I ran into Gisèle Pelicot by chance in Paris and, although this is not a journalistic scoop, it was a fortunate moment on a personal level, because I had the incredible opportunity to thank her in person, looking her in the eyes. This woman, who for me is a superhero, looked at me with surprise but also warmth, holding my hands as I told her that we admire her and are grateful for everything she has done for all of us.
Until 2020, Gisèle Pelicot was an ordinary woman, a mother and grandmother, living with her husband in their home in southern France, which they had chosen as the refuge of their life after retirement. She had friends, a social life, traveled to Paris to see their grandchildren, and in the summer she happily welcomed them to their house in Mazan, proudly watching them dive endlessly into the swimming pool in their garden. Her husband of 50 years took care of her; he was generous, kind and attentive to her and to their friends, whom they often invited over for dinner. It was the kind of life you might see in an advertisement for the “silver economy.” Until the day police revealed to her, in November 2020, things that defy human comprehension.
For ten years, her husband had been drugging her without her knowledge, raping her, and organizing and filming more than 200 rapes of her by around 70 men — although 50 of them have been identified.
At that moment, this ordinary woman saw her life and her family fall apart. Devastated, she moved forward: she went through the investigative process, read the defendants’ testimonies, and examined all the evidence. In her interview with the French magazine ELLE in February, she spoke about the day she decided to watch the videos. A few months before the trial, she decided that she did not want it to take place behind closed doors, which meant she had to watch the scenes of her ordeal alone so that they would not crush her in the courtroom.
Outside the courtroom, from the beginning of the trial in September 2024, hundreds of women formed a protective circle around her every day. After a long trial, at the end of December 2024, Pelicot’s husband was convicted and sentenced to 20 years in prison, while the other 50 defendants — the men who raped her — were also found guilty. The women outside the courthouse, and women across the world, breathed a sigh of relief.
“The more the story spread, the more people said that I could not have been completely passive… that the woman could not have been completely innocent.”
The relief we felt was not empty air. Thanks to the strength and courage of Gisèle Pelicot — and the global attention the case received — the French National Assembly approved a change to the legal definition of rape a few months ago so that sex without consent is considered rape. The country is also moving toward the legal abolition of the concept of “marital duties” (devoir conjugal), in order to put an end to rape within marriage and make it clear that marriage does not imply a sexual obligation.
Ms. Pelicot survived not only the rapes but also the toxic doubt and suspicion that abuse victims often face. In her book*, released on 17 February, she writes: “The more the story spread, the more people said that I could not have been completely passive… that the woman could not have been completely innocent.” If this woman — who had thousands of videos and photographs proving the guilt of her rapists — could still be questioned, we all know the shame that is placed on women who report rape, most of whom do not have such overwhelming evidence and must fight in police stations and courtrooms to prove their abuse.
With the phrase that has now become a global slogan, I said goodbye to her on the Pont des Arts, after telling her that we are all waiting for her in Greece.
“You, Mrs. Pelicot, made shame change sides.”
However awkward the International Women’s Day sometimes makes me feel — especially the various ways in which it is “celebrated” — I go back to those women who made it possible for us today to discuss and fight for these issues, and I find again the meaning of the day. Gisèle Pelicot already belongs to that category of women.
*Her book was published in French by Flammarion under the title Et la joie de vivre and in Greek as Hymn to Life by Psychogios.
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