A Decade After the Nassar Scandal, Gymnasts Say Change Has Been Too Slow

Ten years after the abuse by former USA team doctor Larry Nassar came to light, survivors and advocates say the pace of change in gymnastics has been far too slow. Nassar's 2018 conviction sparked a global reckoning in the sport, yet gymnasts say they are still being let down.

A decade ago, the Indianapolis Star published allegations of sexual abuse by Nassar, the former team doctor for USA Gymnastics. Hundreds of women came forward with their own allegations against Nassar, who also worked at Michigan State University, leading to his conviction and jailing.

The exposure of his crimes prompted a wider investigation into how gymnastics had allowed predators to abuse young athletes around the world. While Nassar was the worst recorded case, many other countries had questions to answer about failures to protect athletes not only from sexual but also from physical and emotional abuse.

This week, with the World Gymnastics Championships taking place at Rotterdam's Ahoy Arena, survivors and advocates gathered on a large houseboat moored three tram stops away to raise fears about the slow pace of change.

The impact of the Nassar case was seismic, not least because Judge Rosemarie Aquilina allowed his victims to have their say in her courtroom. Across seven days, 169 people delivered brave, emotionally charged testimonies. Aquilina sentenced him to up to 175 years in jail, with other federal and state convictions making a total of 300 years to life.

Aquilina says that when victims speak publicly, you see them shed their pain and stand taller. At first she had a list of maybe a dozen names who wanted to speak; then it was 20, then 30, then 80 and 100 and beyond. One girl empowered the next — it was the beginning of their healing, because in a safe space they finally felt heard and believed, able to tell him to his face: you hurt me, I am not a number, I am a name.

Among those who spoke were Olympic gold medallist Aly Raisman, excoriating in blaming USA Gymnastics for enabling Nassar; fellow gold medallist Jordyn Wieber; Olympic bronze medallist Jamie Dantzscher; and former US national champion Mattie Larson. The mother of Maggie Nichols, the athlete who first complained about Nassar, read a powerful statement on her behalf. Simone Biles, the most famous gymnast of her generation, revealed on social media that she was a victim and later testified before the US Senate Judiciary Committee.

Two years after the sentencing, a documentary named after Nichols, Athlete A, shone a spotlight on the traditional coaching system of compliance, fear and silence — and how it allowed Nassar to operate. The film opened the global floodgates.

Kim Shore, who was a gymnast in Canada in the 1980s and experienced all forms of abuse as well as joy, later sat on the board of Gymnastics Canada. The Nassar case, she says, floored her with the realisation that she was not a bad kid or a bad gymnast — the mistreatment was endemic. Yet the organisation's reaction was, in her words, absolutely lacking; she wept watching the victims testify and urged fellow board members to watch too, though she does not believe any of them did.

Eloise Jotischky, 23, who late last year won the first civil case against British Gymnastics for the abuses she suffered, says the film let her articulate what she had been through. She describes the sport's culture as a closed, isolated system — athletes pulled out of school, removed from friends, travelling constantly — with strong parallels to a coercively controlling relationship, made more serious because the athletes are children owed a duty of care.

Former British gymnast Claire Heafford founded Gymnasts for Change, and as head of its international arm brought the advocates and survivors together in Rotterdam. Athlete A, she says, showed the world that gymnastics was a coercively controlling environment built on control and power — one that almost everybody in it had experienced and many had almost believed was necessary.

The case triggered reports and measures in the US: the FBI acknowledged its handling was inexcusable, and Congress established the US Center for SafeSport, an organisation that has since faced heavy criticism. USA Gymnastics went through four presidents in less than two years, said it would adopt 70 recommendations from an independent report, and set up an Athlete Bill of Rights. It now says athlete safety has been its top priority since a new board and leadership arrived in 2018-19, with safeguarding training required for all adult members.

Yet the survivors' central question remains: after a decade of sentences and reforms on paper, how much has the culture actually changed on the ground? The message from Rotterdam is clear — many gymnasts believe the change is still far slower than they were promised.