Tell me about your first act of resistance – or one of the firsts.
Wait, let me go down memory lane. Oh yes! I was very young. I was in the fourth grade and we were preparing a dictation about a picture. In the picture, a man was coming back from the field with his three wives behind him. The text used the masculine form of “they” (from the French grammar rule that makes “ils”, the masculine form of “they”, the default plural personal pronoun instead of “elles”, the feminine form) to refer to the three characters, but I was sure that it should have used the feminine “they” since there were several women and only one man. I was not yet aware of this inequality even in the French language.
I said to my teacher, “Sir, I don’t think it’s right to use ‘ils’.” I was shocked by his response: “the masculine always dominates over the feminine; even if it were a newborn boy with ten women, it would still be ‘ils’”. I stubbornly told him that it was not normal and not logical. We argued a bit, but it wasn’t going to change anything. But it remains my first memory of resistance.
There’s no small act of resistance! Let’s go back to when you were 17. You said it was a time full of doubt; was it time for resistance too?
Yes, because when I asked questions, I also took the actions that went with them. I asked questions, and when I was not satisfied with the answers or the silences, I took the actions that would allow me to understand for myself. That way, for sure, I would find answers. When I questioned religion, I changed my religion. When I questioned sexuality, I practiced sexuality. When I questioned if a girl should stay home, I started leaving the house.
My resistance was the result of my questioning. I needed answers. Instead of giving me answers, the religious and family system I was in gave me only broad principles: “Do this, that’s what is right. You don’t have to think.”
It wasn’t enough for me to be told, “Fire burns, so don’t go near the fire”. I thought, “I’m going to go near the fire, so I’ll know how badly I’ll get burned”. I wanted to do my experiments and find out for myself what it was really like.
When you look around, do you see the impact of your resistance? Do you think it changed something?
Yeah, I think so. I may be a bit self-centered, but I think so haha! Whenever a person visits my blog, reads its content, shares it, or comments on it (even to critique it), it is impactful to me. It means that we exist.
Particularly, every queer woman who feels represented, seen, heard, or who finds herself in a sincere, healthy, and welcoming space…that’s also a huge impact. As long as my action helps a single person, it is impactful for me. Because this person will change someone else and so on. It’s the creation of a solidarity chain that comes from what I’ve done.
