Case 1: The Marquise of O. – Germany, 1800

In a northern Italian fortress, the unthinkable happens: while Russian troops storm the city, a young widow, the Marquise of O., is almost the victim of an assault—until a Russian officer, Count F., seemingly heroically rescues her. A few days later, he disappears without a word. Everything seems to be over. Weeks later, she is horrified to discover that she is pregnant. With no memory. Without consent. And with no one to believe her – a scandal is brewing. Her father disowns her, her mother remains silent. What seems like a medical miracle becomes a social death sentence. She chooses to go public: a newspaper advertisement. “The father should come forward.” The resolution is as shocking as it is disturbing: it was the savior himself who abused her in a moment of weakness. The case ends in a paradoxical twist: the marquise marries the man who abused her trust. Not out of love, but as the only way to regain control.

Case 2: Franca Viola – Italy, 1966

A different setting, a similar mechanism: 17-year-old Sicilian Franca Viola breaks off her engagement to a young mafioso while he is serving a prison sentence. Shortly afterwards, she becomes engaged to another man, and when her ex-fiancé wants to rekindle their relationship, she refuses. He arranges for her to be kidnapped and rapes her. According to the law, if she marries her tormentor, he will go unpunished and her honor will be restored – a cynical practice known as “marriage for redemption.” But Franca says no. She doesn't want marriage, she doesn't want to be bound by silence, she doesn't want false honor. She reports him—and wins. He is convicted. Her decision shakes the patriarchal system in Italy and, years later, leads to the abolition of the “marriage decree” laws.

Case 3: Gisèle Pelicot – France, 2024

Avignon. A woman, drugged and abused – repeatedly, by over 50 men. Orchestrated by her then-husband. For years, he kept her captive in a hellish environment, documenting the acts on video and “inviting” other men to join him. But Gisèle Pelicot breaks her silence – radically. She insists that the trial not take place behind closed doors. She goes public, with her name and her face. The gruesome videos are shown in the courtroom – not to humiliate her, but to make the perpetrators feel ashamed. Gisèle says: “I didn't want to be a victim. I wanted them to have to hide – not me.” She becomes an icon in the fight against sexual violence. Her determination changes the narrative – from the shamed to the accuser. Three women. Three centuries. And yet the same patterns: violence. Silence. Blame reversal. But also: resistance. Voice. Change. Whether fictional like the Marquise, legal like Viola, or real and present like Pelicot—they all tell us what happens when women no longer remain silent. When they leave the space of shame—and force the perpetrators into it.