July 15, 2025. Sabine has completed her first trip abroad—a journey to the heart of Europe, Schuman Square in Brussels. She’s been waiting impatiently in the Beguinage Church. She wants to do something with her name and her stature: “Giantess of Dignity.”
In mid-June, she witnessed five days of “Fasting for Justice in Palestine” at the House of Compassion. Call it “Fasting for the dignity of every Gazan.” Dignity for every human being, with or without papers. That’s what she stands for.
That dignity is being violated in Israel. The whole world sees it and knows it. Gaza has become a wreck—lots of rubble, little hope. Thousands have been killed. In the buildings around Schuman Square, European leaders can’t agree on sanctions against Israel, nor on suspending the Association Agreement. Gaza is not Ukraine. Who said again: “It’s the economy, stupid!”? But the people think differently. Today, a few hundred are making that clear at Schuman Square. Sabine will be there too. With us.
It starts early in the morning. Eric got up early to print Article 2 of the European Constitution and stick it onto cardboard signs. Article 2 speaks of the core values that guide EU policy: respect for human dignity, human rights, freedom, democracy, equality, and justice. That’s what’s written on paper. And paper is patient.
In Sabine’s hands, Various has attached a flag with the same article. She’s also getting other slogans pinned to her body. There aren’t enough pins, but it works. She’s ready to go.
Eric crawls under her skirt. Just this once—it’s allowed. Nothing wrong with that. That’s how she gets going. Daniël, Marcel, Stéphane, Jean-Claude, Luc, Olympia, Mia, Hilde, Walbert, and Omar join her. Everything rolls smoothly—literally. At least for her. Those walking with her don’t roll, they walk, pulling the ropes in front to help her uphill, and behind to slow her downhill. Even Brussels is hilly for giantesses. But she doesn’t mind.
Will we get far enough? We wonder. Law enforcement isn’t always keen on these kinds of events. We walk and pull through De Brouckère, past two officers. They watched but didn’t intervene. Then up the Rue des Chevaliers, past the cathedral, to the intersection with Rue de la Loi and Place Royale.
A police van stops. The area around the Royal Palace and Parliament is neutral ground. No demonstrations are tolerated. Not even cardboard signs with Article 2. The police chief is called for advice. But a dignified giantess on wheels, accompanied by peaceful 65+ activists, apparently poses no threat to the Belgian state. At most, a little unrest. Hopefully.
The march continues. Through Rue Brederode, Rue du Trône, Rue de la Loi, all the way to Schuman Square. We’ve arrived!
Here comes Sabine!! In all her dignity, towering above the crowd of protesters. Palestinian flags, scarves, banners, and signs fill the space with color. Chants echo. Speeches and testimonies follow one another. She draws attention.
“Who is that? What’s she doing here?” Same questions, same answer: “She’s one of Brussels’ hundred giants. She comes from the Beguinage Church, House of Compassion, and represents, like every giant, a specific group of people. She herself was once a ‘foreigner’—maybe still is?—and she represents foreigners, migrants, and refugees, with or without papers. She stands for their dignity, the dignity of every human being. And that includes Gazans and Palestinians. That’s why she’s here to protest. Even if she’s a bit taller than the rest of us.”
“OK, that’s cool!” “Courage!” And now people know.
Later that afternoon, she made it home without a scratch. A different police van kindly escorted her part of the way, showing her the safe route outside the neutral zone. On the way, she had to bow her head twice—not to the authorities, but to a low-hanging branch and an electrical cable. Upon arrival, her head was put back in place. That’s usually how it goes when you get home. Only her hairstyle suffered a bit. Maybe she can call on her namesake and lookalike, a hairdresser, for help. Women know how to handle that.
Now she’s beaming again in her usual spot at the House of Compassion. And waiting—just a little impatiently—for her next outing.
✍️ Jan Reynebeau
Photo credit: Stéphane Lagasse
