Dal blog Femminismo a Sud .
Sunday, while the consultation online find daily news accompanied by a horrible picture (you can watch the video showing what it 'way) that speak of the raking of the trans in Rome. I do the reports of the day fascist a verona and I can not refrain from concluding just talking about it.
Spend a day and we know from the minister for equal opportunities carfagna that homophobia does not exist and so you will not grant ever sponsored by the ministry to pride (the national will be held in Bologna on June 28). Finally
Catholic from the front we learn that we are counting and have already established that Catholic lawmakers are sufficient to amend or even cancel the law 194 because they believe would cause a "demographic winter."
This happens after a week of raids and deportations of Roma a week in which it was said, written and done everything and have enough to draw an elephant, just imagine the many and the many militants already tried / s around Italy.
But no. Catered 'yet. I read that story, that happened a day ago and speaks of trans dragged by the hair, before a crowd of inhuman beasts, and smacks into a police car while the crowd thirsty for blood and victims of lynch cheers and screams and has satisfied, energized, almost possessed, as if in a circle hectoliters of pure adrenaline and kilos of cocaine, viene passata su Rai Uno senza la minima disapprovazione e con un commento di comprensione umana per quella povera gente (parla della folla di invasati linciatori) così tanto esasperata.
Come altri hanno fatto osservare prima di me un simile spettacolo non può che legittimare la "voglia di ronda" che c'e' in qualunque ragazzino mediamente stronzo o in qualunque "cittadino" mediamente fascista.
Quello che veramente mi riesce complicato da capire è come sia possibile che non ci sia nessuno ad indignarsi a parte che poche sparute menti pensanti che rappresentano se stesse. Nulla di sbagliato, anzi, che di individui è fatta la folla e se sono individui che ragionano ancora meglio. Ma quello che voglio dire è che non capisco come si sia persa per troppe persone quell'antenna che persino a me che sono nata tanto tempo dopo la seconda guerra mondiale è rimasta in testa.
Chiamatelo fascist-detektor, chiamatelo allergia al nazismo, chiamatelo come vi pare ma il mio radar è da un bel pezzo che mi dice che siamo ufficialmente in pieno regime fascista. E già che vi ho fatto una testa grande così di parole e parole di resistenza e lungimiranza e antifascismo. Così, posso capire che non tutti siano in grado di vedere, non subito almeno. Ma di quali altre prove hanno, avete bisogno per rendervi conto che sta succedendo, di nuovo, ancora, con un governo instaurato come si fa con i regimi? Perchè di regime si tratta, ottenuto senza tanto spargimento the shedding of blood but with so much gray matter to people and property is still under hypnosis while continuing to see the soldier forzitaliota emilio leaguers and fascist beliefs and comrades to lie about this.
How 'that no one can grasp the difference, you do not understand that ...
(here and on links below)
fascist Besides, this is also a country lax and uncaring, culturally immature, we would not have come to this if we-all-Italian citizens and not only part we care about the law, and we did not have memory so short.
not enough to say that we were chloroformed, we are so lazy ...
F.
--------------------------------------------------
Storia di migranti e di prigioni sociali
Quando arrivammo al nord, con le valigie di cartone, per prima cosa ci mancava il sole. Eravamo in crisi d’astinenza da mare. Mentre il babbo si incatenava per ore nei turni di fabbrica, noi provavamo a sentirci più a casa.
Ricordo la prima discussione con la signora del piano di sotto. Si lamentava delle briciole. Si lamentava dell’acqua che veniva giù dai panni stesi. Si lamentava del rumore e dell’eccessivo vociare. Si lamentava della risata allegra di mia madre.
Perché in Sicilia si vive space inside and outside the walls of the house. So you like eating on the balcony or terrace, stretch clothes outdoors because the sun dries them right away. What about our talk loud. We are real people vocal expressiveness, our tone is festive. Sometimes it also happens to fight and just can not do it by whistling as they do here in the north. The laughter of my mother then is a miracle. E 'contagious, and when she laughs and turns his face makes you happy. My mother is a world full of solar heat. The lady downstairs is rather sad, with her dyed hair dye made aware of pollution and bad. His eyes are dull and I think never laughs.
My father came home from work and he loved us all in the house. With us it is customary to talk while you eat. The lady downstairs watching television instead of eating alone. I find her children are only rarely.
Once I asked her if she needed anything. But she looked strange and went in a hurry to get to spy my moves from behind the curtains. I was drying my hair with the morning sun. A strange thing to do in this place without light.
My father worked as a mule and sometimes came home upset because they called him Southerner. He had strong arms and a will of iron. A man capable of downloading heavy metal for hours never let it escape without a whimper. To please the bosses had not even entered the union. The others went on strike and he to work. Others to talk to him and work. Still hoping to be assessed for its value, for what he could prove. I do not know yet who exploit human beings here and certainly do not appreciate them if you make better use.
My mother would wake up early in the morning and began to clean and cook to serve the family. The lady downstairs in the meeting asked what the building was so important to be done to wake up so early. So my mom walked on tiptoe and cooked and cleaned up, quietly, until the tenant mischievous non tirava su le tapparelle. Tentò anche di conquistare la sua simpatia e le portava pietanze e piccoli regali ma quando fu che un accappatoio cadde dal nostro balcone al suo lei non volle restituirlo. Disse che bisognava che imparassimo ad essere più civili e si precipitò a gettare l’indumento nell’immondizia.
Era il più bell’accappatoio di mio padre e allora la mia mamma...
(qui il seguito)
Storia di migranti e di prigioni sociali
Quando arrivammo al nord, con le valigie di cartone, per prima cosa ci mancava il sole. Eravamo in crisi d’astinenza da mare. Mentre il babbo si incatenava per ore nei turni di fabbrica, noi provavamo a sentirci più a casa.
Ricordo la prima discussione con la signora del piano di sotto. Si lamentava delle briciole. Si lamentava dell’acqua che veniva giù dai panni stesi. Si lamentava del rumore e dell’eccessivo vociare. Si lamentava della risata allegra di mia madre.
Perché in Sicilia si vive space inside and outside the walls of the house. So you like eating on the balcony or terrace, stretch clothes outdoors because the sun dries them right away. What about our talk loud. We are real people vocal expressiveness, our tone is festive. Sometimes it also happens to fight and just can not do it by whistling as they do here in the north. The laughter of my mother then is a miracle. E 'contagious, and when she laughs and turns his face makes you happy. My mother is a world full of solar heat. The lady downstairs is rather sad, with her dyed hair dye made aware of pollution and bad. His eyes are dull and I think never laughs.
My father came home from work and he loved us all in the house. With us it is customary to talk while you eat. The lady downstairs watching television instead of eating alone. I find her children are only rarely.
Once I asked her if she needed anything. But she looked strange and went in a hurry to get to spy my moves from behind the curtains. I was drying my hair with the morning sun. A strange thing to do in this place without light.
My father worked as a mule and sometimes came home upset because they called him Southerner. He had strong arms and a will of iron. A man capable of downloading heavy metal for hours never let it escape without a whimper. To please the bosses had not even entered the union. The others went on strike and he to work. Others to talk to him and work. Still hoping to be assessed for its value, for what he could prove. I do not know yet who exploit human beings here and certainly do not appreciate them if you make better use.
My mother would wake up early in the morning and began to clean and cook to serve the family. The lady downstairs in the meeting asked what the building was so important to be done to wake up so early. So my mom walked on tiptoe and cooked and cleaned up, quietly, until the tenant mischievous non tirava su le tapparelle. Tentò anche di conquistare la sua simpatia e le portava pietanze e piccoli regali ma quando fu che un accappatoio cadde dal nostro balcone al suo lei non volle restituirlo. Disse che bisognava che imparassimo ad essere più civili e si precipitò a gettare l’indumento nell’immondizia.
Era il più bell’accappatoio di mio padre e allora la mia mamma...
(qui il seguito)
0 comments:
Post a Comment