Christine Berrou: "All that time wasted trying to please others, we'll never get it back." 

Comedian, columnist, author, and insightful observer of our times, Christine Berrou juggles multiple projects, including her podcast Think, columnist on the show Spicy on Téva and his latest book The day I stopped apologizing (First Editions, published October 16, 2025). Behind its humor and self-deprecation, it primarily tells the story of a generation exhausted by the gaze of others, social media, and the constant fear of not being "enough." For InterviewsThe woman who will be performing on May 24th at La Scène Barbès speaks candidly about anxiety, freedom, feminism and the constant need for validation that sometimes simply prevents us from living. 

Aimé Kaniki: You often give the impression of being funny and very insightful. But in your private life, is Christine Berrou more anxious or relaxed? 

Christine Berrou: I'm becoming less anxious, but I'm still working on it. It's not easy; it's a constant effort. I consulted a lot of therapists for years, but today I don't really have one who can offer me anything new. So I read a lot, I talk to people. People are a treasure trove of solutions and perspectives. This year, I feel like I've made a lot of progress in detachment. Above all, I've understood that the most important thing for me is freedom. Every time I give my energy to anxiety, I lose a little of that freedom. I tell myself it's a shame to work hard to be able to choose my hours, earn money with my art, and then ultimately give away my freedom to trivial matters. When a little anxiety creeps in—about a train, the news, or my daughter being a bit sick—I tell myself that I'm not going to sacrifice my quality of life and my mental health to an illusion. In 99% of cases, our fear is based on an illusion. That's what's helping me right now. 

Between your podcast Think, Spicy on Téva, your show How I ruined my career and your book The day I stopped apologizingDo you need to be constantly in motion in order not to think too much? 

You've got me figured out. If my podcast is called ThinkIt's because I'm constantly overthinking. Turning it into podcasts, shows, or columns is a way to get things out of me. Once it's recorded, written, analyzed, and transformed into a work of art, I feel like it's categorized. It takes up less mental space. I can't help but overanalyze everything, but that's just my nature. You have to turn it into a strength. Whatever excites me, I do it. And once it's out of my system, it weighs a little less on my anxiety. 

 In ThinkYou talk a lot about modern anxieties and human contradictions. Do you think our era is producing people who are more anxious than truly happy? 

Every era has had its dark corners, its blind spots, and its reasons for stress. In caveman times, we weren't sure we'd wake up the next day or have food. Today, society constantly makes us feel guilty because the news isn't pretty. And it also presents itself in its worst light because it gets clicks. We see catastrophes all the time. Even the smallest, most trivial thing can be blown out of proportion to make us react. I wonder to what extent our brains are really designed to handle all of this. So yes, I think we're perhaps more stressed today, even if we have a more comfortable life, because we're exposed to so many more anxiety-inducing things. 

In your segments on the show SpicyYou observe the behaviors and contradictions of our society with humor. Today, is it still possible to make people laugh without fearing you might hurt someone's feelings?

This is a conversation I was having with a comedian over 60, who told me that he no longer dared to speak out. I think that when you open your heart a little and try to put yourself in someone else's shoes, you gain clarity. There are people who refuse to accept the passage of time, to accept that customs change, and who go at it in a heavy-handed way, brandishing freedom of expression. But with great power comes great responsibility. When you're on stage, you're also a role model. If you make jokes about a community or a gender, you sometimes open the door to people for whom it's not their profession, who will seize upon it and do whatever they want with it. We don't just offer the freedom to laugh; we can also offer the freedom to mock. I think the more difficult the subject, the more you have to be funny and relevant. Not everyone has that talent. For my part, I only take a stand on issues where I feel I have the right to speak. I talk a lot about sexual violence because I feel I have the right to speak on those issues. But I'm not going to take on causes that aren't my own, or if I do, I'll do a lot of research beforehand. We're living in a pivotal era. It will probably take a generation or two before we truly find our way. 

Your conference-show is called How I ruined my careerAt what point did you realize that you could transform your flaws, failures, or complexes into a comedic strength? 

 Thanks to ThinkInitially, it was a little treat I gave myself: creating my own media outlet to explore the topics that interested me. I thought I'd get a few dozen listeners and that would be great. But then I realized that people were hungry for insights, guidance, and vulnerability. We're emerging from an era where people thought that to get media attention or recognition, you had to be infallible, brilliant, above the fray. Today, people want to see real people grappling with their own questions. After twenty years of telling jokes on stage, I needed something different. I wanted to take to the stage with the questions of ThinkIt's about looking people in the eye and saying, "Look, I messed up there, I've learned that, here it is, do with it what you will." Of course, I throw in a few jokes, because that's just my nature. But people don't just leave saying, "We had a good laugh." They also leave with something to think about. 

With The day I stopped apologizingYou explain that one can end up "apologizing for existing." At what point did you realize that you were doing this yourself?

I apologized all the time. It's the common thread in many things I regret in my life. I was raised from a very young age to be in a subordinate position. Partly because I was a woman. I grew up in an extremely patriarchal environment where women didn't work. I was often told, "Don't make too much noise, don't cause trouble." When you grow up with that, you enter the adult world thinking: my voice has no impact, I'm worthless, I'm not important, the opportunities I'm given are practically charity. At no point do you think: I have talent, I have value, I am enough. I realized that apologizing isn't just about saying sorry all the time. It's also about putting filters on your photos, not responding to an opportunity because you think you won't be able to do it, letting a man talk during a date because you're afraid of rejection. All of this is just apologizing for existing. And that's enough now. This book is for women, but also for men. I show that there's nothing good about apologizing all the time. It's dangerous because you attract violent people when you constantly apologize. And above all, you leave room for those who never apologize. 

Do you feel that things have changed since MeToo? 

Yes, absolutely. Since MeToo, there's been a real shift. Men realized they couldn't treat us any differently, and we started reclaiming our space. Before MeToo, I received a lot of sexist remarks backstage. I was constantly patronized. Now, men are afraid of doing something wrong, of raising their voices, because it's cost some people dearly. So we're more assertive, we're given more space. There's still a lot of work to be done, especially for women of color. I'm speaking from the perspective of a white woman, so we need to be realistic about that. But I think we'll get there. 

Have social networks made people more fragile and more dependent on the opinions of others? 

Yes, because there's this cult of achievement. So many people showcase a perfect life, explaining how they succeeded, how they became millionaires, how they're always on vacation. It puts us in a constant state of alert, in survival mode: they have this, I don't, so I'm no good. But social media is also a space where everyone can have their say, including amazing people who have so much to offer. I'm not ashamed to say that some TikToks have blown my mind. Sometimes, a single sentence can inspire me as much as a book. There's the best and the worst on TikTok. When used with detachment and moderation, it can be a considerable asset in one's life. 

In the book, you say that constantly apologizing means letting others decide our worth. Concretely, what does reclaiming our power mean today? 

I want to be careful not to speak from too privileged a position. I live off my art; I don't have a boss, I have an audience. For me, reclaiming my power means expressing myself. But for a woman married to an abusive man and financially dependent, the path won't be the same. I think, however, that there's a common thread: reclaiming your power means being aware of your worth. It means telling yourself, when something bad happens to you: I'm worth more than this. I deserve the respect and kindness I give to others. What helps me is asking myself how I would react if it were my daughter. If something unacceptable happened to her, I wouldn't be happy. So if it happens to me, I don't have to accept it either. 

Have you ever agreed to things professionally or personally solely to avoid displeasing others? 

Of course, absolutely. It's my life story. I was sexually assaulted at a very young age. My abuser was a violent, humiliating man who was only kind to me to get sexual favors. I grew up thinking that love was just that: being sexualized, available, okay. This had consequences in intimate relationships, but also at work: being pretty on screen, thin, not being too disruptive, and above all, not contradicting a man. I was taught very early on that without male validation, I was worthless. Only now are people beginning to understand that a woman on her own has intrinsic value. And even then, it's not a given. I'm still asked if I want to "start over," as if it absolutely requires a man. 

Do you feel that women feel even more pressure to be perfect, kind, and irreproachable? 

Yes, of course. I went to see The Devil Wears Prada 2 And it was refreshing to see women talking business. It was invigorating. But they still had to find each of them a man, who served no purpose in the film. As if they had to belong to someone. There's also resistance to feminism. We see it with the trans wives movement. Some women are still resisting. It will take generations to truly change things, but I'm optimistic. I think we're on the right track. 

Do you consider yourself happy today? 

I still live with a slight depression, which goes hand in hand with my past and my nature. But yes, it's getting better and better. I'm much happier than I was a few years ago, and I know that in a few years I'll be even happier. It's a long but rewarding journey, and it's definitely moving in the right direction. It also comes with being in your forties: you know yourself better, you detach yourself from certain things, from the obligation to fill large venues, to have lots of followers, to be married. Today, my happiness is being alone, doing nothing, going for walks, being free. I think freedom is the key, along with gratitude. Happiness is also a state of being: telling yourself that right now, I'm okay, I'm safe, everything is alright. My freedom is too precious for me to give it up to external pressures. 

If you had to leave just one message for people who spend their time doubting themselves or apologizing for existing, what would you say to them? 

They won't get back all that time wasted trying to please others. There will be no return on investment. It doesn't exist.