Mere two-letter difference poses a devious snare for those in recovery.
Students at the University of Tulsa with the desire to learn new languages have many resources, including standalone classes, full academic programs, attending speaking clubs and joining one of many conversation groups. Unfortunately, the latter option is insidiously similar in spelling to conversion groups, and as such poses a devastating — albeit unintentional — setback for one’s journey in French conversion therapy.
One such group, whose GroupMe goes by the extremely easy-to-misread moniker “French Conversation Group,” meets in the upstairs study room of McFarlin Library on Wednesdays at 1 p.m. Despite meeting in what is clearly also the perfect safe space for a group of recovering French culture enthusiasts, group leader Sam Chambers reports that visits from students seeking the TU chapter of Francophiles Anonymous (FA) group were infrequent. In fact, Chambers claims there has only been one very recent occurrence in his four years at TU. “Wha– of course this has only happened one time!” He rather harshly explained in an impromptu interview. “It would have happened no times if [the person responsible for that one, rather understandable mix-up] didn’t come in here with [their] ‘addiction’” — Chambers used very unnecessary air quotes here — “and light a beret on fire as some kind of insane protest!”
The “protest,” by which Chambers was likely referring to the very brave renunciation of former habits, is a common practice in support groups for converts from francophilia. Chambers’ group — in spite of their obvious likelihood of being confused for a conversion group — decorate their meeting chambers with many extremely triggering objects. One such object was a beret, placed on a table in the center of the room, much like what a French conversion group might do for an exposure therapy exercise. According to eyewitnesses, when someone did inevitably miss the two little letters separating the french conversation group from a french conversion group (especially understandable because two letters are usually not even enough to be pronounced in French), this beret was immolated. Evidently, the innocent victim of the mix-up believed that it was such an exercise. Despite the temptation to admire or even don the temptation before him, he made the very courageous decision to instead symbolically renounce his addiction with cleansing fire. This is a fairly acceptable response in FA. “I’ve never heard of that, that can not be a real thing,” said sophomore group member Sasha Nguyen. “Wh– no, don’t google it for me, I don’t care! Just take your lighter and go away.” At this time, questions were cut off by a hypersensitive fire alarm going off where the interview was conducted.
Chambers, Nguyen and their groupmates’ callous responses speak to their true ignorance to the difficulties facing reformed francophiles. The triggering nature of their event may even be excusable; they have no idea how hard it is to pass the croissants in the Starbucks every day and feel the urge to order one in French like they learned to on YouTube. Furthermore, when asked if they had any idea what it was like going to (French) conversion camp all summer for all of high school after one’s parents caught them baking macarons in the middle of the night, and consequently tore their room apart to find all the mariniéres under their bed, then tearfully went through their son’s Duolingo search history with a pastor, Chambers responded, “Why are you still here?”
If the French Conversation Group is any indication, the world still has a very long way to go when it comes to the respect and humanization of recovering francophiles. Sources report that — while wounded — the former France-fanatic referenced in Chambers’ interview has greatly cultivated the virtue of resilience, and relapsed only briefly after the embarrassment and triggering nature of his experience. He is now in the process of returning $830.29 worth of new wave films and pinot noir. Donations to support the victim in this financial hardship can be made via ApplePay to 708-622-8376. In other news, recovering francophiles are advised that The Collegian’s upcoming interview with John Croisant has nothing to do with the inventor of a certain, emotionally triggering pastry.
