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There is a woman who Gisèle Pelicot is making her way in France. Her name is Gisèle Pelicot and she is doing it by force, literally. She was drugged by her husband for at least a decade and raped by dozens of men that he himself, Dominique Pelicot, brought home, after making contact through networks and forums. Fifty of them have been on trial, along with her husband, since last week in the Vaucluse region, in a case that is making headlines across the continent and reflects the tensions of an era: the advance of the discourse against violence towards women and the reaction of a system that defends itself. Gisèle Pelicot tips the balance.
It is worth dissecting the case and following some of its main threads, because it concentrates some of the defense mechanisms that machismo usually deploys when scandals like the one we are dealing with come to light. Also its antidotes.
The main strategy for protecting oneself is the construction of exceptionality. The most high-profile cases are always those that allow one to single out and stone someone who supposedly deviates from the norm. A beast, an animal, a misfit, a predator. Dominique Pelicot has already been dubbed in the French (and European) media as The Mazan Monsterin reference to the town in which he lives. This allows us to take the bad apple out of the supposedly healthy basket. Making a case exceptional allows us to treat it in isolation from its context, hiding the structural characteristics that make it possible.
And yet, the case has several amendments to this exceptionality in its trunk. Firstly, in contrast to the cliché of the unknown predator lurking in a dark alley, we have a case in which the rapes take place in the peaceful comfort of a home. Secondly, if the husband is a monster, what are the other 50 if not the norm? They are between 26 and 74 years old, have ordinary jobs, ordinary pensions, are parents, grandparents. A string of unremarkable lives. Fifty is too many to try to lock them up by force and in one fell swoop in a zoo of beasts. They are normal people.
So, are all men rapists? Another mechanism has been activated in response to this possibility. A “ Not All Men” more revealing than exculpatory. Many men have felt the need to clarify that they, not all of us, are rapists. Of course not, obviously, but where does this need to get rid of blame come from? Perhaps from the implicit possibility. Not all men are rapists, but we all could be. Thin skins, please refrain. This statement has less to do with the individual characteristics of each of us, but with the system itself in which we live, supported by structural beams that allow, endorse and conceal violence against women. Declaring oneself a non-rapist is the easiest way to navigate the problem without going deeper into it or assuming responsibility.
The Pelicot case, once again, contains the clearest example. It is paradigmatic. For years, Gisèle Pelicot went to doctors complaining of malaise, memory loss, the possibility of Alzheimer’s and venereal diseases. No one raised the alarm, no health worker thought: Something strange is happening here
. There is more. One of the most revealing elements of the case is that, according to Dominique Pelicot himself, three out of ten men to whom he proposed to rape his wife declined the offer. None of them reported the proposal. One can understand that the rapist does not report himself, but what about those who rejected the invitation but remained silent? Because what happened was discovered by chance, when the police searched the accused’s computer for another case and found, without looking for it, evidence of the multiple rapes to which he subjected his wife.
Just as the prevailing model of femininity has its mandates for women, so too does prototypical masculinity have its imperatives for men. One of the main ones is fraternity, a male alliance that calls on us to protect each other. We have a shared socialization aimed at maintaining a system of power. The rapist is not denounced. The law of silence. Whoever does it will be pointed out. Patriarchy is also a prison for men. With many more privileges, of course, but a prison nonetheless.
In the midst of the case, rising above the tensions generated by the evidence of the systematic rape of a woman and the efforts of the system that made it possible to defend itself, stands the imposing figure of Gisèle Pelicot, who has decided to re-signify the role of victim. A brave step. It was she who refused to allow the trial to be held behind closed doors, a measure sometimes taken to protect the privacy of the victim. Now it is the 51 accused who come to court with their heads down, trying to hide their faces. It is Gisèle’s gift, who explained her decision thus: Shame must change sides
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