EXCLUSIVE: Sexual assault survivor says remigration ‘only serious long-term solution’ for women’s safety
‘When the fear of being called racist becomes stronger than the duty to protect women and children, something is deeply broken in our societies,’ migrant assault survivor Thaïs d’Escufon said.
Thaïs d’Escufon Thaïs d’Escufon/YouTube
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Tue Jul 7, 2026 - 7:13 am EDT
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(LifeSiteNews) — Thaïs d’Escufon is a French political activist, commentator, and from 2018 to 2021 was spokesperson for Génération Identitaire, a movement known for its opposition to mass immigration and its defense of French and European identity.
In recent years, she has become one of the most prominent young voices of the French identitarian movement, frequently speaking on issues related to immigration, security, freedom of expression, and women’s safety.
In 2021, d’Escufon revealed that she had been sexually assaulted by a Tunisian man who had entered her home. On December 18, 2023, d’Escufon stated during a television interview for the French channel BFMTV that immigration represents one of the “greatest threats to the safety of French women.”
For this reason, she has been prosecuted for incitement to racial hatred. The case has sparked a heated debate in France about freedom of speech, immigration, public security, and the limits of political expression. On June 18, 2026, the judicial court of Paris handed her to a €1,000 fine ($1,142).
LifeSiteNews interviewed d’Escufon to hear her reflections on the events leading up to the trial, the consequences of the case, and the general situation of France and Europe today.
LifeSiteNews: Could you briefly explain the events that led to your conviction and what exactly you said during the television interview?
Thaïs d’Escufon: The case began after a television appearance on BFMTV in December 2023. I was invited to comment on a case involving a young woman who had been raped by a central-African man under an expulsion order. That case struck me very deeply because the modus operandi echoed my own experience.
In late 2021, a Tunisian man entered my home in Lyon in broad daylight. He took my phone, kept me inside my own apartment for a long time, and the situation gradually turned into an explicit sexual demand. I was terrified. I managed to make him leave and call the police. I later recognized him on surveillance footage, but the case was nevertheless dismissed.
So when I spoke on television, I was not speaking from a cold ideological abstraction, I was speaking from a personal trauma and from anger, because I have the conviction that many women experience similar things but are expected to remain silent when the truth becomes politically inconvenient.
During that interview, I said that, “The main danger for women in France comes from immigrant men, African, black, and Arab men.” It’s just the truth. Those words were later treated as a criminal offense. I was prosecuted, and the prosecutor has sought a four-month unsuspended prison sentence against me. On June 18, after massive pressure on social media, the Paris judicial court sentenced me to a €1,000 fine for public insult on the grounds of origin, ethnicity, nation, or race.
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What is shocking to me is the symbolic inversion. The man who entered my home is still free. My own case was dismissed. Yet I am the one who has been convicted for speaking publicly about what this experience taught me.
I believe my words were part of a political debate on women’s safety, immigration, and public security. People may find them harsh or uncomfortable, but I do not believe that a woman should face criminal punishment for naming a reality she has personally experienced.
LSN: Do you believe the court adequately considered your personal experience when assessing your statements?
No, I do not believe my personal experience was adequately considered. On the contrary, I felt that it was almost dismissed.
During the hearing, the prosecutor referred to my story as a “poor fact,” something that, in her view, could not justify what she called “hate speech.” I found that expression extremely violent. This “poor fact” was not an anecdote. It was potentially a life-shattering event.
Instead of receiving any real compassion, I felt that I was being portrayed as someone who was exploiting her own trauma. It was suggested that I was “playing a game,” that I knew what I was doing because I was used to the media, and that the case would somehow bring me money or partnerships. This is the exact opposite of reality.
My political exposure has brought me censorship, bans from social media platforms, banking problems, professional exclusion, legal costs, threats, harassment, and years of psychological pressure. It did not make my life easier. It did not bring me comfort or stability.
What shocked me the most was the total absence of the usual language of compassion. There was no “we believe you,” no sisterly empathy, no solidarity with a woman speaking after a sexual assault, no understanding of the fear that such an experience leaves behind. Because my words did not fit the politically acceptable narrative, I was no longer treated as a victim. I was treated almost like a criminal.
That is what this case reveals. In France today, a woman can be encouraged to speak about sexual violence, but only if she draws the correct political conclusions. If her experience leads her to speak about immigration, insecurity, or the origin of her aggressor, then suddenly her trauma is minimized, her motives are questioned, and she becomes the one on trial.
LSN: What was your reaction when you first learned that criminal proceedings had been initiated against you?
My first reaction was disbelief. I was shocked, even though I was unfortunately not discovering judicial harassment for the first time.
I had already been convicted in the past, at first instance, for similar political speech in the context of my activism with Génération Identitaire, before later being acquitted on appeal. So I knew that expressing certain opinions in France could have serious legal consequences. But this time, the prosecution asked for four months of actual prison time. That was a new threshold.
READ: Pope Leo welcomes migrants to Europe while Vatican keeps fortress-like borders
I found it almost surreal. The man who entered my home, and tried to rape me, is still free. My own case was dismissed, and I was not even properly informed of it at the time. I sometimes wonder who he may have assaulted after me.
Meanwhile, the justice system, which constantly complains about lacking resources, seems remarkably efficient when it comes to prosecuting people like me for political speech.
That is what shocked me most: the imbalance. When a woman reports an assault, even with surveillance footage and an identified suspect, the case can disappear. But when that same woman later speaks too bluntly about immigration and women’s safety, the machinery of justice suddenly moves very quickly.
So yes, I was shocked. I felt that the message was clear: the system may fail to protect you as a victim, but it will not fail to punish you if your testimony disturbs the official narrative.
LSN: In your view, what message does this conviction send to French and – more generally – European women who have been victims of crimes committed by migrants?
It is a message of intimidation sent to all those who have suffered from the consequences of mass immigration: you are not allowed to complain about immigration policy. You are not allowed to draw political conclusions from what happened to you. You must remain silent, or you may become the one accused.
I find that disgusting.
Women are constantly told to break the silence and share their stories, yet when the aggressor is a migrant and it raises questions about borders, the tone changes. The victim is no longer celebrated for speaking. She is morally judged, and sometimes even prosecuted.
This logic is not only French. We have seen it in the United Kingdom with the grooming gangs scandal. For years, the authorities were reluctant to face the ethnic and cultural profile of the perpetrators, men of Pakistani origin, because they feared accusations of racism. As a result, networks of sexual exploitation were not investigated with the seriousness and urgency they deserved, and countless young British girls were sacrificed on the altar of “living together.”
This is exactly the kind of political blindness I am denouncing. When the fear of being called racist becomes stronger than the duty to protect women and children, something is deeply broken in our societies.
My conviction tells European women: speak, but only within the limits imposed by the dominant ideology. If your suffering confirms the official narrative, you will be heard. If it challenges it, you may be silenced.
I refuse that. A woman’s testimony should not become illegitimate simply because it exposes the consequences of immigration policy.
LSN: Do you believe there is currently a climate of self-censorship in France regarding discussions about immigration and crime? Do you see your case as part of a broader trend concerning restrictions on freedom of expression in Europe?
Yes, of course. And this is not only about women or victims of migrant crime. It is about the entire public debate. In France, almost everyone knows that immigration and crime are subjects that must be approached with extreme caution. Journalists weigh their words, politicians use euphemisms and ordinary citizens are afraid of what they post online. Victims themselves are pressured to remain vague. We have created a country where people whisper privately what they no longer dare to say publicly.
My case is part of this broader trend. Across Europe, we see the same pattern.
The Henry Nowak case in the United Kingdom is another terrible example of this climate. A young man was stabbed to death, and yet, because his killer falsely claimed that he had been the victim of a racist attack from him, the dying victim was arrested. He was handcuffed while he was fatally wounded. Sadly, he died before receiving any help, the last sentence he heard was his legal rights. This shows how powerful the ideological reflex has become: the accusation of racism can immediately reverse the moral order, even in the face of extreme violence.
What is especially worrying is that this creates self-censorship long before any trial takes place. Most people do not need to be convicted to be silenced. They just need to see what happens to those who speak too clearly, or what happens when an institution is more afraid of being accused of racism than of failing to protect innocent people.
READ: EU bishops cite Pope Leo in attack on new migrant deportation rules
LSN: How has this legal battle affected you personally and professionally? Have the events surrounding this case changed your political engagement or strengthened your determination to continue speaking on these issues?
Of course, it wears you down. A legal battle is never only legal. It becomes psychological. You live with uncertainty, reputational damage, and with the feeling that your own country is turning against you for saying what you believe to be true. At times, it feels like a betrayal.
Professionally, I know that I will probably never be able to have a “normal” job again, all of this follows me. But I did not enter this fight for glory, comfort, or recognition, these issues are bigger than me.
However, the support I received after this case reminded me that I was not alone. So yes, this battle has hurt me, but it has also strengthened my determination. Today, I live thanks to the support of those who believe in my battle. And in a strange way, living from one’s fight is an incredible privilege.
LSN: Did you receive support from the French and European people following the verdict?
Yes, absolutely. And I must say that the support I received deeply moved me. After the prosecution requested four months of actual prison time against me, I published a video in a state of deep exhaustion and discouragement. At that moment, I felt that the system had almost succeeded in breaking me.
But then something happened that I did not expect: people began to share my story massively on social media. I received thousands of messages of support, not only from France, but from all over Europe and even beyond: the United States, Australia, Japan, South America. My case was also shared by major international figures, including Elon Musk.
I also received financial support through Patreon, which helped a lot to continue the legal battle. Censorship, banking problems, and professional exclusion have real consequences. When strangers decide to help you carry that burden, it gives you strength. It reminded me that I was not alone, that many people across the West see what is happening, and that this fight is much larger than my personal case. It gave me a new breath.
LSN: In your opinion, why are questions relating to immigration and women’s security often so politically sensitive?
Because these questions touch the very heart of the ideological system that has shaped Western Europe for decades. In many European countries, anti-racist ideology has become a kind of official religion. It teaches Europeans to see their own people, their own history, and their own instincts of self-preservation with suspicion. Any attempt to defend their identity is immediately interpreted as hatred.
There is also a deep sense of guilt linked to colonial history. European peoples have been taught to believe that they owe the rest of the world an endless debt, and that any restriction on immigration would be a form of cruelty or moral failure. This guilt has become politically paralyzing.
I would also speak of a form of ethno-masochism: the idea that Europeans must constantly apologize for existing, and sacrifice their own security, their own cohesion, sometimes even their own daughters, in order to prove that they are not racist.
At the same time, many Europeans have lost the natural sense of belonging to a historical community. They no longer think in terms of transmission, continuity, or collective survival. So when someone says, “We have the right to protect our women, our borders, our way of life,” it sounds almost shocking to them, even though it should be the most basic political instinct. Europeans are forced to defend the ideology they have been taught no matter the cost, instead of the reality they can see and experience.
LSN: What reforms would you like to see to increase safety in France?
The central word is remigration. I believe it is the only serious long-term solution.
Integration or assimilation have become largely disconnected from reality. It is no longer possible as a global answer to a demographic phenomenon of this magnitude. France receives hundreds of thousands of legal entries every year, not even counting illegal immigration. We are speaking of more than 500,000 entries per year, the equivalent, in scale, of the population of the fifth biggest city in France, which is Nice. A country cannot absorb such numbers indefinitely, especially when many of those arriving do not share its civilizational codes.
So, the first reform would be to stop the flow: strict border control, the end of mass immigration, the systematic expulsion of illegal immigrants, foreign criminals, and people under deportation orders. But stopping new arrivals is not enough. We also need an organized policy of return. Remigration means using legal, diplomatic, economic, and administrative tools to encourage or require the departure of those who have no legitimate reason to remain in France.
If France wants to remain France, it must recover the right to decide who belongs here. Otherwise, we will merely continue to manage the negative consequences of a policy that no longer has the consent of the French people. If we don’t do that, we must accept the gradual disintegration of our country and the loss of our identity.
Remigration is the only realistic answer.
LSN: Large Italian cities such as Rome, Milan, Genoa, and Bologna have now been devastated by crime caused by immigrants, especially those who are “irregular.” Immigrants – according to surveys – make up about 9 percent of Italy’s total population. I don’t think the situation in France is any different. So you believe remigration is feasible. How?
Yes, I believe remigration is feasible, but only with real political will and political courage. The question is not whether it is technically possible. States already have laws, police forces, diplomatic tools to execute such a project. The real question is whether political leaders are ready to use them.
A country can make it clear that it will no longer finance or accommodate ways of life that are incompatible with its identity. For example: ending medical and social privileges for illegal immigrants, stopping the construction of new mosques, banning the veil in public spaces, ending the development of halal industrial production, and taxing imported halal products.
The idea is simple: France should not adapt itself to the immigrants, we affirm who we are. Those who want to live according to another civilization should be encouraged to return to countries where that civilization is the norm.
Then there are coercive measures. These are even more obvious: systematic deportation of people under expulsion orders, closure and control of borders, expulsion of foreign criminals and delinquents, and removal of foreigners who live permanently from social assistance without contributing to the country. Frankly, the real scandal is that many of these things are not already done.
READ: Italy’s safety crisis: What female travelers should know before visiting this summer
But my fear is that in France, the party most likely to come to power and apply part of this program would be the National Rally. Yet I am not sure it would have either the institutional freedom or the ideological courage to go far enough. Also the media pressure would be enormous. Their desire for respectability often makes them abandon the very measures that would actually be necessary.
That is why my own fight is not really electoral, it has become more ethnocentric and civilizational. I want to defend my people, but I also want other European countries to understand what happened to France before it is too late for them. If my work can help dissuade Italians, Germans, Austrians, Spaniards, or others from following the French path, then at least parts of Europe may still be saved.
At a more individual level, we may also have to think in terms of community, local rootedness, and sometimes even expatriation for those who can no longer live safely or freely in certain areas. As long as there are Europeans, there is still Europe. But we must stop believing that Europe will survive by inertia. It will survive only if we consciously choose to defend it.
LSN: You come from a large Catholic family deeply rooted in faith. How do you respond to those – not only priests and laypeople, but also bishops and even popes – who claim that the idea of remigration is incompatible with Christian values?
I would first say that loving one’s neighbor does not mean abolishing every natural duty toward one’s own people. There is a famous sentence attributed to Jean-Jacques Rousseau: “Such a philosopher loves the Tartars, in order to be spared loving his neighbors.” I think this captures very well the false universalism of our time.
Christian charity is not a sentimental weakness. It is not the abolition of borders; a father who leaves his house open to anyone, even those who threaten his family, is not being charitable. He is failing in his duty. In the same way, a government that exposes its own people to demographic replacement is not practicing Christian love.
Catholicism and European identity are also deeply linked. Europe was shaped by the Christian faith, so to attack European identity is, in the long run, to weaken the historical soil in which Christianity took root in our civilization.
Plus, Christ did bring a message of love and mercy, but He did not preach cowardice or complacency with evil. He drove the merchants out of the temple. Christianity is not softness. I do not believe Christ ever asked nations to abolish themselves and renounce their own existence. Universal salvation does not mean political borderlessness.
Finally, remigration is not a project of hatred. It is a peaceful and a human political project aimed at restoring order. True charity cannot be built on the sacrifice of one’s own people.
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LSN: France is witnessing a growing number of Catholic conversions and baptisms, particularly within the so‑called traditional circles. From your perspective, being directly immersed in French society, do you feel optimistic about this trend?
To be honest, France, the “eldest daughter of the Church,” is also one of the most dechristianized countries in Europe. So I do not want to give a naïve or falsely optimistic answer. It is true that adult baptisms have increased, and that is a very beautiful sign. But at the same time, the number of infant baptisms has fallen dramatically over the decades. This means that we are not witnessing a simple return to the old Catholic France.
However, within this general collapse, the Traditional Catholic world in France is remarkably alive. It has strong families, large families, schools, churches, associations, youth groups, pilgrimages, intellectual networks, and a real sense of identity. The Chartres pilgrimage, for example, grows every year and has become one of the most visible signs of this vitality.
I think this is where the future may be: dense, rooted communities capable of transmitting faith, culture, and identity over time. Traditional Catholic families often have more children than secular couples, and they raise them within a strong network of belonging.
What attracts many young people to traditional Catholicism is precisely that it does not apologize for itself. In a world that is liquid, confused, this kind of rootedness is powerful.
I also believe that the Traditional liturgy speaks to young people because it carries a sacredness and a seriousness that many no longer find elsewhere. It is not trying to imitate the modern world. It offers an alternative to it. And that is why it can be so attractive. These communities may be small compared to what France once was, but they are structured, fertile, and that gives me real hope.
LSN: What would you say to women who feel uncomfortable speaking publicly about crimes committed against them because they fear social or legal consequences?
I would tell them first that they have the right to tell the truth. They have the right to speak about what happened to them without being forced to erase part of reality in order to make their testimony politically acceptable. They should let themselves be blackmailed into silence.
Hiding part of the truth does not serve women and it does not protect future victims. It only protects the comfort of those who do not want to face the consequences of their own ideology.
I would also tell these women that they are courageous. Speaking after an assault is already difficult. Speaking when you know that your testimony may be used against you requires even more courage. We should not add another injustice to the first one by forbidding victims to put words on their wounds.
Truth is not hatred.
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- abuse
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- Illegal Immigration
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- Sexual Abuse
- Thaïs d’Escufon
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