Every time a woman who enjoys a certain celebrity affirms that she has been empowered, I put my hand in my wallet, because what for a person who is mistreated, excluded or in a subordinate position means becoming aware of their value, in the case of someone privileged it becomes it can become the excuse to arrogate the right not only to make a tunic out of his cape but also to demand applause and financial reward for his alleged bravery.
It is curious how words conceived to define the noble aspiration to recognize the sovereignty of the invisibles of the earth have ended up in the hands of those who have everything.
Feminism is, consequently, a good alibi, a good shield.
The most perverse and stupid things can be justified, celebrated and, above all, have the ability to divert our eyes from what is very urgent.
We could celebrate, excited,
the first strike of Zara's "girls", as the shop assistants are called, a protest reported by Begoña Gómez Urzaiz in an excellent report, but why waste time on something as tedious as a labor conflict when we can go too far the day discerning whether the fact that a mass singer cashes in with her divorce empowers or not all the women whose boyfriend left her for another at some time in her life.
Wow, as an unredeemed liberal that I am, I thought that life consisted of sometimes getting your heart broken and other times it was you who broke it.
It was also prevalent in a time that seems distant how much you could hurt your children if you turned the battle of your separation into a circus.
But intimacy is on the rise and today everything is for sale: a prince's frozen penis,
the mistreatment turned into a nocturnal show that is sold as a way to agitate the citizen's conscience, or the turn of the screw by which a king's lover stands as a heroine who expanded the freedoms of women in a modest country.
If all these adventures were considered as part of show business, they would have the grace of pink gossip, but when concepts that define very serious problems are borrowed in a tricky way and are manipulated and lowered and also have analysts who lend themselves to placing On the front line of the debate, what is still a media salsa is heartbreaking.
There is also a discredit of modesty.
Modesty is considered something old, even reactionary, unnecessary.
There are even those who believe that modesty is a cultural construction, an imposition of the parents;
to such an extent they are unaware that children conceive modesty as a part of their development, as a path to their independence, and there is nothing more sacred than the respect for modesty that a child can feel when it begins to be aware of its body.
But public life is very deteriorated: if you have something lurid to tell, why not do it?
And why not elevate a stupidity to a sociological debate?
Those of us who understand that every intimate experience must be processed before it becomes something worth telling are out of step.
Leo in
Winter Hours
, a memorial book by the great nature poet, Mary Oliver, a paragraph that concerns me and touches me deeply when she speaks softly about love for her partner: “M.
and I met in the late fifties.
For me it was like a new adolescence: chills and buzzing.
Certainty.
We have lived together for more than thirty years.
I prefer not to say much about it.
Privacy, already so little valued in this world, remains a logical and reasonable quality of paradise.
Like following the advice of a cheap psychology book, we are willing to believe that trading in any private matter relieves and empowers us.
I do not see that there is ever talk of lost dignity.
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