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MEN DON’T CRY
chapter ii - dounia
Translated by Sarah Ardizzone
D
uring her teenage
years, Dounia had
a best friend: Julie
Guérin. That was when the
troubles began. Julie set in
motion the psychological
process of my sister ’s
‘
Christine-isation’.
Julie was popular with all the
boys at the lycée: she was
skinny, wore designer clothes
and kept a diary. Her parents
sent her to summer camp in
the Languedoc-Roussillon. Her
mum let her go to night-time
concerts and pin up posters of
an American boy band in her
bedroom. I don’t remember
the singers’ names, but they
were black and bare-chested.
Julie also had platform shoes,
a boyfriend, a cat, a bedroom
she didn’t share with anybody
else, and she got to throw
parties in her dad’s garage on
her birthday.
AsfarasDouniawasconcerned,
Julie was living the dream.
My sister was mesmerised
by this, to the point that she
was happy to play the-friend-
in-the-shadows, the one who
gets told: “Hey! Look after my
bag!”
I should point out that my
sister’s life was the exact
opposite of Julie Guérin’s.
Dounia wore a brace for
the three years she was at
the lycée, as well as a pair
of glasses. She didn’t know