Liberté, égalité, sororité
A letter from a friend – on France and feminism
Today you will be corresponding with the wonderful Lou Binns from The FBC Paris. Lou is a copywriter and editorial consultant from Bradford, who has been living in France for 15 years. She is the founder of one of Paris’s most exciting feminist communities, The Feminist Book Club.
I had a fascinating conversation with Lou for her podcast last year. She is an all-round force of nature and a very smart cookie. I loved being invited into Lou’s world and am delighted to host her here. Here is her letter:
Dear Friend,
What an honour to write a Pen Friend newsletter. Hannah first popped on my radar through this very Substack and she instantly charmed me with her hilarious but sharp take on France, its culture and its peuple. I have to say, meeting her has been one of those later in life connections that you don’t see coming but welcome with open arms.
So, how did this Yorkshire native end up in Paris? A brief backstory for you…
I’m a recovering boarding school brat, having attended two different music schools in the north and south of England. Piano practice, competing and performing were on heavy rotation, all while living away from home. In sixth form, I applied to both university and music colleges because pursuing a career as a concert pianist felt like a risky and solitary choice. My final call was a French degree at Bristol University and as a lifelong bookworm, I picked mostly literary modules. There were the usual (French) suspects, including Hannah’s beloved Zola, as well as Baudelaire, Flaubert, and Voltaire.
To be totally honest, living in Paris was never a particular ambition or dream of mine. But then in my final year of uni, I met a French man while working on a summer camp in the States. Before you could say cwoissant, I was taking my finals and getting on the Eurostar to Paris, with a lot of luggage and zero thought of healthcare, finding a job, making new friends, and adulting in general.
I arrived with little to no expectations and yet! The city still felt different to the version of Paris that had been impressed upon me. Real-life Parisians were the opposite of friendly. Finding a job was complicated. Men openly harassed women in the street (sadly, not much has changed in that respect.) I felt like a child again, dependent on my boyfriend to help me navigate the newness and feeling so far removed from his fully formed Parisian life.
Now, I laugh (kindly) at my naivety; I seriously expected everything to instantly fall into place? As we know, building a life literally takes a lifetime and setbacks are part of the deal. Sixteen years later, I’m still here and still with my French partner. We own a house together in Montreuil and live with a grumpy but adorable Chartreux cat (Oscar, 6 years old) and a bouncy Golden Retriever (Maggie, 19 months).
“I arrived with little to no expectations and yet! The city still felt different to the version of Paris that had been impressed upon me.”
In 2018, I started The FBC Paris–an international community of readers that focuses on intersectional feminism–with a French friend. It was a pivotal moment in both my feminist evolution and my understanding of French culture. Book club discussions get intimate, and quickly, as we cover topics like sexual assault, abortion, poverty, medical malpractice and racism. Having this safe space feels sacred and it’s been an eye-opener in seeing just how the French patriarchy ticks.
Over the past decade, the chorus of feminist voices in France has gained significant momentum. From the creation of Fondation des Femmes in 2016 and #NousToutes in 2018–collectives that fight against gender-based violence–to Judith Godreche emerging as a pivotal figure in advocating against sexual violence within the French film industry, there is an active dismantling of problematic figures from the not so distant past, as well as patriarchal structures that continue to oppress and endanger women. While French feminist groups may not always see eye to eye, they do agree on one thing; that substantial funding is required for both the prevention and care of women and children affected by patriarchal violence. Frustratingly, it is up to donation-based feminist organisations to supplement state funding.
France had quite the year in 2024. In March, it became the first country ever to write abortion into its Constitution. A huge win! But one step forward, three steps back, right? Towards the end of last year, all eyes were on Gisèle Pelicot and her shocking rape trial. By waiving her right to anonymity, Gisèle Pelicot allowed for the personal and systemic impact of rape culture to take up as much media space as possible. The trial, as well as her insistence on staying firmly in the spotlight, pushed forward the national debate around consent and contributed to dismantling France’s image as a nation of seducers. While some continued to self-pretzel with the #NotAllMen discourse, thousands took to the streets of France to rage against the cultural machine that victim blames and trivializes sexual violence.
France has for too long romanticised incest, pedophilia, and sexual assault under the guise of artistic freedom and intellectualism. Case in point, the French author Gabriel Matzneff, who was heavily supported by the French elite, and his publishing house Gallimard, for decades despite openly talking and writing about his pedophilic acts. His reckoning came far too late (in 2020) when Vanessa Springora’s memoir Consentement (Consent) was published, in which she detailed her abusive relationship with the author when she was 14 years old (he was 50.) He fled to the Italian Riviera while his supporters suddenly dropped like flies. But, fear not, Matzneff managed to land himself a new publishing contract and released a collection of essays in 2022; in his words, a retaliation to “...the ferocious manhunt orchestrated by Vanessa and her pack.” Ah yes, the witch hunt of innocent men by crazy women.
Let’s get back to the Pelicot rape trial and the lasting, positive change that it could have in France. It has put an important reform back on the table; to update the legal definition of rape, following in the footsteps of Spain’s 2022 “yes means yes” consent law.
French law currently defines rape as “any act of sexual penetration of any kind whatsoever, or any oral-genital act committed … by violence, coercion, threat, or surprise.” The last revision of this definition dates back to the 1980s—an update is long overdue. Especially when you consider that the lawyers who defended the 51 men accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot exploited this outdated wording to argue that, because consent isn’t explicitly required from all parties, their clients’ actions weren’t criminal.
While all of the convicted men were found guilty of a range of offenses, there’s no real satisfaction that comes with their conviction. So far, at least fifteen of the rapists have appealed their sentencing. And while national debate around consent has gotten louder, it is hard to truly measure the change in attitude towards consent and rape. The damage done to the whole Pelicot family is certainly irreparable. Gisèle’s daughter, Caroline Darian, is currently unable to speak to her mother, disappointed in Gisèle’s inability to recognise that she may also have been abused or raped by her father. They must rebuild and find peace on their own terms, but separately.
“It’s not us who should feel ashamed, it’s them” — Gisèle Pelicot, in reference to her abusers.”
In terms of my own feminism, it is constantly shifting and evolving. I’m here to learn and listen alongside everyone else. The book club community has definitely given me the confidence to speak up and speak out, especially when it comes to advocating for others.
Fresh off of the Eurostar, I found the French culture of manifestation (protest) to be somewhat disruptive. But now, I see it as an admirable flex, whereby “the people” advocate for their rights. As Hannah said herself in a previous newsletter: ‘Why do they complain when they have it so good?’... but you could also argue that they have it so good because they complain.’
Speaking from experience, it’s incredibly cathartic to march alongside other women and the LGBTQ+ community, as an act of resistance and solidarity. My spirits are always raised when I see The FBC Paris community mobilise around the world for the causes that matter to us as a collective. Last year, I marched with some French friends in the annual #NousToutes protest. It’s always mixed emotions that range from rage and fear to an intense feeling of hope. There is a deep sense of solidarity as I march alongside others who share this fight, reminding me of my strength and purpose. Together, we chant, we laugh, we cry, we sing, and we dance.
“I am not free while any woman is unfree, even when her shackles are very different from my own” — Audre Lorde
Thirty-second feminist book (and more) club
Lou’s recommendations
To break slightly with Pen Friend tradition, I thought it would be nice to share some feminist resources, from books, to podcasts and documentaries, as well as bookshops!
The Mad Women’s Ball by Victoria Mas Set in 19th-century Paris, The Mad Women's Ball explores the lives of women confined to the infamous Salpêtrière asylum, many institutionalized simply for defying societal norms. Together, the women of the novel navigate themes of freedom, oppression, and resilience in a world that seeks to silence them.
Nos pères, nos frères, nos amis by Mathieu Palain Journalist and author Mathieu Palain investigates the roots of male violence, particularly domestic violence. Over four years, Palain immerses himself in the world of men convicted of violent acts—attending group therapy sessions, court hearings, to shed light on how violence is learned, internalised, and perpetuated.
Happening by Annie Ernaux Nobel Prize-winning author Annie Ernaux delivers a powerful, unflinching account of her personal experience with abortion in 1960s France, at a time when the procedure was illegal. Written with Ernaux’s signature precision and candor, Happening is both a deeply intimate memoir and a stark social commentary on the control of women’s bodies.
Violette and Co is a renowned feminist and LGBTQ+ bookstore in Paris, celebrated for its dedication to feminist, lesbian, and LGBTQ+ literature. First established in 2004, it changed location and ownership in 2022, and now includes a café and an area for community events.
Les mots à la bouche is an iconic LGBTQ+ bookshop that first opened its doors in 1980. Today, it remains a vital cultural hub, offering a wide selection of French and English books, hosting events, and serving as a meeting point for LGBTQIA+ individuals and allies in Paris.
Une famille is a 2024 autobiographical documentary directed by French author Christine Angot. The film delves into Angot's personal history of sexual abuse by her father, an ordeal she has previously explored in her literary work, notably in her 1999 novel L'Inceste.
Un podcast à soi is a documentary-style podcast that explores a wide range of topics related to feminism, gender equality, and social justice. Hosted by journalist Charlotte Bienaimé, each episode blends personal testimonies, expert interviews, and cultural analysis to offer a deeply reflective, inclusive, and empathetic look at the lived experiences of women and marginalized communities, both in France and globally.
There’s a real sense of achievement in having built a home for myself in Paris. Most of the people I love and care about are here too, and they play a huge part in shaping how I experience the city. For anyone who has chosen to live in Paris—whether for a short stint or something more permanent—there’s an unspoken bond. We all get it: the unique mix of frustration and pleasure that comes with living here, no lengthy explanations needed.
Looking at my friendships today, I’m proud to say they’re a motley crew—fellow expats, book club friends from all over, non-Parisian French people, and two prized Parisiennes in the mix. For now, I can’t imagine being anywhere else. France is where I learned how to be a fully functioning adult.
Bisous,
Lou
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