“We will never stop being afraid of visibility, of the cold light of scrutiny and, perhaps, of being judged, of experiencing pain, of death. But we’ve been through all of those things, except for death, and we’ve done it in silence. At every moment I remind myself that even if I had been born mute, or had kept a lifelong oath of silence to feel safer, I would have suffered anyway and would still die. In December 1977, the black and lesbian feminist Audre Lorde gave a lecture in which she spoke of the transformation of silence “into language and action.”
Lorde, who died in 1992, would have liked to see the last decade: her text, an explanation of how functional silence is for systems of oppression and, at the same time, a vindication of the word as an engine of change, It could well be the description of these years in which the silence of women has been broken like never before. That conference is now collected in the book other sister (Hours and Hours Editorial).
The Errejón case has led to another rebound in the word. The testimonies of several women about the behavior exercised by the former deputy, and his resignation, surrounded by a great social and political commotion, have stirred the hornet’s nest in which many, many, keep the stories of machismo, harassment and aggression that they have accumulated.
The breaking of silence is one of the characteristics that define what some have described as the fourth wave of feminism. On October 5, 2017, the New York Times published a compelling story in which it accused a powerful Hollywood producer, Harvey Weinstein, of sexual harassment and abuse of dozens of actresses.
Speaking, breaking the silence, is a mechanism so that, as Gisèle Pelicot has emphasized these weeks, shame changes sides, and society can no longer avoid the conversation about machismo and sexual violence.
Women from all over the world began to share their own stories under the hashtag #MeToo, but there were others, from #MyFirstHarassment to #Cuéntalo. In Spain, the case of ‘la manada’ also functioned as a catalyst for hundreds of testimonies. Initiatives such as the blogs EverydaySexism, Micromachismos or organizations that began to denounce street harassment in dozens of countries, such as hollaback!, channeled testimonies and stimulated public conversation. The same thing happened with #SeAcabó, started by the players of the women’s soccer team and which lit the fuse again.
the word
The premise is not the complaint, understood as a judicial device, but the word: women have grown tired of remaining silent about experiences and attacks. Talking is the way to break with guilt and also with the idea that what happens to us is exceptional to point out that we are facing something structural that we can only combat collectively. Speaking, breaking the silence, is a mechanism so that, as Gisèle Pelicot has emphasized these weeks, shame changes sides, and society can no longer avoid the conversation about machismo and sexual violence.
The journalist Cristina Fallarás publishes this week Don’t publish my name (Editorial Siglo XXI), a compilation of some of the thousands of testimonies that have reached their Instagram account in the last year and a half. From that account came the story that pointed to a politician who turned out to be Íñigo Errejón and who, when questioned, resigned from all his political positions. Fallarás assured this Wednesday in the presentation that the spirit of the testimonies he receives is rarely “punitivist or judicial.” Women come to her channel, she says, as a vehicle to channel stories that can help others identify and break their own silences.
“The networks give us a space to build collective memory,” says the journalist, who points out that the publication of testimonies – “which you do not report” – is not journalism but the construction of that testimonial memory about “what we consider to be sexist violence.” , whether punishable or not.”
At the origin of our silence, each of us paints the face of our own fear: of being belittled, censored, judged, recognized, challenged, annihilated…
Audre Lorde
Since the Errejón case, profiles have appeared on social networks that receive and publish testimonies about the publishing or advertising sector, which join others that already existed and that spoke, for example, about the world of music. There are those who have come together to compile the stories of women from a city or an autonomous community. In the case of the city of Granada, the testimonies that accumulated against the rap singers Ayax and Prok – which were later completed with those of two ex-partners of the artists – have caused the abandonment of their manager and the cancellation of a planned concert. at the WiZink Center.
The debate about the consequences of these publications comes later. The collective breaking of the silence of the last decade has more to do with relief and visibility, with addressing the fear of speaking, than with the search for criminal punishments, although in the end these are the ones that take the most prominence. This coexists with concrete indications, with the need to repair the damage suffered, with the difficulty of knowing what we do with all this, and with debates about how testimonies, complaints, the channels to demand responsibilities when necessary and the guarantees for everyone.
But for all this it is not necessary to discredit the phenomenon of breaking silence and what the massive revelation of the experiences that they wanted to pass off as ‘normal’ entails. “At the origin of our silence, each of us paints the face of our own fear: of being belittled, censored, judged, recognized, challenged, annihilated (…)”, describes Audre Lorde in her text, which includes a phrase frequently cited in recent times: “Your silence will not protect you.”
#Talking #combat #fear #premise #word #complaint
