In the name of Safia

My father gave me the name of his sister Safia, who, he would say, had been killed by French soldiers during the Algerian war. When my father died, I decided to go looking for this other Safia about whom I knew almost nothing. Over the course of a journey that takes me from Brussels to Paris then to Kabylia, I draw the threads of a personal but also collective story, thus deconstructing the factory of silence which has confined women including those in my family, here and there, in shame and guilt.