For the Record
For the record I believe in the Golden Rule.
For the record I arrived in France in September 2015 with no money but plenty of work lined up.
For the record I have never had sex for money, nor ever been an escort.
For the record, so insidious is the discrimination poor women face that people often somehow assume I am a sex worker.
For the record I am a queer bisexual intellectual and activist (fuck labels), which adds to the volume of violence and discrimination I experience.
For the record I am a survivor of several experiences of sexual violence.
For the record I have never done speed, coke, heroin, LSD, meth or any hard drugs. Not that there’s anything wrong with such experimentation. Feel free to test my blood, my hair, whatever if you want.
For the record I spent most of my childhood in a small two bedroom apartment in Berwyn, IL until we had to move because of gang activity on our street and break-ins.
For the record my need-based financial aid for going to college left me with under $20,000 student loan debt upon graduation. My life has, in large part, been determined by the financial lot of my family.
For the record both my parents lost their jobs during the economic crisis and I have been scapegoated in multiple ways throughout the past several years.
For the record in November 2014 I started trying to find therapy for PTSD and multiple experiences of trauma but have persistently been denied such care; yet several French individuals without any training whatsoever in the field of psychology have denigrated me by pathologizing me, “diagnosing” me (again without any training in psychology), and even sadistically abusing me, all the while denying me minimal mental health care.
For the record I applied to the University of Paris Sorbonne-Nouvelle in July and was rejected solely on the basis of the fact that I did not have the money for expensive tests and translations of documents (all the implicated academics read English).
For the record I was admitted into the Master 1 Études de genre et littératures francophones on October 19th, 2015.
For the record never once did any personnel ever make sure I would be able to catch up or register for classes.
For the record, when I explained my humiliating financial difficulties, the social worker at l’Université de Paris 3 Sorbonne-Nouvelle said “as long as you haven’t paid tuition you don’t exist.”
For the record I paid tuition in December 2015 and have suffered innumerable financial consequences.
For the record I prioritized registering for classes after paying tuition and when I went during the marked dates for registration, the relevant office closed twice, I had taken off of work for the sole purpose of registering for classes so this was a heavy blow.
For the record this year in Paris I have been almost constantly bullied and degraded by French individuals, institutions, and “professionals,” despite (or because?) working more than most or all other assistants de langue in France.
For the record I am tired of being denied a modicum of independence or respect, I am tired of being treated like an inferior consciousness, I am tired of misogynist bullshit.
For the record I lived in Oak Park, childhood haunt of Hemingway, from the ages of 2–4.