‘The Gisèle Pelicot trial exposes the insidiousness of rape culture’
[Warning: Sexual assault]
It’s the stuff of nightmares. Since September, the world has sat, slack jawed as the details of one of the most horrifying criminal cases of our time have been picked through in court — the details of a years-long gang rape at the hands of a husband against his wife. But while the orchestrator of Gisèle Pelicot’s heinous abuse, Dominique Pelicot, was counting on her being drugged, immobile, unable to fight back, she has risen from the ashes to become one of the foremost feminist heroines of our time.
For the past two and a half months, Vaucluse criminal court in Avignon, southern France, has been the stage for this remarkable trial. By now we are grimly familiar with the details of the case, but to recap: 71-year-old Dominique stands accused of (and has admitted to, telling the court: “I am a rapist”) using chatrooms to gather at least 83 men to rape his wife Gisèle, 72, over a decade between 2011 to 2020 as she lay drugged and unconscious in her own bed in the sleepy Provencal village of Mazan. He filmed the attacks.
Gisèle had no idea the abuse was taking place, suffering — unbeknownst to her — the effects of this systematic drugging for years, from blackouts to memory losses, and contracting multiple sexually transmitted diseases. It was not until her husband of 50 years was arrested for attempted upskirting that over 20,000 photographs and videos of the abuse were uncovered, hiding in plain sight on a folder on his computer labelled ‘abuse’. Only 50 of the 83 men who appeared in the videos could be identified, and they have been standing trial alongside Dominique in France.
Much has been made of the ‘ordinary’ nature of these defendants: ranging from the ages of 26-74, among them were a nurse, a journalist, a firefighter and a butcher, a number of them are husbands and fathers themselves. Some have admitted to rape, others claim they assumed Gisèle was in on it or that they didn’t know she had been drugged (videos played in court reportedly saw her snoring loudly during the rapes). And while certainly their quotidian jobs, lives and apparent natures add an additional horror to an already unimaginably horrifying crime, this is not what will stand out to so many women who know off-hand that the tropes of the stranger in the alleyway and the scantily clad woman tottering home alone at night really only serve to distract from the truth: that most abuse takes place at the hand of someone known to the victim (90%) and that society continually brushes it aside, questioning what the victim did to encourage or enable it somehow.
Rape culture is infused into the very veins of society, a blood-borne disease that must be called out at every single opportunity until we are red in the face. It has a home in our schools, in our universities, in our police force, fire departments, health service. It is normalised to such a degree that a man standing trial for rape and trafficking women (charges that he denies) is one of the most followed on X (Twitter) and that another, convicted of one sexual assault and accused of numerous others is once again to be leader of the free world. Whether butcher, baker or candlestick maker, sexual predators have repeatedly been shown to be enabled, tolerated and excused. We only have to look at the recent allegations of police and doctors colluding with Mohammad Al-Fayed to aide his abuse of over 60 alleged victims to see that.
It is for this reason that this remarkable grandmother chose to flip the script and waive her right to anonymity in this case. Uttering the now famous words: “When you’re raped there is shame and it’s not for us to have shame, it’s for them.” Instead of allowing the trial to take place behind closed doors, in an astonishing act of bravery, Mme Pelicot decided to prioritise, as she said in her closing statement, her belief that “society at this point need to look at how we trivialise rape” over saving the remaining scraps of her dignity. She described how she is unlikely to “ever feel peace until the end of my life”, and how she will have to live knowing what happened to her. After months of harrowing evidence, Gisèle said “I admit that today I can feel the tiredness”, and we all feel tired with — and for her.
Pelicot’s decision to press the judge to allow videos of her abuse to be shown in open court means we are once again having an international conversation about rape and attitudes to women more widely. On the coattails of this trial, France’s legal definition of rape, which does not include consent, is being questioned.
What we must reflect on in the wake of this case is not its uniquely monstrous details, but how society has created a culture in which forums exist for abusers to gather, organise and act out their sordid fantasies. How 1 in 4 women have been raped or sexually assaulted since the age of 16, and how 98% of perpetrators are male. A culture in which disbelieving women often feels the norm, and where becoming victim to revenge or deepfake porn are legitimate everyday fears for women.
In a message to women everywhere, Pelicot’s son David said: “please, please don’t be afraid to speak out. The omertà is over. We have to speak out.” And while the onus should never be on the victim to speak out, we can hope that, rather than being singled out as a freak incident, awareness is raised that this is one hideous thread in a global tapestry of endemic violence against women.
Indeed, while this case has made headlines for its shocking nature, even here we have seen many of the same old victim-blaming tropes women everywhere face, being repeated. In particular, when Dominique’s defence lawyer questioned during cross-examination why Gisèle hadn’t cried more and challenged her on her choice to retain her marital name. A woman, betrayed by a duplicitous husband without her knowledge for the pleasure of a group of total strangers, expected to carefully curate or consider her own emotional response. The suggestion was further proof of the clichéd idea of the ‘perfect’ victim, reminding us how women are expected to behave in the face of abuse as opposed to the complex reality of trauma. Reminding us that women are expected to assume a man’s name — his identity — in marriage and then, after half a century of it being hers, too, to cast it aside if that man sullies it. To the absurdity of this question, Gisèle had the perfect response: “My name is known across the world now,” she said. “Today we will remember Gisèle Pelicot.” Whatever the enduring impact of this shocking case, that, at least, will always remain true.
If you or anyone you know has been impacted by the details of this article, visit: Rape Crisis England & Wales, Rape Crisis Scotland, or The Rowan (for Northern Ireland). RASASC provides emotional and practical support for survivors, families and friends. For additional support with mental health, visit Mind.
Further support from Cosmopolitan UK:
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