may have suffered from more sexual abuse too, (although the absolute evidence for this is lacking). But there is still relative ignorance about why female survivors are no less traumatised especially when their experiences seem less ‘dramatic’ and do not satisfy the criteria for popular, sensationalist media coverage.

In exploring this, it is important to understand that boarding schools were microcosms of society, where girls were also being trained in roles which satisfied the order of the day. There are very few famous female boarding schools, just as there is no ‘old girls club’ in parliament and no favours to women as a result of the ‘old school tie’. While women were ostensibly being sent to these establishments for education, often academic success was not quite as coveted as in boy’s schools.

 I attended two all-girls boarding schools between the ages of 9-17. Perhaps ironically the first school was more ‘academic’ and we were streamed and encouraged to do exams early. But despite the expensive fees, subject options were limited. I was transferred to the second school when my parents realised that I was unhappy, but this school did not make life any better for me. This school was smaller and there was only one class for the whole year group. Many of the girls were doing CSEs, a less challenging exam to the then ‘O’ levels. The numbers in our lower six class had dwindled as girls would be sent away to ‘finishing schools’ or were there to re-take exams. By the upper sixth, there were only six of us left to do ‘A’ levels. If my memory serves me correctly, only two of us went on to university.

When I first arrived at this school, I could not understand how or why these girls were boarding when their homes were so close by.  I was a first-generation boarder, having been sent back to the UK to school because my father was a diplomat, and the government paid for my school fees. When some of my new classmates discussed ‘coming out’ as debutantes, I had no idea what they were talking about.  On reflection, I can see how these girls were still very much under the influence of upper-class society, which saw women as attractive accessories to successful husbands. Despite the fact, that our culture was beginning to change, boarding schools were still steeped in this binary view of the world. Women had their place, but always in a supportive role, at the side of the male leader.  

It is therefore no surprise that boarding school set about breaking our spirits, making us submissive and malleable. But unlike boys, the penalties meted out to girls at boarding school were not usually physical.  When we failed to comply, our punishments were shame-based, and it was all too easy to shame little girls. It was not just the absence of kindness, compassion and understanding that took its toll.  Command, control, shouting and snide remarks by the adults in authority as well as derogatory comments on our appearance and character undermined our self-worth. The red pen in our exercise books, the public humiliation when our misdemeanors were brought to the attention of the school…..It didn’t take much to bring our self-esteem crashing to the floor. By our nature and upbringing, girls were given more leeway to show our emotions in the home environment, and crying might be considered a normal response – but not for us at boarding school. Crying was a sign of weakness. Crying could draw attention to yourself and therefore to the bullies.

Literally overnight, when we arrived at boarding school, we were expected to conceal our feelings. Boarding school was no place for tears and there was no place for anger either. We were little girls who had been abandoned into the care of strangers to whom we had no emotional attachment. We were expected to conform, dressed exactly alike in our uniforms, hair tied back, given the same food to eat, timetabled to sleep at set times, even changing our underwear on designated days. We wore a second pair of knickers – over-pants to make sure that when ‘the curse’ came, there would be less chance that embarrassing blood stains would show.  Our changing female bodies were not discussed and when our breasts started to develop, the need to wear a bra became part of the competition. Our sexuality was never part of the conversation, and as we became teenagers, our desire for a mother figure, which had been missing from our lives was easily confused as a desire for intimacy with older girls, or for sex with boyfriends.

We did not know that we missed our mothers as we struggled through period pains, fluctuating moods and our confusion. We only had each other, and that was supposed to be enough. My own sex education came from the 9- & 10-year-olds in my dormitory on my first night at boarding school, when I was asked whether I knew where babies come from. The only time I ever heard an adult talk about sex was during one biology class when I was 14. I remember how as a class, we embarrassed the teacher by asking her what an orgasm was. Poor Mrs S blushed crimson and mumbled a few words – there was never any mention of the word clitoris.

 Bullying was very useful to the staff and matrons alike. It did much of their work for them. The older girls taught the younger ones what was expected of them, and then the bullies ensured that the school pecking order stayed in place and that any girl who attempted to voice a dissident opinion was silenced. Girls were expected to be demure – fights were primarily verbal, laced with passive aggression. Being ‘sent to Coventry’ and ignored by the rest of the class was commonplace, as was malicious gossip, taunting and teasing. There were so many unwritten rules that we learned to live by at boarding school. To complain of feeling ill would earn yourself the title of hypochondriac, to show your longing for home meant you were weak. You were required to kowtow to the popular girl and ignore those who were outside her favour.

The dormitory itself carried its own fears, because you could never get away – there was no privacy and no one to confide in. We became emotional islands, without any comprehension that we were not unusual or that all our classmates were likely suffering too. Instead, having learned to hide our feelings, we survived. We knew how to wear a mask and our problems as adults arose because we did not know how to take it off.

We were not a band of ‘sisters’ at school, because there was a fierce competitiveness between us that went under the radar, unspoken. We had to learn how to be our individual selves in subtle ways. It didn’t ‘do’ to boast, or to clamour after success. Unlike boys at boarding school, we weren’t being taught to ‘lead the country’ or take up positions of power. Perhaps as a result we didn’t develop the sense of entitlement that so many male boarding school survivors describe. Rather we learnt how to make alliances to survive, and that would serve us well when we found the perfect husband and could bask in his limelight.

Maybe it’s true that boarding schools turn out independent adults, after all as girls growing through adolescence without the guidance and help of a natural community, we had become very self-reliant.  We learned to cope with many things alone and in silence. I’m sure if a woman were to go through childbirth in an environment of all female ex-boarders, she would bear her labour pains with a minimum of ‘fuss’.

I have heard many female ex-boarders state that they hate being in all women’s groups. It triggers memories of school common rooms, dormitories and classrooms. It is hard not to be suspicious in such groups, unsure of who to trust, worried that all those old fears of being excluded or othered, would once again befall us, when all we really want is to leave it all behind.

Of course, some of what I have described is bound to have occurred in day schools too, but there was no escape for boarders. Girls whose parents lived overseas were in the worst position of all, some only going home once or twice a year. How could we possibly talk to our parents about our hopes, fears and dreams or receive meaningful adult counsel from them. When I hear how ‘things have changed now’ – children at boarding school have mobile phones, or they go home more often than we did growing up – I want to believe this is true. I hope that boarding schools have improved their hiring of staff and have matrons who show compassionate care to their young charges. But I still have to ask the question – can an adult who does not know you, who was not there from the moment of your birth and who has the responsibility for a number of children in the same position, really take the place of a loving parent? Does being on the phone, adequately replace the physical presence of a mother or a father – the love, the physical touch which all young children should be able to access when they feel the need?

So when I hear statements to the effect that girls at boarding school had a ‘better’ time because they avoided the physical abuse that boys received, then my response is that we are not in competition. We must salute the courage of all children who have survived the consequences of years continuous stress, emotional neglect and abuse. I respect our collective strength, courage and dignity.  

But every child, no matter what happened to them, has their own story to tell. Whether they have deep wounds or long-lasting trauma, they must be listened to, and allowed to express their anguish and their tears, because it is clear that validation of their experiences is the first step towards healing. What I have written in this article, may be very different from what you have experienced. Please feel free to share how it was for you.

I conclude with this opinion. I believe women or girls who have survived boarding school have equal right to have their experiences heard and validated. They should not be forced to receive group help in all ‘female’ spaces, if they believe that is not what will help their recovery. It is important that the whole boarding school survivor community come to understand the sensitivity of this matter to those who have felt excluded, and become willing to embrace diversity not just in terms of gendered spaces but also in the different modalities which take us further on our journeys to recovery.