If someone had told me a few years ago that I’d one day be shaking hands with the Pope, I’d have laughed, sipped my tea, and asked them to pass the chapati.
But here we are – from Kampala’s dusty roads to the Vatican’s marble floors, and yes, I actually met the Pope. I didn’t go to Rome for confession or a photo op.
I went to demand justice. When you’re a survivor of sexual abuse, meeting the Pope isn’t just surreal, it’s strategic. It’s standing face-to-face with centuries of power and saying, ‘Holy Father, it’s time for holy accountability.’
As a survivor of sexual violence, I have spent years pushing for the Church to move beyond apologies toward accountability. Through Ending Clergy Abuse (ECA), a global network of survivors, advocates, and human rights defenders from more than 30 countries, we’ve called on the Vatican to enact one clear, non-negotiable policy: a universal zero-tolerance canon law. That means if any member of the clergy, bishop, priest, or nun, is found guilty of sexually abusing a child or vulnerable adult, they are defrocked, reported to civil authorities, and permanently barred from ministry.
No second chances. No quiet transfers to new parishes. No protection for predators disguised as mercy. For too long, the Church has responded to scandals by moving abusers instead of removing them, often from Europe to Africa, Latin America, or Asia. In doing so, it exports pain, not healing. As a Ugandan survivor, I’ve seen what that means on the ground: communities blindsided by ‘new priests,’ children left unsafe, and survivors left voiceless. So when our small delegation was invited to meet Pope Leo, it felt like history cracking open. We walked into the Apostolic Palace carrying years of anguish and a simple message:
‘Your Holiness, we don’t just need empathy. We need a system.’
To his credit, Pope Leo listened. He asked questions. He didn’t rush us. For the first time, I felt that the Church wasn’t just tolerating our presence, it was hearing our pain. I left the meeting with hope. Not the naïve kind that waits for miracles, but the kind that builds momentum. The kind that says: Now that you’ve listened, let’s act. Our request was concrete: Adopt a universal zero-tolerance canon law for clergy who commit sexual abuse. Appoint a liaison, a trusted Vatican representative who will work directly with survivors and legal experts to craft the right policy language.
Set a timeline for reform.
Because time, for survivors, is not a luxury. Every delay is another betrayal. The pope acknowledged the enormity of the problem and the need for systemic solutions. That in itself was progress. But listening is only the first step. Change happens when compassion becomes codified. The Catholic Church has 1.4 billion followers across every continent. It cannot preach equality in faith but practice inequality in justice. In the United States, bishops adopted a zero-tolerance policy in 2002, and it has helped.
But why should that protection stop at borders?
A child in Kampala deserves the same safety as a child in Boston or Buenos Aires. A nun in Nigeria deserves the same protection as one in Rome. This is not a Western issue. It is a global issue, and it demands a global law. ‘Faith without accountability is broken.’ Zero tolerance is not anti-Church. It’s pro-children. It’s pro-justice. It’s pro-truth. Pope Leo has an opportunity to restore moral credibility to a Church that has spent decades struggling under the weight of scandal and secrecy. He can choose to make this era different , to move from apologies to action, from silence to statute.
Because survivors don’t need more meetings. We need measurable change. ‘The times when a Pope could say one sentence and everything was settled are over,’ one of my fellow advocates said. And he’s right. Accountability now requires structure, not statements. To survivors still afraid to speak: you are not alone. To the faithful who feel torn between belief and betrayal: your voice matters. To Church leaders still hesitant about zero tolerance: compassion and consequence can coexist. We don’t want to destroy the Church, we want to help it heal.
When the Church finally protects the most vulnerable, it will rediscover the moral authority it has lost. And when it codifies zero tolerance into canon law, it will prove that repentance is more than ritual – it’s responsibility. When I looked at Pope Leo, I didn’t see a miracle worker. I saw a man standing at the intersection of history and healing. And I told him what I tell the world now:’ Hope is not the end of our story – it’s the beginning of our next fight.’
Because protecting children is not a request. It’s a commandment.