Free Translation from the Article by Sophie Dorgan, 28th of August 2023

Selima Sfar, a Victim of Régis de Camaret:

"It Took Me Twenty-Five Years to Admit It"

Selima Sfar, a former top 100 tennis player from Tunisia, has chosen to publicly reveal that she is one of the victims of Régis de Camaret. She also wishes to convey a message of hope.

When you meet Selima Sfar, you see a woman surrounded by friends and full of joy. Hailing from a prominent Tunisian family, with her grandfather Habib Cheikhrouhou being an iconic figure in her country's struggle for independence, she has continued the family's legacy with great success. Selima was the first Arab woman to break into the top 100 in the world rankings. She later became a consultant for beIN Sports in French and Al Jazeera in Arabic. She has also served as an ambassador for Lacoste and leads a multi-sport club by the sea in Gammarth, in the northeastern part of Tunisia.

In 2013, when her compatriot Malek Jaziri was compelled by his Federation to withdraw from a match against an Israeli player, she took a courageous stand. One cannot imagine that this strong woman had been enduring an internal trauma for years. Until the day she called us because she wanted to reveal that she, too, may have been sexually abused as a child by Régis de Camaret, who was her coach at the time (*). She feels ready.

Sitting on the couch in her Parisian apartment, accompanied by Fernando Cavalher, an expert in the unconscious and dreams who has assisted her, she is going to emotionally open up for three hours. She aims to send messages of hope to victims of sexual abuse, share her keys to overcoming trauma, and engage in prevention by creating a website, Unus Mundus, targeted at sports institutions.

"You wanted to speak publicly for the first time about immense buried pain. What happened to you?

When I was 12 and a half years old, I was sexually abused by Régis de Camaret.
No one knows my story.
Everyone sees that I come from a fairly well-off family, that I live very comfortably, that I was the first Arab woman to enter the top 100 worldwide, but I paid an 'enormous' price. Throughout my career, it was a lot of suffering; I was constantly swimming against the current, battling myself. It took me a long time to free myself."

It's a significant trauma. When it happens, you say to yourself, "I've sacrificed everything for this; I have to make it." I worked like crazy. Throughout my life, I thought I was weak, cowardly, and worthless until I understood. Today, at 46 years old, I can speak because I've worked extensively on myself and received help. The shame has disappeared. When I cry, it's from emotion. These are not the same tears. The shame has transformed into pride.

I'm proud of what I've become. How did it all begin?

In Tunisia, I was already a senior champion in both men's and women's categories at 12 years old. I had decided to become a professional tennis player, but there were few facilities in my country at the time. I came to Roland-Garros for a test, and the Federation told me I had the level but needed to play for France. With my grandfather, who was an advocate for Tunisian independence, I wanted to play for Tunisia. I heard about a beautiful academy in Biarritz with one of the best coaches In the world of tennis, there was Régis de Camaret, who coached Nathalie Tauziat, etc.

It was tough to leave at 12 and a half years old. I didn't know anyone; I didn't speak French very well, but I had to leave if I wanted to pursue my dream.

"Midway through the journey, it was 1 o'clock in the morning, he pulled over to the side of the road and began touching me, doing things.

At that moment, I didn't even know what was happening; I didn't understand at all. Thirty- five years ago, being 12 is not the same as being 12 today."

In Biarritz, I was in a host family. To come from Tunisia, I had to take a flight from Tunis to Bordeaux, and the host family would pick me up in Bordeaux to take me back to Biarritz. A few months after my arrival, my flight from Tunis to Bordeaux arrived late, around midnight. Régis offered to pick me up because it was late. I would stay at his place for the night, and the next day, I would return to my host family. He came to pick me up at the airport, and I remember his blue tracksuit, and I got into his car, a gray Audi.

Midway through the journey, it was 1 o'clock in the morning, he pulled over to the side of the road and began to touch me, to do things.

At that moment, I didn't even know what was happening; I didn't understand at all.
It was 35 years ago; being 12 was not the same as being 12 now. I came from an Arab country.

All I knew was that he was one of the best coaches in the world, a bit of a "god" in French tennis, and if I truly wanted to become a champion, I needed him.

I was paralyzed; I couldn't move.

I guess it was a way to see if I would react or not. I was in shock, as if you were plugging a 220-volt computer into a 550-volt outlet. You're paralyzed. We continued the journey and arrived at his place late. Upstairs, there was his daughter and her room; I slept on the sofa bed downstairs. I lay down, and an hour or two later hours later, I woke up while he was touching me. Then it quickly escalated from touching to rape. Each time, it was the same, I was paralyzed. It lasted for nearly three years.

How were you able to leave?

Around the age of 16-17, I started to rebel. I couldn't bear it anymore. I had terrible anger, sadness. I didn't want to train with him anymore, I couldn't do it. I went to Bordeaux to train for a year and a half with Henri Dumont. It was a way to leave.

Then I decided to go to London. The English were happy that I trained with their youth. I decided not to have a coach anymore.

It was a radical decision. I trained six hours a day on my own, in the evening, I reviewed my day and prepared for the next day by myself. I was disciplined, and I entered the top 100.

Couldn't you talk to your parents about it?

When it happened, my parents were going through a divorce, which was very tough for them and for us. Additionally, my beloved grandfather, whom I was very close to, passed away. I knew it was impossible to tell them anything while they were themselves in the depths of despair. In my head, I thought the only thing I could do was to succeed. I felt like I could make them happier if I won. If I lost, there was even more guilt.

Back then, there were no mobile phones. I would wait for hours, sitting next to the phone in the middle of the night, feeling very alone. Occasionally, I would call my sister who was in Paris, the only person with whom I could allow myself to cry or admit that I was feeling down.

Sometimes she would cry a little with me, and it would make me feel better. My mother, who taught me strength, for which I am grateful, told me that I should be strong and not cry. We grow up like that, setting aside what we feel ,I keep the wounds. I didn't talk to anyone about it. In 2005, Isabelle Demongeot released her book 'Service volé,' where she revealed that she had been raped for nine years by Régis de Camaret. An investigation was launched.

How did you experience that period?

When the police called me, I still had that moment of paralysis, and I replied that nothing had happened. At that time, I hadn't even admitted it to myself; I told myself that nothing had happened, although a part of me knew it had happened.

The trauma was at its peak. I couldn't face it, or I would have died. One, I wasn't ready. Two, I wasn't ready for my parents to find out like this. It was impossible.

I judged myself after that. I saw others speaking out, but I couldn't. You simply can't. The first time I admitted it was to my therapist.

I lay on the couch and stayed there for forty-eight hours , "I cried in the darkness. I couldn't get up anymore. It was the first time I opened the door to this trauma. It's a survival mechanism, especially for a child, the only way not to go insane.

When emotions come, you put them in a box because you don't know how to handle them. You stop thinking about them, but they're there, and they affect your life without you knowing. It took me twenty-five years to admit it to myself, thirty-five years to say it publicly.

Respect to Isabelle Demongeot and all the women who have spoken. I understand that some don't speak; you have to do it when you feel ready. I don't judge anyone.

Régis de Camaret was sentenced to ten years in prison in 2014. Did you follow the two trials?

When it all started coming out, I fell into a severe depression. Many things resurfaced. My parents and loved ones would say, 'Fortunately, you're strong; you wouldn't have let that happen.' You have no idea how much it hurt me every time I heard that, the shame I felt. It indirectly confirmed that I was cowardly and weak. I lived through that throughout the trial. It was hell.

I had dark thoughts.

Depression might be the best thing that happened to me because I hit rock bottom. I started working with Mélanie (Maillard, psychologist). She understood before I did, but she didn't tell me directly because we resist. The first time I admitted it was to my therapist. I lay on the couch and stayed there for forty-eight hours in the dark, crying. I couldn't get up anymore. It was the first time I opened the door to this trauma. It hurts a lot for it to do good. Mélanie helped me a lot. We progress, 30%, 50%, 70%, but the last 30% are the most important.

Expressing oneself, justice, all of that is great, but it's not enough. That the person is punished, goes to prison, is obviously satisfying, but it's not enough to truly live, to regain the joy of living, real self-confidence, the Words. This trauma becomes words. There, we live.

Two and a half years ago, I met Fernando (Cavalher), and I am very grateful to him and Mélanie. Dream after dream, nightmare after nightmare, we worked on everything without him knowing all the details of the story.

Today, I am proud to have overcome this and to live at 100%. You were in the midst of a tennis career. How was it going?

In 2008, I went to the Olympics with Tunisia. Magnificent nonetheless. Yet, I weighed 48 kg, and I was in the depths of depression. During the opening ceremony, with all the best athletes, I held my accreditation so tightly that I bled, I cried, I was so unhappy. That's when I realized that all the world's results are not enough to heal something like this. I was in pain, I was angry , I was replaying the film of my life. I was raped, didn't tell anyone for years, I left on my own, I had to succeed to make the people I love happy, to make myself happy, to be loved, to be accepted, to be able to give love, and all I wanted was to die.

Yet here I am at the Olympics. I was searching for how to die because I was in so much pain, I was dead inside. That's where I started to be reborn. The reconstruction began with Mélanie Maillard. From there, I tried all the methods. Everything was fine, but you can feel the negative energy coming back a bit in romantic relationships, family relationships, at work. Abuse isn't just physical.

"I had associated becoming a champion with abuse. I don't even know how I reached 75th in the world rankings. It's a miracle. I allowed myself to win a bit, but in the most important moments, I would self-sabotage."

In what way could it reappear?

Performing and becoming a champion brought me back to the abuse. Every time I was on the verge of a major victory, I would paralyze myself. My nightmare on the court happened in Dubai against Kournikova (2002). In a packed stadium, I was leading 4-0 in the third set (40-0), and suddenly, my racket felt like it weighed 300 kg. I made five consecutive double faults, and I lost 6-4.

When you step off the court, you feel like killing yourself; you don't know what's happening, it's unconscious. I had associated becoming a champion with the abuse. I don't even know how I managed to reach 75th in the world rankings. It's a miracle.

I allowed myself to win a bit, but in the most important moments, I would self-sabotage. In my head, I kept asking myself why I didn't have the strength to say no, why I didn't say no, I am a coward.

On the court, at every moment when I needed self-confidence and had to make a choice, it was incredibly tough. Today, I've realized that I am strong, that I have succeeded remarkably well. I say it with humility and tears in my eyes. All my life, I never believed it. I've been saying it in an integrated way for a year and a half. I am a warrior. I didn't just survive; I lived. I applaud the little Selima. I learned to love the little Selima, even though unconsciously, I was ashamed of her.

On a personal level, it was also very complicated...

When I was a teenager, I was dating a very nice guy in Biarritz. Régis forbade me from seeing him. He said you couldn't become a champion if you were in love. I'm a romantic, I wanted relationships so much, but unconsciously, I didn't allow myself. Anything related to sexuality, love, it was genuinely very difficult. There were fears, dangers, and resistance everywhere.

For example, I always wanted children, I even froze my eggs, and I have two football teams waiting for me in Brussels. (Laughs.) But I didn't allow myself to have a stable romantic relationship. I was learning to love the child inside me. Today, I am at peace with not being a mother; I want to be a mother in a different way by helping children.

Have you considered filing a complaint, even if the events you describe are time-barred?

He was in prison, he was sentenced. Guilty, he is and will always remain. He committed a crime, that is certain, but the purpose of this interview is not to blame him. He served his sentence. I talk about it because there is still a lot of abuse, for all those who are victims. To tell them that if they didn't say no, it's because it's humanly impossible if you don't have the tools to defend yourself. We need to talk about it as much as possible if we can, dare to speak up.

"What has been the hardest to overcome over the years?

Removing the guilt and shame. Even in my family, some people said, 'Why didn't you say no?' That's the worst thing to hear. Thankfully, I was truly healed and strong when I heard that. If you're still in the trauma and you hear someone who loves you say, 'Why didn't you say no,' you simply jump out the window. It's impossible to say no in those situations. It's like asking someone underwater to breathe without a snorkel. There's no guilt to have. I want to say to those who haven't experienced it: 'Stop saying, "If you're strong, it doesn't happen to you." It happens to everyone. When we're children, we constantly hear, "You don't talk to an adult like that, you respect older people, authority figures, you don't say no." Plus, with one of the best coaches in the world, it's impossible to say no.

"Is it even more difficult to speak out for an Arab woman?

Yes, that's true. It's more sensitive, concerning morality, codes... Speaking about sexuality is not easy. It's important to distinguish between sexual freedom and sexual abuse. For freedom, we're talking about mutual consent; abuse is a crime.

We come from a culture that has been quite closed for a long time. Thirty-five years ago, I was judged by some because I was wearing a short skirt. The first way to free yourself is to accept that others judge us. When we step out of the conventional paths, people may try to shame us, especially as women. It's not a problem if we are aligned with ourselves and liberated. Shame turns into power.

Today, I am proud of that part of me. It changes everything. You have to be willing to disrupt.

How did your family react when they found out?

It was a shock. My parents did the best they could. I talked to them about it, and it lasted a few minutes, and we never talked about it again. It's very difficult for them, and I understand. My sister was deeply affected, and my brother was too. He didn't leave his house for five days, he cried, stopped eating, and kept repeating one phrase: 'It doesn't only happen to others; it happened to my sister.' I spent my whole life living this alone. It was comforting to feel someone who felt things for me so deeply.

Unus Mundus, a website to transmit 'Unus Mundus' is her brainchild.

With Fernando Cavalher, a Brazilian specialist in dreams and the unconscious and the author of the book The paradigm of sense, Selima Sfar is launching her website aimed at sports institutions. Not for money, but to share what she has learned through her painful experience. 'It's my baby to help abused individuals, to provide prevention for young people and parents. If it helped me, why not share it? I want to see women succeed, become champions, strong and inspiring, take control of their lives. The same goes for men because it happens to young boys too. I see that there are still many cases all the time. It's necessary for young boys. I see that there are still many cases, all the time.

Prevention must be done, and in cases of abuse, provide the tools. Very often, parents ask me if they can send their little girl to this or that academy. We must give children permission to say no, show parents how to prepare them for it, check the surroundings. We can never be 100% in control, but we can do prevention. Seemingly innocuous things like, 'You don't talk to an adult like that' can lead to not saying no to an abuser. The work has to be done, and no one can do it except oneself. But there are people who can help." - S. D

(*) When contacted, Régis de Camaret's lawyers informed "L'Équipe" that they were no longer in contact with their former client and no longer had his contact information. Members of his former Gaillou club in Capbreton (Landes) explain that they haven't seen him for years. Among her close ones who had testified in his favor during his trial, one does not have his contact details, and the other did not respond.