Trafika Europe 12 - French Bon-Bons

Who You Think I Am

“ended up in,” if I can actually be said to have moved in the last two, um, three years— is it two and a half years?— that I’ve been here. Or maybe when you say “we” you mean a more general they-we-you? Us all? We , the institution. We , the specialists. We , society. How did we manage to get into a situation where this woman here present is still living at public expense, where she hasn’t accepted her duties, her obligations, her productivity, or should that be reproductivity? So that in her later years she’ll be fed, housed, cared for, and given medical care by us rather than doing what she’s certainly still capable of doing for the community? Where did we fuck up? Is that your question? I taught. Pretty taut I got too, sometimes. At university, yes, comparative literature. Senior lecturer. I was about to get my professorship. This they-we-you of yours were about to promote me, to allow me into the wonderful world of mandarins. At forty-seven, they-we-you could say that I was a role model for women, you know there’s still a ridiculously low proportion of women in higher positions. And then bang! What a drag! They lock me up, they cross-examine me, and, till now, they keep me here. Will you keep me here, Marc? Will you keep me near you? I’m useless here, I’m not making my contribution to society. I’m deceased in the purest sense of the word, I’ve ceased to be. Yes, that ’s it, I’m no longer operational, I’ve

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