There’s a name you need to learn if you don’t already know it. Gisèle Pelicot. Just a small grandma, living in an even smaller town in France. For almost a decade, she was unknowingly given sedatives by her husband, who raped her while she was unconscious, and invited over 80 men to come in and do the same. The horror is not something I can convey in words. There is no me-too for this. I pray there never will be. And perhaps because of the actions of Madame Pelicot, we will be closer to putting an end to such violence. 

She waived her right to anonymity and a trial behind closed doors.  In doing so, she placed the shame where it has always belonged: on the perpetrators – the rapists. The trial attracted worldwide media attention, and Gisèle’s willingness to speak out on behalf of all victims of sexual assault won her widespread support and admiration. She is someone’s Grandma Elsie. And needs to be known. How do we honor her? I think maybe in the same way that she has stood, the way that she stands, with grace, with dignity. 
I give thanks for my grandma daily. For my mother, by the minute. You know their names. Elsie. Ivy. And now we know hers — Merci, Gisèle.