Luce Irigaray part two: "Keep your difference!"

Luce Irigaray exhorted us to keep our difference - this remark signalled that the seminar was beginning to open up. It had begun badly, with one participant reduced to tears through an unfortunate sequence of misunderstandings and miscommunications. This failed dialogue was followed by a disagreement over whether Allah is neuter. "Prove it!" demanded Irigaray playfully.

There were one or two blogworthy diamonds in the dust of seminar waffle (sorry, 'valuable discussion'): "...it is fashionable to reject Heidegger today..."; and in response to a question about another academic, "I am not here to judge anyone".

I asked a question at the end of the seminar: "Does a deeper commonality, or common humanity animate our progress towards the other? I would like you to elaborate whether there must be a more fundamental sameness, beneath the difference of which you speak." I thought it was a suitable question for someone of my standing: not too specific or knowledgeable - the kind of question expected of a person familiar with philosophical problems, but not an expert on Irigaray's work.
The response was interesting: humans are relational, but they relate in different ways. Each person inhabits their own 'house of language', so the problem is how to articulate a way to meet in a common region. She also made one or two crucial remarks about mourning - which I didn't fully understand.

Later, there was another dinner for the seminar participants. Funnily, we arrived at our table just as the Frédéric Worms party was arriving at theirs' (luckily, I managed to catch most of Worms' talk earlier that day). The evening took on a dreamlike quality. In the distance I could see mortal enemies Elusive-Hyphen and Dave Distiller conversing with vigour and apparent pleasure, in the company of the eminent Bergson scholar.

As we (the Irigaray group) threw ourselves heartily into our second day's drinking, the discussion livened up considerably. Someone asked Irigaray a question about Sartre.
"Sartre! Sartre! When they offer me the Prix Nobel, only then will I talk about Sartre!"

At the end, there were only five: four philosophy students and the guest of honour. She was regaling us with stories of the Italian school children with whom she works. She showed us some drawings, and explained their importance.
Since most of our group had left, it appeared that I was the only person remaining with any knowledge of french (I use 'knowledge' in its loosest sense). Fargone asked Irigaray a question about whether the bambini 'keep their difference'. She couldn't understand the English. She gestured at me: "You seem to have some French - can you translate?" I tried. Let's just say that we built a small tree-house of language, between French and English. Irigaray understood my rendition of the question, although in my excitement I made a grammatical blunder (or two).

The end of the evening was marvellous - there was a collective sense of joy. Whoever said in vino, veritas was mistaken. One finds not truth in wine, but love. Just as we reached the bus stop, where some of us were to separate, Irigaray began to tell a story about an interview. We started to say our goodbyes, and she said with mock incredulity "don't you want to hear my story?"
"I imagined for the interviewer a dialogue between the masculine identity of Beauvoir and the feminine identity of Deleuze!"
Everyone started falling around in raucous laughter. And then she was gone.