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To make Mauvaises filles (2022), Emerance Dubas met with around 100 women who had been placed in one or another of the Bon Pasteur institutions before reaching the age of majority (then set at 21) because they were considered disobedient, rebellious, misunderstood, or simply unloved. This practice continued in France until the late 1970s. The director spent seven years completing this invaluable documentary. It was screened in June in Lyon by Femmes Cinéma Égalité, an organization dedicated to showcasing hidden gems: films made by female directors from around the world, films that will never see the light of day in the box office.
Many of the survivors from that era did not want to speak; others were too deeply scarred, both physically and mentally, to relive such painful memories. However, the director never seeks to elicit pity. She takes us on an inner journey by giving voice to three women, Éveline, Cristelle, and Fabienne, who open up simply and frankly for the first time in their lives. This is what moves us so deeply, for this simplicity lends remarkable power to the three interwoven narratives, interspersed with archival footage and views of the sinister institutions where they stayed.
Éveline, 75, returns for the first time to the building in Angers where she spent part of her youth. The institution no longer exists as such, but for centuries, it spread far and wide… there were as many as 400 girls’ boarding schools around the world during the era of French colonial rule. “Just think about it… that means thousands of victims,” comments Éveline, who is now dedicated to finding traces and archives of those who passed through the hands of the “good sisters.”
That’s what they were often called: the “good sisters.” In reality, “they were damned liars,” Cristelle denounces. At a very young age, Éveline was raped by a family member; no one knew about it except the predator. Fabienne, after being raped by her grandfather, tried her best to protect herself from men: when a boy managed to corner her, he forced himself on her, yet she was the one deemed “promiscuous” and sent to the Bon Pasteur.
“Véronique Blanchard convinced me that my testimony was not just a personal story, but a collective truth. A necessity.”
More than half a century later, their words offer a glimpse into a prison-like world where physical violence was a daily occurrence: beatings, being forced to climb stairs on one’s knees, arms outstretched in a cross-like position—all imposed on the entire group of girls who refused to denounce the one who had “misbehaved” according to the religious code of the “good sisters.”
And “that was nothing compared to the psychological violence,” says Fabienne, 70. “We were treated like objects,” remarks Cristelle as she reads the administrative letters from that time, in front of her stunned granddaughter. “Prayer, work, prayer, work… we received no education, and at age 21, we were thrown out onto the street. The first man who made eyes at us was ‘the one.’” The one, or more often, the future pimp.
Testimonies that still resonate today
Fabienne Bichet was present at the screening in Lyon. She recently published a book [1] in which she describes her own journey, one that is chaotic, unique, and inspiring all at once. How does one go from a troubled childhood—her mother abandoned her at birth—to a fairytale? She became a casting director, well-known in the film industry. Her face is reminiscent of Renaissance paintings of the Madonna, framed by a halo of tousled blonde hair. During the discussion that followed the screening, she wore a smile that was at once reserved and radiant, masking the wounds of her turbulent life.
She endured incest, repeated rapes, gang rapes; she was nearly sold as a commodity to Tangier; she underwent an abortion “with needles on a kitchen table”; and in Paris, she nearly died. But her desire to learn and the vigilance with which she observes the world “after having lived in that environment [Le Bon Pasteur] where everything fostered mistrust” have made her an exceptional person. She also readily acknowledges that there were “kind and selfless people who enabled me to become who I am today.”
“The humiliations, the confinement, the guilt—all these invisible forms of violence reflect the plight of these women who are rendered invisible, even today in other countries around the world,” observed one participant during the debate. Fabienne’s words echo this sentiment: “Véronique Blanchard [editor’s note: a historian researching reform schools] convinced me that my testimony was not just a personal story, but a collective truth. A necessity.”
