Y’en a Marre By Olivia Hamant
When Elizabeth Warren says: “I’m just really tired of this world,” I understand her frustration because I too am fed up and angry that in today’s world, in the country where I live that has a rich history of standing up for social injustices, women continue to be belittled, discriminated against in the workplace, denied equal pay, and dismissed when they speak up about sexual harassment and assault. The #MeToo movement has fortunately made some serious strides in correcting the latter especially in the US where the fallen producer, Harvey Weinstein, was convicted this year of rape. But somehow that momentum hasn’t ignited in France, the country I’ve called home for the last ten years.
So when I walk down the street in the posh 7th arrondissement where men in business suits sitting at outdoor cafés, their espressos in hand, shamelessly ogle my body as if it where something to be appraised, I want to shout: “Stop! Y’en a marre!” But instead of “enough already,” I walk on silently, my cheeks burning and my eyes avoiding theirs at all costs. I am angry at myself for feeling ashamed and for lacking the courage to shame them in turn for objectifying me. But I am angry too at France and my French ‘education’ which fails to socialize girls to speak up, speak out of turn, speak in any way that might be deemed impolite. And just as importantly, fails to teach boys the true meaning of respect. No, you aren’t the center of the world and no, if you haven’t noticed, girls are not here to please. Of course, this isn’t unique to France, but it remains a serious problem and therein lies the real problem. Why is it, that in a modern, open and democratic society where women make up close to 50% of the workforce, they continue to pay the steep price to their self-esteem and their physical and emotional well-being?
Prevailing and deep-seated sexist attitudes may explain in part why the #MeToo movement and similar movements like #BalanceTonPorc and Ni Putes Ni Soumises have been sidelined in France. Indeed, a recent New York Times article by Elian Peltier: Adèle Haenel: France ‘Missed the Boat’ on #MeToo highlights this paradox. The French actress, Adèle Haenel, daringly spoke out about the sexual harassment she experienced while on set at the age of 12 by the director Christophe Ruggia. But why use the adverb ‘daringly’? This implies that it is risky for girls and women to denounce men who abuse their power. Haenel indeed confirms this: “We have nothing to gain from coming forward as a victim, and the consequences on our private life are very negative.” Yet, if I am the victim, why should I be further victimized?
I want that to change. It enrages me to think that France fails to encourage girls and women to stand up against men who abuse them. I am frustrated that I am the one ashamed when I walk past men who brazenly stare at me mouths gaping. I want to speak up, but fear holds me back. Fear of a man’s reaction, fear of attracting further undesired attention, fear of calling them out for what they are: repulsive, rude, and disrespectful. I’m tired of the fear. Enough already. I am a strong woman who will do more than lean in in this patriarchal society: je prendrai ma place. Indeed, I will take my seat at the table –– although I’ve been taught to politely wait to be seated.
Hence, we must begin with the way we raise girls in France and teach them to say ‘no’ firmly. We must never shy away as the famed actress, Catherine Deneuve, who openly defended the director Roman Polanski accused of rape multiple times, might encourage us to. On the contrary, let us boldly stand up and walk out, as Haenel recently did at this year’s César’s ceremony when Polanski was awarded the top prize for best director. So French girls like myself need to speak up loudly so they are heard, really heard. Even if it means challenging our French upbringing and running the risk of appearing rude, so be it. After all: “Y’en a marre!”