Last year, France watched in disbelief as the Pelicot case ripped open its conscience.
In a case that shook France and the world, what happened to Gisèle Pelicot is a mirror of rape culture. A grandmother in her 70s, she discovered that her husband of 50 years had been secretly drugging her. Then filming her and inviting dozens of men—over eighty in all—to rape her while she was unconscious. He called it “sharing.” The men on trial tried to call it “sex.” But the court called it what it was: rape.
The case shocked France. But it should have changed France…and the rest of the world. Has it?
The Lone Appeal is the Epitome of Rape Culture
This month, one of those men, Husamettin Dogan, was the only convicted rapist to appeal his sentence. His assault was recorded on video. His victim was drugged. Yet standing before a French appeals court, Dogan claimed he wasn’t a rapist. He insisted that what he did was merely a “sex scene.”
Let that sit: a man watched himself rape an unconscious woman on camera. Then still argued that it was just performance art. This is the absolute epitome of rape culture. Even though it was on video for the world to see, it wasn’t rape, it was a “scene.”
Fortunately, (and almost surprisingly in today’s rape culture), the judges rejected his defense. They then added a year to his sentence, bringing it to a total of ten years. Although it is mostly a symbolic victory for justice, that symbolism is important in a world that too often enables denial as defense. And just as importantly, it shows that courts can declare that unconsciousness isn’t consent (looking at you, “how many drinks did she have” defense argument).
What Happened to Gisèle
The details are horrific. For over ten years, Gisèle was repeatedly drugged into unconsciousness by her husband, Dominique Pelicot. Dominique then advertised her availability on social media, with full description that she’d be unconscious. The perps were aware that she was asleep (often snoring). They also knew that Dominique was filming them like a deranged director., He ultimately received 20 years in prison. But over fifty men joined him in this human horror show. Some were strangers. Some were actually men that knew her…and still went through with it.
Gisèle didn’t know any of this until the police contacted her. In an unrelated incident, they caught her husband upskirting (taking pictures of women beneath their skirts in public). Then subsequently stumbled upon the evidence of the attacks on her on his phone. They contacted her and had to show her what her husband had done to her.
In fact, she’d been to the doctor a number of times over the years because she’d had memory issues. Issues that were side effects of the drugs that her husband had been slipping into her drinks. Gisèle has actually remained the court room while the videos played, with bravery that borders on superhuman. But France hasn’t yet matched her courage.
UPDATE: Mme Pelicot’s book is available, telling of her horrific experiences and her message of hope for all victims: A Hymn to Life: Shame Has to Change Sides. Please invest in it if your budget allows.
The Post-#MeToo Stall
After #MeToo, there was hope that cases like this would be relics of a bygone era. Women began to believe that if the unthinkable happened, society would stand with them. (Read our article about The Courage of Cassie and Gisele Pelicot.)
But instead, we have the #MeToo hangover—public awareness without structural change. France, like most of the world, has rewritten its press releases but not its playbook. Because the truth is, progress has stalled. It’s stalled because it threatens a rape culture so normalized that so many can’t recognize it for what it is.
Convictions for sexual assault have ticked up slightly, but disbelief, denial, and delay are still baked into the system. Survivors are still forced to prove their trauma. Men still get to reframe their violence as “sex.”
The Pelicot case was supposed to mark another turning point. But instead, it’s proof that the cultural immune system is still compromised — that we haven’t yet learned to recognize violence against women –even when it brings video receipts.
Even France Hasn’t Changed
If #MeToo was supposed to be a global turning point, France missed the memo.
Even after the Pelicot convictions—where fifty-one men were found guilty of raping a drugged and unconscious grandmother—there’s been little measurable progress. As BBC News recently reported, efforts to strengthen laws on consent and sexual violence have stalled. Survivors are still silenced, cases are still collapsing, and powerful men are still not being held accountable.
For a country that prides itself on liberty, France remains alarmingly tolerant of coercion cloaked in respectability.
And that’s what makes this so much bigger than France. The same pattern exists everywhere — from Paris to Portland. Awareness without accountability. Outrage without overhaul.
The “Meh” Problem
Most women who read about this case felt horror—but not surprised. We’ve all seen how easily predators hide behind social norms and semantic gymnastics.
But the reaction of most men that we’ve spoken to? Meh.
“Never heard of it.” “Awful story, but not my business.” That shrug is the quiet rot that allows systemic violence to persist. Because if it’s only “those men,” then no one has to look in the mirror.
That’s how fifty-one men justified what they did. That’s how one could still call it a “sex scene” a year later. And that’s how cultures normalize atrocities—one dismissive “meh” at a time.
It Isn’t Just “Over There”
Before anyone pats themselves on the back and says, well, that’s France, let’s be honest: it could just as easily have happened here in the United States. In fact, it does happen here—routinely.
Every year, American courts hear cases of women drugged, filmed, and violated by men who still insist the victim “looked like she was enjoying it.” And we continue to see plea deals that reduce rape to “non-consensual contact.” We see judges worrying more about the rapist’s “future” than the victim’s past. So no, it isn’t just a French story. It’s a mirror.
The Dangerous Language of Denial
Dogan’s “sex scene” defense isn’t a fluke. It’s part of a global script:
- Reframe the act: It wasn’t rape—it was passion, confusion, or misunderstanding.
- Shift the blame: The husband planned it. She didn’t resist.
- Minimize the harm: She doesn’t remember it, so what’s the damage?
It’s the same tired narrative women have been fighting for generations: that rape is negotiable if the perpetrator finds the right words. Language matters. Because when we let men rename their crimes, we participate in their cover-up.
Beyond Symbolism
Adding one year to a rapist’s sentence isn’t justice—it’s punctuation. But it’s something, which is a start. And it reminds us that courts can still (occasionally) recognize truth, even when culture lags behind.
What we need now is infrastructure that matches that moral clarity:
- Training for judges, prosecutors, and police on coercion and chemical submission.
- Dedicated medical and forensic teams for drug-facilitated assault.
- Public education campaigns redefining consent, incapacitation, and accountability.
Justice isn’t just a verdict—it’s a system that prevents the next victim from becoming a headline.
The Lesson
What happened to Gisèle Pelicot isn’t about one monstrous husband or over fifty complicit men. It’s really about a rape culture that keeps asking the wrong questions: Was she conscious? Was she clear? Was it really rape?
When men still get to argue semantics after raping an unconscious woman, we’re not in a post-#MeToo world. We’re just in a rebranded one.
Because until silence stops being the social default and empathy stops being gendered, every country is France.
Yet truth, once seen, can’t be unseen. Every woman who speaks out becomes a small beacon — proof that even in a culture built to obscure her, the light still gets through.
We invite your voice
Stories like this remind us how far we still have to go in predator accountability—and how change can start anywhere.
If you’ve seen progress where you live, or you’re working to make it happen, we’d love to hear from you.
Drop us an email. Your perspective helps shape what we teach next.
— Laura & Joy, Street Smart Safety for Women