We are all whores

En français ici (lien)

Violence against women is not only husbands/companions hitters, burkas... it is also this, here (in France, in the south, in small willages whose nobody cares). For Michelle, whose testimony will follow this one. And for Bernadette Dartus*, whose it will not because she died, here, of this violence, burned alive.

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All is well
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2001. I arrived from Paris to Attuargues in the South of France after a separation with my husband. And, as "Alice in wonderland", I discovers the world (!) the reverse of the mirror. A universe that was unknown to me, I'm lucky in a sense. A series, just because, and that's all, I am a woman. First trouble, a little one, the roof of the house we bought with my ex husband, recently redone! "leaks" water.. such there is a gaping hole in the ceiling of the small bathroom, I am lucky (!), it could have been on the bed. The mason, since retired, refuse any service, another (for there were two) either. He wants me to pay the visit, I refuse, macho slanging. Nobody want to undertake something complicated and not profitable, so I live at this time in a closet in the garden, but dry, praying God it does not rain.
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It is a friend [older than me 20 years, it will be important as we shall see] that finds, it is a gutter clogged of the high roof which pours into force on the lower seemingly intact; he arranges that in three hours... And refuses any compensation, because formerly, I helped him for letters, he magnifies an easy job as (as he says) I magnify his (he was mason).. A nice guy who will help me a lot, although I do not demand anything, at the contrary... becoming increasingly pervasive, omnipresent.. [But later, that "father" putative will try to ask me an "additional benefit" in jumping on me without warning. Balanced against the wall, surprising (!) what a bad character I have (!) he will tell me he is in love with me, (and adds that there are so many women who would be delight to have him, I am lucky.. !) He is a significant man ... Our relationship will end there.] But for now, all is well.
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Until addicts/dealers threats me; they used to squat parking and even my garden, evening desert, an area ideal for transactions. And the policemen (here gendarmes) spend at fixed times, between midnight and a quarter after midnight ! One, already confirmed offender sentenced to two years in prison for assaulting a woman, but who still walk openly in the village (!) threats me hard, trying with two acolytes, in vain, to break my door one night, claiming that he will set fire to my house, I complain, the policemen -gendarmes here because it is a small village- (at this time because it has changed now) make fun of me and often don't even move* or afterwards, after the "battle", and then, yell at me. At the same time, the gus pay all kinds of purchases, including locksmith equipment (!) with a big wad of 100 F, all is normal... projects of "locksmith", a guy condemned who tried to break my door, who does not work, lives with RMI -social aids-, all is well. But I have good childhood friends and finally he will get out,  but not without giving me death threats as usual. Soon after, he will be almost killed in a fight after drinking, he has many enemies (a snitch?) his brain now in stand by ...
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All is well...  but a tenant very preppy, frail, nice, totally unsuspectable, homo, cultivated ... left without paying.. that I found [he lived next without hiding (!)] sends me rounding by a shot in the breast in the middle of the street, by luck, there were no cars. Now, I have understood how it works, I'll have my revenge or rather I shall "get myself justice"... to the great admiration of everybody, even the municipal policeman. Other tenants, equally chic, I will realize that a long time after their departure, have connected a outlet in their room on my own meter, an outlet with they illuminated "a giorno" all their garden! so that, working on it (thinking I have stopped the electricity) I was almost electrocuted.
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Then my father, 84, died. That evening, at Attuargues, overwhelmed, feeling guilty, sitting at the tiny "terrace" -in fact a simple sidewalk- of a small seasonal restaurant, I read the book of condolences.. when a gus, "well" known, especially by police, entering and exiting jail, everytime for the same offenses, assault on women [probably missing insurance (!) he never attacks men] ... assault me, he wanted to rent an apartment, I had refused, he don't like that. He knocks my table slightly, the few customers flee away, frighten, I collect leaves on the ground and file complain to the boss -in fact, I enter to protect me- which gentleman yells on me "get out if you're not happy and don't annoy people who works." The guy had just bought him a pack of beer and, unlike me, he is a villain and a good financial report, the season is short. A state of amok suddenly. No more fear, I go to my car and [...] Everything is arranged, the "terrace" was not too legal, indeed not legal at all; to sell beer also, and at a guy already drunk, it's worse ! ... I am calmed [..] The next day, I am suddenly looked with respect. That is new.
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All is well now, I organize video sessions, it turns.. until one day I see outside a man that I know a little, a Turkish worker without papers, frail, the appearance of a child already old, bent, lost.. and proposes him to enter. He barely speaks French but to see him sitting, moody, benches, a stone's throw from us, is sad.. And at the end of the session, while I tidy the room, he jumps on me as to rape me. A slap. He had misunderstood. A mistake. All is well.

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But there is St Gudule, my home village where my house is demolishing by the care of a small significant developer who wanted to create a housing complex but was denied to rebuild, the area is flooded, a political plot he says. Yes, but a wall, a stone monument ten meters high (!) comes off on a public place! I asked, begged him at least to put "safety legs".. but he refuses, and tells me firmly it is totally useless, he will rebuild soon. One month, two, six .. Finally it is the elections and his son ("left" he said) that passes ... Again, exhortations, nothing moves, the danger now is iminent, (my three soils will collapse soon after) and finally... A trial, fast, he is sentenced to rebuild at his own expense. Ouahhh ! I am saved, but I brushed the cat, (almost disaster) not having the means to reconstruct or to demolish. Thank's god.

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All is well.. except that the mason, good fellow of the promoter (says "the king") does what he wants without and against my will, after all, it is not me who pays so I just have to shut up and say thank you. Point. I then stops the site (hardly), he wanted to enter by force (!) as I supposed he will do, but stopped seeing my dog I have taken with me on this purpose.. everything is well, finally after a judicial negotiation during which the young lawyer I had commissioned and payed does not say a word, I obtain  damages, as well as the neighbour, a guy whose house was also demolished but less than mine. All is more than well.

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... except that the guy I had defended... attacks me straightaway in justice (!) .. for a little local mine he pretends his.. and was sent back ! Thank's god, I again came close to disaster. This disturbs me a little, a friend (or rather an "obliged") all the same ! ... But the result is that this story is so enormous that it becomes comical, and more and more people follow the adventures of the series, right and left together, and support me warmly.
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All is well .. until my account was seized by order of the City for a water bill of 4000 E for two months (an Olympic swimming pool!).. in this house exactly ! an house I have never lived, of course ! I do an hunger strike for six days to mediate the case.. during which a showman, watching me for a long time.. proposes me squarely.. what you imagine, (to bed with him) well priced should I say, he used prostitute and I please to him (?!) A nice career is offered for me, a little late though. A joke? Maybe, maybe not. For media issue, it works but, as I thought, for the city, not : "they" don't budge. I attack to justice, "they" are dragging, reports on reports, then obtain a negotiation that gives me reason, "they" refused, return to the starting point, still reports, a trial that gives me reason also, "they" apeal, reports, etc.. 3 years.

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Conclusion: being woman and "alone" (ie no boyfriend or siblings) in some places, is a situation, I weigh my words, deadly. Rich, poor, philosophers, above ground, all we suffer exactly the archetypal fate of prostitutes: after having been gently pushed to the abyss, and under the threat of sinking us further again, attempting to extort us various benefits depending on the situation [existing or raised] and of our possibilities: complacency or subjection, or in the more general case, sex, money or both .. As for those who can not or can no longer be used, in bag and plop in Cèze -the river-: depression, suicide-.. But the writers of these scenarios are not outlaws with gun expected in the casting, they are in-the-law, kind, bourgeois, significant, with family buttonhole. Sometimes with a band where some women dance also, for a few crumbs or just for fun. We are all whores, indeed, that is to say treated as such. Victims. 

Coming a book of several witnesses, this case is neither unique and nor the worst.  

* In the same situation, recently, near Nîmes, a woman, Bernadette Dartus, who had called the police several times in vain this evening (they have not taken her seriously, may be laughed at her as they did for me) because her neighbors (addicts) threatened her to death, was burned alive. 


Balance-sheet for me : 3 physical assaults whose one serious, 2 sexuals assaults (minor), and a judicial harassment from notables because I found myself in the wrong place at the wrong time.. and above all in the wrong gender. All that just because a woman.