This is a comment about this post on lindaleith.com

I’ve never been a fan of Tout le Monde en Parle, the talk show designed to squeeze its guests in a corner and confess their sins, for the few times I saw it on my friends or family’s TV set. They think it’s a good show, my friends and family. To me, it’s like being at a party where someone drunk insists on telling “the truth” about your uncle’s sex life.

As it would certainly become the center of Quebecers’ attention for a few days, drawing comments from everyone, I initially refrained from adding my point of view. It would be among the minority, easily squashed by the brash voices that would be quick to blame the victim. Many people would resent the implied reproach that they need to be politically correct, or at the very least polite.

I read La Honte, initially in admiration of her ability to write down her feelings. I learned that she had discussed with her agent why she should take this opportunity, yet she knew they would destroy her. She went to Holt Renfrew to get a black designer dress. Then I saw the excerpt on youtube, heard her inability to articulate as a sign of distress, if not of having taken a Valium just a minute ago. The questions were, as one can only expect from Guy A. Lepage, about things she had said before, preferably of the kind that identified her as a sex-crazed young woman. She tried to hint she wanted to talk about the book. He reads from the cards in his hand as if it were a tricked poker game. One unfamiliar with the style of this program would call him a very bad interviewer, unable to adapt to the interviewee’s state of mind, unable to put her at ease and bring the best of her. He probably didn’t read the book. In a few minutes she was like a doe thrown into a lion’s den. Apparently, that’s what makes this program attractive to viewers. Everybody goes home happy, because they have a glass of wine at the end. Except for the woman bringing the wine, who, it is pointed out, is breast-feeding. Yes, you read that right, “toi t’en prends pas, tu allaites,” sounds so much better than letting her choose to symbolically hold a glass and take a small sip of it.

You know that on the game show Jeopardy, they will give a smaller contestant a pedestal to make them appear more even. Ms. Arcan on Tout le Monde en Parle sat, in her Dolce e Gabana décolleté, next and below a tall man not even dressed well. No booster seat for her. This is not Jeopardy where fairness is de rigueur. And so the issue of the dress is raised, in the way only a bunch of men at a tavern could joke about, being embarrassed (read: turned on) by the situation, accusing her of being provocative as, it is pointed out, nobody in this studio is. Nobody in this studio wears a Dolce e Gabana black dress. In La Honte, she alludes to les gars de la construction, the construction workers who’ll spot a pretty woman from their perch up on a beam and make sure she knows their primitive reaction. In the studio, her tall neighbor looks and talks like a construction worker. I’m having a semiotic trip. Nelly Arcan, with La Honte, reawakens the feminist discourse with the general public, and it couldn’t have happened without her courageous appearance on Tout le Monde en Parle.